I am a tech wreck, a totaled one. My son Kyle graduated with honors in Cyber-Security and Net Working, A literary equivalent would be my comic book stand versus his Library of Congress. When I have a tech problem, usually computer and/or mobile phone, I try my hardest to solve it before finally asking him for help. He's usually having fun in a video game contest to rule the universe or some such, needing three or four increasing louder but still humble pleas from me before he rushes from his room to mine, asks for the problem, takes one look at it and not only slows down but stops... to look at me with a face trying to determine if I'm risking my life by joking, have been shot once or twice in the head, or have finally lost it to the never to be found again stage.
Though I'm somewhat anxious, his mouth-agape, you can't be serious snort and accompanying venomous look always makes me grin, spread my hands and shrug my shoulders, quickly blurting that I worked on it for an hour before asking him for help. He turns to the computer, pushes two buttons on the keyboard..... and the problem goes away. Thankfully, he does also, accepting my profuse gratitude with mutterings that could be taken as threats illegal to the 8th-9th degree assault level, if I 'bother' him again. If that dire need arrives, I wait until he uses the restroom, rush to put a gallon of his favorite ice cream on his desk, and hide in the garage for a half hour or so. Hey, Delilah had to cajole and seduce Samson to make him harmless, all I needed was a gallon of fudge ripple. Warmest regards, stay safe and well, best from Bob