I’m thinking about social service activities after retirement. I have several volunteer business models to choose from using a surprising number of skills I’ve acquired over the years. I am constantly sorting through them.
First is Senior Tech Support. I only consult on Apple products so don’t get any crazy ideas. My 55 and older friends are flummoxed by the technological requirements of navigating our modern world. As a long time tech nerd, these skills are in high demand. I have a small number of handpicked customers. The customer requirement is that I already love them. (Note: I cannot be bought with food.) My motto is “We put the Senior in tech support.” A little double entendre that entertains me. While there is ultimately satisfaction in getting tech fixed for people, the process is not as entertaining as I would like. Laughter doesn’t come easily in tech crisis moments and laughter is my chief motivator.
I’m also good dealing with customer service representatives and not yelling. But who in their right mind would do this when they weren’t required to no matter how good they were at it regardless of whether they could get the company agent to do their bidding? Volunteering for these calls would shorten my life span considerably. Life is already short.
As a four decade state worker, I’m skilled in navigating government bureaucracies. I’ve toyed with setting up a card table in the senior center with a sign saying, “BUREAUCRATIC QUESTIONS ANSWERED. Assistance in navigating government agencies. Tuesday and Thursdays 2-4 pm.” I even had a $13 sign made up for my own entertainment. This could work.
Me: “They said what?! That’s bullshit. Lemme talk to them.”
A side benefit is if my customer annoys me I can send them back to the end of the line with no hope of getting to me again before 4.
I’m also good with forms. As a small child, my mother gave me credit card applications to fill out. I tortured my younger brother sitting on the other side of the little table.
Me: “Name? Full name, last name first!”
Me: “Address? Sir, what do you mean you don’t know your address?!”
Since filling out these applications by making my poor brother give me his particulars, I have been a fan of forms. It’s probably a type of illness not yet recognized by the American Psychiatric Association because it’s so rare. Many times, I’ve checked the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders version 5, DSM-5 to its friends. So far, it’s not there.
I was impressed yesterday when I asked my medical provider’s office to complete a medical form for work and they gave me two forms to complete so they could complete my one form! Nirvana. I thought I’d died and joined the Army.
Website forms have the added benefit of combining my love of forms and tech. Saturday morning, my daughter called me to discuss filing for a trademark with the US trademark office. It perked me right up. I was all too happy to log in as her to begin the filing process while she was on the phone giving me answers. I came up with slogans for my new volunteer business. “I’m a bureaucrat. I can handle it!” And, “May the Form Be With You.” We carried on while navigating the trademark office website and application process. I am not one to hide my mistakes or outrage and we giggled together.
Prior to finishing today’s round with her, the site gave me a warning about logging off without saving the application. However, there was no evidence of a “save” button anywhere on the site nor instructions on how to save. After receiving screenshots, Alex agreed there was no “save” button on the website. This resulted in a spontaneous song to the tune of “If I Had a Hammer.”
“If I had a save button, I’d save it in the morning. I’d save it in the evening all over this site. I’d save out warning. I’d save out craziness. I’d save out the love between my brothers and my sisters. If I-I-I on-ly could save.”
At this point, hilarity ensued with Alex informing me she laughed so hard she cried. This is always a marker of parental success. Could this be a sign for my aging future?
Reporting from Life’s front.
Joceile
7.30.22
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