How to Talk Yourself Down From the Tech Ledge

7 Strategies for Geezers and Others Frustrated by Technology

Why don’t they write tech manuals for non-digital natives?

I asked myself this question last winter in Paris, as I struggled to make my new wireless printer talk to my laptop. It’s a question that also comes up when I buy a new washing machine, computer, or television. And it loomed large recently, as I dove into an older friend’s tech nightmare with her cell phone.

First, the printer:

I spend a good two hours — croissant breaks keep me going. Each time I try to access the HP Smart Print app, something goes wrong.

A particular irony of our time is that so-called smart devices make us feel stupid.

I stay with the printer, determined. I pore through the instructions, reading out loud as if that will result in better comprehension. How hard can it be to set up the wireless feature? You’re not too old to learn.

Another irony is that the only way to access detailed directions on how to use a new printer is to…[wait for it]….print them.

Back and forth and back again —I rack up steps on my Fitbit, going from the printer to laptop to router which is under the desk in the foyer. Check this setting; change that one. Where is the reset button? I dread the idea of calling customer service. In French.

Six months later, friends in need:

During my idyllic time on Fire Island, a beach community without cars, an Apple-savvy buddy and I (the Verizon whisperer) help our mutual friends. One is 90, the other 85, both former professors. One of their cell phones isn’t working, and their computer has been acting up since they switched to Fios.

We spend hours at their house and on the phone over a course of days that turn into weeks. Their desk is strewn with slips of paper and yellow stickies bearing phone numbers, log-in IDs, passwords, and incomprehensible snippets of conversations from previous calls to customer support.

We hang in — and hang on — because we’re good friends and, mostly, because we understood their pain.

We all do, don’t we?

Confessions of an “Older” User

I’m younger than the friends I helped on Fire Island, but at 77, I certainly fall into the category of “older” users.

I feel confident about my tech chops when I compare myself to most of my peers. Some don’t know how to cut-and-paste text into an email. My partner, ten years younger, depends on me to follow prompts, enter my password on our TV, and by some miracle, access Netflix and Amazon Prime.

Measuring against someone less capable or fortunate — a phenomenon psychologists call “downward social comparison” — might make me feel better for a few minutes, but I know the truth: I may be better, but that doesn’t mean I’m tech-competent.

Indeed, I come up short when I compare “up” to seventy-something Hilde Weisert, Mt. Holyoke College class of ’66, whom I once interviewed about women and tech:

When the first personal computers–Apple–began showing up in the early eighties, Weisert says, “I remember thinking, I’ve got to learn to do this. So I piled up issues of computer magazines, and I avoided looking at them. It made me mad. But I finally jumped in, kicking and screaming.”

Unlike Hilde, I never jumped in. I wormed my way through the mire, avoiding more than embracing.

Decades ago, my then eight-year-old son tried to teach me how to “program” the VCR. Forty years later, I rely on grandsons. I’ve accepted that I’ll always be a step or ten behind. Today, it’s my printer; tomorrow, a new app or an unfamiliar operating system will do me in.

Tech and the “Older” Generations

The Pew Research Center, which tracks how we use cell phones and other gadgets, published an analysis in 2019, comparing four generations:

More than nine-in-ten Millennials (93% of those who turn ages 25 to 38) own smartphones, compared with 90% of Gen Xers (those ages 39 to 54), 68% of Baby Boomers (ages 55 to 73) and 40% of the Silent Generation (74 to 91), according to a new analysis of a Pew Research Center survey of U.S. adults conducted in early 2019.

We of the so-called older generations, can text, send emails, and use social media. But that’s the upper limit, according to Pew — and to my own research.

“My old ladies,” as I call the GI Generation women I know, are now in their nineties and beyond. Most of them stopped “adapting” to new technology at cable TV. And if you ask them, they’re doing just fine, thank you.

Marge, who will be 104 in March, has a cell phone but “only for emergencies.” Zelda, who almost made it to 105, had one, too, and for the same reason.

Every oldest generation has its tech demons. Marge’s grandmother was scared to be in a room alone when the radio was on. And while Marge isn’t frightened of her iPad — which still sits in its original packaging — she doesn’t need it or trust it.

“The thieves are smarter than we are,” she says.

Marge is amused by scammers who call her landline. I ask her whether they’re human or robots. “I don’t know. Either way, I hang up.

“They tell me there’s a problem with my Amazon account. That someone charged $8000 on it, and they want to help me. I don’t even have an Amazon account. Wouldn’t know how to get one if I tried. And I don’t want one!”

Sometimes, I wish I could be more like Marge, satisfied with a landline and phone calls. She’s not interested in being “on the grid.” Those who are important to her know where she is and how to reach her.

Sadly, the tech powers-that-be have conditioned me, a relative youngster, to want more. Tech tethers me to loved ones and work colleagues and random consequential strangers throughout the globe. My work life and, increasingly, my social life, play out on screens.

How odd: My devices keep me “in touch” with humans I can’t actually touch.

Still, it is connection. This past year, locked-down Paris would have been unbearable without Zoom. Sure, I would have preferred actually showing friends the City of Lights and stopping for café and conversation. Instead, I aimed my laptop out the window for a view of my street and talked to their digitized images on a screen. But at least, I got to “see” them.

How to Minimize the Overwhelm?

The ongoing challenge for me and many of us younger geezers — a term I use lovingly, not as a slur — is not whether to be on the grid but how to cope with the onslaught, the constant changes, the unfamiliar vocabulary, the acronyms, the features, the unfathomable “latest” phenomena. I’m still trying to understand 3D printing. Is “Beam me up, Scottie” far behind?

I don’t have that answer. I’m not sure I have any answers. But I can leave you with the advice I give myself (but can’t always follow):

1. Find allies, so you don’t feel stupid.

I could have kissed New York Times tech columnist, Shira Ovide for this paragraph in “Tech Forgets About the Needs of the 99%.”

Most people don’t have the time and brain space to care about anything other than the basics of using their phone, computer, television set or other bare necessities and apps. And that’s perfectly OK and normal. What’s not OK is that the biggest and richest companies on the planet often don’t cater to those needs.

Ms. Ovide is in her forties, and she feels it! How reassuring to realize that it’s not just me (or my age) — it’s what the tech giants are doing to me.

2. Figure out what you really need — and learn just that.

My iPhone now announces, “Connected to power” when I plug it in. My12-year-old grandson did that for me. It’s fun. But do I need it? No. It’s just another of the zillion “features” I could live without and would never miss. Admittedly, I’m sometimes not sure — for example, Instagram. I’d like to understand it better. Many friends use it. Perhaps it’s a good marketing tool, a way for readers to find me. Then again, why? Is Instagram, as an economist might ask, “value added”? Does it make my life richer, fuller, more valuable? Maybe. Or maybe not, and that’s why I haven’t gotten “better” at it.

3. Don’t try to learn too much at once.

Pick one type of social media and learn that platform before exploring another one. When you buy a new phone, wait at least a month or two before purchasing another device that involves a learning curve. Set aside time, pay attention, and don’t beat yourself up if you have to re-read the directions. If you’re being tutored, take notes. Write down step-by-step directions. Make sure you can call your tutor with follow-up questions.

For the record, “device” includes appliances and anything else operated by an internal computer — like a washing machine. My friend Jane beat the system by buying a Speed Queen with knobs.

4. Organize your tech information.

After watching my older friends on Fire Island hunt for their various IDs and passwords, I made a mental note: Keep your information in a safe place that’s easy for you to access — and remember. Use a notebook, a “password keeper” apps, or devise your own system — preferably, not the back of an envelope that you’ll misplace. I keep my passwords in my phone, which probably isn’t the best idea, but it works for someone who has multiple addresses.

5. Don’t multitask.

Don’t do tech stuff on the fly, when you’re stressed out, or when doing something else. I, the Queen of Multitasking, have made some whoppers by assuming that a tech task doesn’t need my full attention. Like the time I accidentally added two zeroes to my online garage payment and paid them over $5000! The mistake was easily rectified but very embarrassing. I wouldn’t have had to deal with any of it if I had paid closer attention.

5. Ask a Gen Z or a Gen Alpha for help.

Born between 1997 and 2012, your Gen Zers are between 9 and 25 years old — the original digital natives. The Alphas (projected births between 2011 and 2025) are still young but on track to becoming the “most technologically literate generation in history.” So don’t trouble your already over-crowded aging brain if you’re stumped. Turn to a grandchild or a neighbor’s kid, or go to a local school and give a sixth-grader his or her first job: helping you understand technology.

6. Don’t be cowed by customer service.

No question is too dumb. Ask it. Yes, they’ll put you on hold. So fold laundry or catch up on bills while you’re waiting. See it as a test of your mettle and a learning experience. My several-month battle with Verizon, for example, taught me that to get to a human faster, never follow the prompt that asks you to click a link sent to your cell phone. Six months later, when my friends on Fire Island needed me to step in, I was armed and knowledgeable.

7. Balance your life with non-tech.

Be in nature. Be with people. Be a little less in front of a screen. If you need inspiration, read Tiffany Shlain’s , 24/6: The Power of Unplugging One Day a Week. A fifty-something and mother of two who took a page from the ancient Jewish principle of Shabbat, Shlain found that even a 24-hour respite made a difference.

However you do it, just be. … And when tech problems interfere with the flow, be like Scarlett O’ Hara. The printer can wait. Think about it tomorrow.