I’ve been told this from a young age, as some sort of plea for help disguised as a compliment. My obligation to help others led to me spending hours frowning and fiddling with TVs, speakers, phones, heating systems, bread ovens and every other stupid thing digital technology sneaks its way into. The problem is usually solved, instructions given – and unbeknownst to me – an unofficial support contract drawn up, whereby I’m now the person they call when it breaks. And it will break again because technology is fragile, and that failure will always be perfectly timed so they phone me or knock on my door when I’m tired, irritable or in the middle of frying an egg.
As a kid, there was an element of pride I’d take in helping people. Like that time when I was 12 and got my aunt and uncle online by hoovering out their computer, installing a 56k modem, choosing an ISP and telling them which icon to double click (not single click). It gave me something to do, involved solving problems and was an opportunity for encouragement and the occasional £10 note. Hundreds of oven clocks and car entertainment systems later I’m thinking of that famous Douglas Adams quote:
Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it.
Although in my case it’s probably:
Anything that’s invented between when you’re eight and thirty-five, is likely to be poorly designed and you’ll probably find a career in fixing it or redesigning it.
Perhaps I don’t have any real skills with digital technology. Perhaps I just have deep experience traversing the illogical mental models we applied to technology and its interfaces during the Digital Revolution of the last few decades. I know that the WiFi password for the Smart TV probably won’t be found in the network settings menu but probably in the setup menu. And the touch screen display on the new washing machine probably won’t work with grandma’s cold fingers, so during the winter months she’s best operating the damn thing using a wet cotton bud instead.
Maybe all that’s needed to inspire a generation of designers and engineers is a youth spent making sense of – and swearing at – badly built stuff. That and the occasional word of encouragement or £10 note.