On helping

Or wanting to, but failing to do so.

The day starts with a phone call for me. From Sonja. Which means her 20 something idiot son has screwed up the computer again and she wants me to fix it. Ok, I'll be 10 minutes...

Sure enough, mega screwed up. One of those fake "your computer is infected" things that stops you running anything else 'cos it's "infected". Normal action being to system restore back to before it happened, except system restore not working even in safe mode. Fun!

Made more fun by trying to be diplomatic. "Why does this keep happening?" asks Mumsie. The answer of course being "because you have a stupid 20 something son who keeps looking at porn sites and is stupid enough to click anything that says click here". He's not even smart enough to use private browsing... But of course you can't say that... you can be none committal, and watch boyo squirm, and blame the same people that hacked the sony playstation network.

So that was a fail, as I'm going to have to go back with usb stick full of goodies to fix it.

Coming home, I call in at the supermarket. Hmmm, busy roads here. Ah, that would be because there is a small nissan micra blocking the critical petrol station junction bit. A micra with the added feature of the driver's side being caved in. Presumably owned by the crying woman nearby. Restyled by another woman in a mondeo.

I want to help. I want to tell her it will be all right. That she's not hurt and that cars can be mended. And put in a big whiplash claim for a free holiday.
I don't of course, for I have the people skills of a slug, and I'm sure the last thing she needs is some gormless gimp on top of her motor getting bent. I mentally project good wishes and go on my way, but feel bad about it.

More not helping on the morrow.