Daughter Two was giving me the look.
The one that tells me I’m not performing at the level she expects.
As usual, it was followed by the giggle. When she stopped laughing, she set me straight. Again.
“Dad, why are your thumbs so fat? You’re making mistakes on every word.”
She was watching me trying to send messages on my new phone. And she was right. It wasn’t pretty.
Picture a baby hippo, penning an important note on the latest communication device. Letters being splayed left, right and sideways.
Incredibly, the phone tries to help. This amazing function called auto-correct. The tiny people inside pick up my mistakes before I’ve finished them, and suggest the correct word.
There’s only one problem. These mini-wordsmiths sometimes come up with words I don’t want. And when I’m messaging without my glasses on, which is often, I don’t always realise this.
There have been several near misses. No law suits just yet. It’s only a matter of time.
What my bulky digits do, is make the process of messaging longer than it needs to be. I am constantly fixing, and erasing.
I can’t walk and thumb-type. The girls find this a major embarrassment. If we’re at the shops, they’ll keep walking, pretending they don’t know me, when I stop mid-stride to make a reply.
It wasn’t always this difficult. I used a typewriter once. In the days of silent movies. Those two fingers served me well, as they do all these years later on the computer keyboard.
Before phones went mobile, I carried a pager. We all did. Mine worked perfectly across vast areas. Except inside the local RSL club. Try as they might, they couldn’t contact me in there. Must have been something in the walls.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for progress. The features on this new phone are mind-blowing. I’ve mentioned them on these pages before.
So if this amazing piece of technology can let me take video, and check the weather in Mt Isa, and play my favourite John Cash songs, why can’t it accommodate my fat thumbs?
There’s a challenge for you tech-whizzes out there. Design something for my kind. For your trouble, we’ll send you nice clean messages. Every time. I pronise.