A true story of one great-granddaughter, one Samsung tablet, and an 82-year-old man who should have known better.
82 Years — 82 Lessons
Sometimes You Have to Threaten Technology With Replacement
By Michael Cunningham Sr. | Mike's Observations
I've lived 82 years on this earth.
I've served in the United States Marine Corps, worked offshore drilling rigs, spent 36 years in the oilfield, started businesses, built houses, repaired tractors, and survived more mechanical disasters than I care to remember.
I have repaired things with a screwdriver, a hammer, a pair of pliers, and occasionally a vocabulary that would have made my Marine Corps drill instructor proud.
But yesterday, I met my match.
A Samsung tablet.
And I was defeated by something that weighs less than a pound.
It All Started With a Little Girl
My great-granddaughter dropped my wife's Samsung tablet.
Now, I love my great-granddaughter dearly. But apparently, she has discovered a new method of testing electronic equipment.
It's called gravity.
The tablet survived the fall, at least on the outside. No shattered screen. No pieces scattered across the floor.
But the screen went completely black.
The thing still made noises. It beeped. It occasionally acted like it was alive.
It just wouldn't show a picture.
I figured this couldn't be too difficult.
That was my first mistake.
Enter the 82-Year-Old Electronics Technician
Now, being a man who has spent most of his life fixing things, I wasn't about to let a little electronic gizmo get the best of me.
Besides, I had my trusted assistant, Cosmo, an artificial intelligence program that supposedly knows just about everything.
Between the two of us, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, as it turns out, quite a bit.
Cosmo started giving me instructions.
"Check this."
"Press that."
"Disconnect this cable."
"Reconnect that cable."
At one point, I was staring at the inside of that tablet like a hog looking at a wristwatch.
There were tiny connectors, microscopic cables, little metal brackets, and things I couldn't identify with a magnifying glass.
I sent Cosmo pictures.
He sent me instructions.
I sent more pictures.
He sent more instructions.
At one point, I was pointing at a connector with a little blue plastic tool, and Cosmo was trying to explain which cable I was looking at.
I was beginning to suspect that neither one of us knew what we were doing.
But we were both too stubborn to admit it.
Open-Heart Surgery on a Samsung
Eventually, I had that tablet opened up like a patient on an operating table.
Now, I've worked on diesel engines, hydraulic systems, tractors, and offshore drilling equipment.
But whoever designed the inside of a Samsung tablet must have had the hands of a six-year-old and the eyesight of an eagle.
Everything was tiny.
I disconnected the screen cable.
I reconnected the screen cable.
I pressed on the connectors.
I checked everything I could see.
Then I put it back together and tried to turn it on.
Nothing.
Black screen.
Not so much as a flicker.
By this time, I was convinced the tablet had gone to that great electronics recycling center in the sky.
The Moment of Surrender
After all that work, I finally admitted defeat.
I went to Amazon and ordered my wife a brand-new tablet.
There!
Problem solved.
My wife would have her tablet, my great-granddaughter would live to drop another electronic device someday, and I could get back to doing something productive.
I closed up the old tablet.
Put all the little pieces back where they belonged.
Snapped the case together.
And figured I'd give it one last try before setting it aside.
I pressed the power button.
THE DANG THING WORKED!
Not a flicker.
Not a half-lit screen.
Not a distorted picture.
It came right on as if nothing had ever been wrong.
You've Got to Be Kidding Me!
I sat there staring at that screen.
Twenty minutes earlier, that tablet had been pronounced dead.
I had spent hours fooling with it.
I had practically performed surgery on the thing.
Cosmo and I had exhausted our combined intelligence.
And now, after I had ordered its replacement, it suddenly decided to cooperate!
I can only come to one logical conclusion.
That Samsung tablet heard me ordering a new one from Amazon and realized its job was on the line.
Apparently, electronic devices respond to threats of unemployment just like some people do.
What Did I Learn?
At 82 years old, I have learned that life has a peculiar sense of humor.
Sometimes you can work for hours trying to solve a problem, only to discover that the solution arrives the minute you stop trying.
Sometimes you have to walk away.
Sometimes you have to give something one last chance.
And sometimes you just have to spend money on a replacement to convince the old one to behave.
But there's another lesson here.
Never underestimate the ability of a great-grandchild to create an entire day's work in less than two seconds.
And never underestimate the stubbornness of an old Marine who refuses to let a machine win.
Although, in this particular battle, I'm not entirely certain who won.
My wife has a working tablet.
Amazon has an order for a new one.
My great-granddaughter has probably forgotten the whole incident.
Cosmo is still gainfully employed.
And I have a headache.
Lesson Number 82? Not Quite!
After 82 years, I thought I had seen just about everything.
But yesterday taught me something new.
If you can't fix it, order a replacement. The old one may suddenly decide to work just to spite you.
And one more thing.
The next time my great-granddaughter wants to play with an electronic device, I'm handing her a rubber ball.
At least I know how to fix a flat tire.
Semper Fi!
Michael Cunningham Sr.
Eight Decades of Faith · Service · Adventure · A Life Well Lived
mikesobservations.com
Your Turn!
Have you ever spent hours trying to fix something, finally given up, and then watched it mysteriously start working?
Or have you ever ordered a replacement only to discover that the old one wasn't broken after all?
Tell me your story in the comments. I'd love to know whether I'm the only one being outsmarted by modern technology!
