It was one of those mornings – weeks. The computer obeyed my command to take a picture of the Sunday crossword puzzle.
But, when I asked it to move a section of the copy up an inch on the page, the computer honked its disapproval.
I tried again.
The computer honked politely five more times.
I turned it off and took a break.
That computer, scanner and I have done this same task innumerable times in the past. This time, the computer did not understand what I wanted.
When I returned and tried again, the machine decided to think the same way I was thinking. It took a computerized picture of the puzzle, cut out the blocked area, pasted it up and copied it exactly as I requested and even agreed to file it away in its memory for future use.
Everything went smoothly with the other crosswords until deleted the Thursday’s version by writing Friday’s on top of it.
I sighed and redid Thursday’s.
Although I relaxed while the scanner slid its photographic eye over a page of William Raspberry’s syndicated column, I shouldn’t have.
When I asked the computer to show me what it had red, it displayed x’s and o’s and mathematical symbols all mixed up with letters.
Irritated with yet more garbage. I checked the menu for the settings exposure.
The computer had not read my mind to switch from manual to automatic exposure. I re-arranged its parameters and re-scanned the page.
The computer’s interpretation of the symbols matched the original.
Finally.
I saved it with the usual editorial code names and moved it to another computer to check the spelling. Calling up the editorial directory, I keyed a request to recall the column on screen.
The monitor read, “File not found.”
I punched the code again.
The computer insisted, “File not found.”
I requested a listing of all the recently entered files in the directory.
No editorial column was in the directory.
Exasperated. Frustrated. Grabbing the mouse. I pulled down the file menu on the original computer.
I had forgotten to switch the file to the editorial. The nationally syndicated opinion column was saved as local news.
After the umpteenth column, why can’t a computer remember to store Raspberry’s comments under the editorial directory?
Escaping from the tyranny of the computer, I dashed up to the copy machine on the second floor. Shifted the menu to use a large sheet of paper and pushed the print button.
The machine spat out a small sheet with a third of the copy missing. I had misread the numbers.
Counting to 10, I verified the request for the next larger size. The machine printed out the second copy, exactly as I initially intended.
As I picked up the copy the News-Times modern technology and computer expert walked by.
“Bob,” I said, “When they make machines that read my mind, then we will really have accomplished something.”
He laughed, but I am still waiting.