Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [23]
{I resolve to speak ill of no man whatever, not even in a matter of truth; but rather by some means excuse the faults I hear charged upon others, and upon proper occasions speak all the good I know of every body.}
I wanted to tell her to lighten up, to try to see things from her child’s point of view. She was coming to me for advice after all (or at least to vent), and it was clear to me that I was just the man to give said advice.
Then a little voice in my head screamed, “SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!!!!”
Whose voice was it? Franklin, old law professors, my younger self, Peter Lorre? Who knows, but it was firm, resolute, and wise . . . and it demanded Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself. No one was going to benefit from what I was going to say. She didn’t really want advice, and more important, I had no legitimate basis for giving it out. I didn’t know enough about the situation to make an informed prescription. Two weeks before, these concerns would not have slowed me for a moment. On that day, however, I was living Franklin’s virtues. On Day 4 of Silence, a little voice in my head demanded Silence, and I listened. Maybe I wasn’t hopeless after all.
Karma and Talking to Computers
I feel sorry for anyone who works at an IT help desk. They are faced with an almost unsolvable problem. On the one hand, average employees want the latest and best technologies. Every advertisement in the newspaper, every television commercial for a computer company, every conversation with the employee’s nerdy friends, is a potential headache for an IT department. Butting against this ceaseless demand for new technology is the complete incompetence of the average human over the age of thirty-five to do anything of any value with a computer. “Have you tried turning it off and on?” is now the standard first response to any request for assistance.
And then, of course, there are the viruses, security violations, and unending spam. I hope that they are not specifically targeting me for any particular reason, but not a day goes by that I don’t get some sort of penis-lengthening offer. How did this clearly . . . growing . . . industry operate before email?
In response, therefore, to the Gordian knot faced by IT departments across the world, a formidable defense has been developed: inertia.
Requests for the purchase of nonstandard information technology products are generally met with an approval process with the nimbleness of an arthritic octogenarian. No matter the employee’s need, no technology is purchased until it is thoroughly studied, examined, and challenged. Generally, by the time any approval is received, the requested software is outdated by two releases. It is an approval quicksand pit.
You might ask what this has to do with Silence. Let me just say that sometimes the virtue gods enjoy a little irony.
Not long before the week of Silence, I had purchased a voice-recognition program for my home computer. I was so impressed with it that I requested that my employer purchase a version for my office. The financial aspect was no problem, but when IT got the request, I hit the wall. Or more to the point, I hit the quicksand pit. On any other day, that might have concluded matters: request, acknowledgment of request, interminable delay, and retirement. This, however, was during the course of my quest for moral perfection. First, I was faced with a natural desire to vent my frustrations. I remembered my virtue, however, and kept silent. (Again, until now.)
More important, however, my Franklinian quest—misguided, unrealistic, and potentially unachievable—must have caught the attention of whatever forces control those aspects of the universe outside the understanding of man (no, it’s not bureaucracy).