Unlocking the secret files #bewareoftheleopard
I am turning into a dinosaur.
It’s not my fault. Everyone older than me suddenly retired and left me with twenty years to go being the old crone in the corner complaining about every change, innovation, alteration, move or technological development. Not that that’s who they were, but it is who I have become.
It’s not me that’s an irrational moaner, though. The changes are bad and the technological developments are rubbish. The innovations are a waste of time and the alterations are a health and safety hazard.
But I feel that I am the bitter maverick. Maybe I am.
Let’s take the blinking computers. Back in the day of things on paper, if you wanted to read a thing, you would go and get it and read it.
Now, if I want to read a thing I know I have saved in my computer, I have to search for it in my computer. Literally and with no exaggeration: it takes longer to find a document I wrote myself in my own computer than it does to Google the same topic on the self same computer and find thousands of documents other people have written with the same title and similar content.
I am quicker thinking the document up again and typing it from scratch than finding it in my files.
I hate my computer (at work. This one is just fine.)
Then there are the documents that other people have written that I am meant to access. They are called daft things in code and they are filed in folders that are buried in other folders.
It reminds me of the bit from “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”:
“But Mr Dent, the plans have been available in the local planning office for the last nine months.”
“Oh yes, well as soon as I heard I went straight round to see them, yesterday afternoon. You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them, had you? I mean, like actually telling anybody or anything.”
“But the plans were on display …”
“On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.”
“That’s the display department.”
“With a flashlight.”
“Ah, well the lights had probably gone.”
“So had the stairs.”
“But look, you found the notice didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Arthur, “yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard’.”
So, okay, for me, it’s metaphorical. But the files I want to access might as well be in a dark basement with no stairs, in a disused toilet saying “Beware of the Leopard” on it.
Never mind. I’ll play my “I’m inept” card and ask a young person for a hard copy of their documents.
Or rewrite my own.
Or go into business selling santa hats.