Adventures in Tech Support

In 2014, I got my parents their first devices; they were now equipped with two shiny new iPad Airs, ready to experience all the wonders that technology had to offer!

It’s a great big world out there, so we started small. First, I showed them how to navigate to the shared photo album so that they could view photos and videos of Lily (my niece, their granddaughter) at any time. Three years later, Dad discovered on his own that he could post comments. 😆

It’s been slow going, but over the past 6 years we’ve covered:

YouTube. “This isn’t your video? But you know this person?”

FaceTime. Yay, video chats with a (then) toddler who has no interest in video chats!

Google Maps. “Wow, that’s your grandmother’s building in China!”

Google Translate and iTranslate. No more confusing and inelegant linguistic gymnastics to try to explain a word or concept in another language. (Huge shoutout to iTranslate for supporting Cantonese for years!)

eBay. This was my least favorite. Dad was lovingly and generously trying to get nice designer gifts for family and friends back home in China, but at slightly discounted prices. Little did he know, people lie online! I cannot count the number of counterfeit items I received and had to return during his eBay phase.

YouTube comments. “Did you know you can view and leave comments on Youtube? People can be wild!” Oh dear. …Hey Siri, how do you say “Trolls” in Chinese?

Charles Schwab. Dad has always enjoyed learning about companies and investing a little where possible. Until a few months ago, he would call Schwab’s automated phone line to make the occasional trade. This was inefficient and costing him money, so I got him set up on the app. Initially, I was hesitant given his inexperience with technology (e.g., “I meant to buy 10 shares, not 100!”), but so far so good.

FaceTime again. This time, Mom wanted to know how to initiate calls. After walking her through it several times one afternoon, I suggested writing down the steps so she could refer back to it later. “Nah, I’ve got it!” The next day, I received a text message from her. Plot twist: she doesn’t know how to text! The text simply contained my phone number — it was clear that this was a failed attempt to FaceTime, and she had not gotten it.

So many concepts like logging in, usernames, passwords, copying, pasting, and text fields. The first time Dad got signed out of an app, I tried to explain how he could sign back in over the phone, thinking it’d be pretty straightforward… nope. Take a moment to consider how you’d explain this to someone who has never signed in to anything, ever. Concepts aside, for us, it involved going over:

  • What/where/how to press.
  • Tapping vs. pressing the screen.
  • Characters (like *, ^, @, ) that I don’t know how to say in Chinese.
  • Text fields. Take the screen below as an example; Dad had no idea that he could (and was supposed to) enter information into those white areas on the screen.

Icons. When trying to guide Dad to a specific place on an app, I asked him to click on the thing on the bottom of the screen that looks like a bell, or the one that looks like a person. “I don’t have those. I have a hat, and ummm…” We’re all accustomed to icons that look like these and what they represent, but Dad with his new-to-technology eyes, was stumped:

Wifi. For years, their internet would go down randomly and for extended periods of time. “The internet and phone weren’t working all last week; it must be because of the weather or because there were too many other people online.

The worst part: I had no idea until way after the fact — after they’d been without internet and phone for days or even weeks — because they didn’t want to “bother” me. I installed a mesh network a few months ago, and I’m so grateful that I can use an app to confirm that their wifi is working and speedy. (Thank you so much Eero!).

Needless to say, it’s been a slow, bumpy journey, but now some basic tech is part of their day to day lives, and I’m so grateful. They’re a little more connected and autonomous, and have a slightly better understanding of the very significant and impactful advancements we’ve seen so far in their lifetime.

…What should I show them next?

Mindfulness

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The Calm app sent me this reminder this morning. With all that’s going on in the world right now, I appreciated it.

It also reminded me of a principle that my dad reiterated to me throughout my childhood and young adulthood. It won’t translate as well as I’d like it, but the basic concept was that, especially as a girl/woman (🙄) I should be calm, steady, grounded, and ocean deep. Take a small bowl of water, for example. Any minor disruption (a shake, an object falling in, etc.) can be catastrophic and immediately empty the bowl. On the other hand, it takes much more to cause any noticeable disruption to a large, deep ocean; it can withstand great storms and still return to a state of calm.

Despite its sexist undertones, the lesson was a good one in mindfulness, and one that I’m still trying to practice.

Dad’s First Comment

While working in Thailand, I received the following message from my brother:

I checked our shared iCloud photo album (primarily used to share photos and videos of my niece, but lately I’ve been sharing photos of my travels so that my family knows that I’m alive and well) and saw several likes and comments from a Jenny Zhu.

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I got my parents iPads a couple of years ago — they’re registered in my name, which is why the comments appear from “Jenny Zhu.” But this is the first time they’ve posted anything, anywhere. I’m overcome with glee because, well, how cute is this?! They’re learning! Can’t wait to continue to help them (slowly) discover the wonders and conveniences of technology.

My Brother

As we indulged in leftover Halloween candy today after lunch, my coworkers and I reminisced about our childhood experiences surrounding the holiday, touching on our various strategies to maximize candy collection, and equally important, candy retention. Yeah, parents would take it away, but most everyone at the table mentioned that their siblings were the biggest culprits when it went missing.

That wasn’t the case for me though, because my brother was the best. I don’t remember any candy theft; on the contrary, he showered me with treats and looked out for me.

When he fundraised for school by selling candy, he’d save and buy me my favorites.

When he frequented Comic Grapevine, the local comic book and gaming store, he’d bring me along so that I could buy candy, play or watch them play the games, peruse the comic books, and play with the store cats. I can’t imagine how annoying or embarrassing it’d be to have your kid sister tag along for stuff like that, but he brought me anyway. It’s where I discovered my love for Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat — I was never any good, but I was happy to watch. It’s where I spent my hard-earned money on new pogs — the sparkly slammers were my faves, of course. It’s where I learned how to play Magic: The Gathering, amassing my own collection of cards and subsequently blowing the minds of all the boys in my class — I had to bring my decks to school and play before they believed me.

And when I started dating, going to dances and parties, and generally doing all the things my parents forbade me from doing, he’d cover for me, pick me up late at night, and always make sure I was safe.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have a sibling like mine.

 

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(Apologies for the terrible photo quality!)

Still Waters

Gray clouds loom in the distance that evening as we drive over the bay bridge. Sail boats and freighters are common sights in the bay, but there aren’t any to be seen; Sundays of three-day weekends are always quiet.

Dad looks out over the eerily still water, momentarily transfixed. He breaks the silence with a peculiarly dark question, jarring in contrast to the lighthearted day we had just spent together as a family. “What would you do if you were out there for a long open-water swim, with your brother or best friend, and they said that they couldn’t make it any further?”

After a brief pause, he elaborates. “Think about it. There’s nothing and no one around for miles. Do you try to save him, drowning together in the process? Or do you continue on without him?”

It was a dark hypothetical. I appreciate outlandish questions, and as a chronic worrier, my mind naturally tends toward the dark (hope for the best, prepare for the worst — as they say), but this was tragic. I didn’t want to think about it, but I did.“I’d never be on a swim like that. If I were… I don’t know.”

I consider it as realistically as I could. “He really can’t go on? What if we just turn on our backs and float awhile, to rest?”

“No, at this point, he’s done. You think he wants to die? Of course not, but he’s sinking.”

I sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do, but I know that either way, I’d be dead. I’d drown trying to save him, and if I had to leave him behind or watch him drown, I’d drown in my panic and grief.”

Dad continues to build the scene, as if my response didn’t register.“Even if I gave you a measly 10 lb weight, that’d affect your ability to swim a long distance. An entire person. There’s no way you could make it.”

“Yeah…I don’t know.”

Moments of sad, contemplative silence pass.

“This happened to me, many years ago. Think about being on a plane that’s going down, think about everything — all the thoughts, memories, and concerns that would suddenly flood your mind. All those things? That’s what I thought about in that excruciating moment.”

I sit in stunned silence, looking out over the water.

With a quiet anguish, he ends the conversation. “I don’t burden you with stories like this, but one day, maybe five or ten years from now, I’ll share.”

Against the Odds

My parents aren’t very romantic, but I can tell my dad is getting more sentimental as the years pass. He recently reminisced about the beginning of his relationship with my mom.

Your mom was a country gal, and I was from the big city. She’s 6 years older, highly unconventional for our generation and culture. Your mom’s entire family was against our marriage and impending move to the U.S., predicting that our relationship would die within the year, leaving her stranded with nothing and alone in the states. We’ve been married nearly 40 years.

Conversations with Lily

I’ve only spent an hour with her today, but my heart is already bursting at the seams. When I’m with her, nothing else matters. I’ll never forget her reaction when I surprised her this morning — it’s forever seared into my memory.

A few snippets:

“Jen Jen, would you like to play with me?” Always irresistible, always in a slight British accent.

“Hey Mochi, what’s the matter?” Said in a sweet, comforting tone to one of her dogs, who was looking mopey.

“Mochi, it’s not for doggies, for pete’s sake.” I laugh, and she smirks because she knows exactly what was so funny. “Yeah, I say ‘for pete’s sake.’”

“Turn on the music, so we can dance, ok?” A gal after my own heart. But I prefer my dance parties after 8am.

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Don’t worry, she gave me a mask too.

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