Last night I was commiserating with a fellow information worker. She had been dissed by a computer salesperson.
“It happens to me, too,” I said. “The last time I bought a computer, the guy offered to come to my house and plug it in for me.”
My friend remembered that occasion. “You forgave him later, when he mentioned that he lived in a dorm room.”
“It’s because we don’t look like tech guys,” I suggested.
I look like someone’s mom. She looks like a young Catherine Zeta-Jones.
We thought of some of the tech guys we work with who do look like tech guys.
“You have to be 23 years old and wear polo shirts,” I suggested.
“No way! You have to look tired and schlumpy because you’ve been up most of the night working on a web site.”
Actually, I can do that.