Know It All

Marty feels inadequate. He’s a well educated guy, successful in business (manufacturer of a teeth whitener), a good family man. But he’s consumed with the feeling that his knowledge of many topical subjects is superficial.

For instance, Marty has a digital camera. He knows how to point and shoot, and he can transfer the images to his computer. That’s about the extent of his knowledge. He would like to know so much more, to have some expertise. He’d like to know how to use the camera’s burst mode and how to manually set the shutter and aperture. He’d love to be familiar with the ISO and be able to set it. He has no idea whether his camera has an aperture priority or orientation sensor or whether he could do a time-lapse recording. He has a vague idea that the more pixels, the better, although his experience is, the more pixels, the higher the price. He recalls reading somewhere that, unless he is going to enlarge a photo to the size of a wall, he doesn’t need a double-digit pixel density.

And wouldn’t it be lovely if he knew how to use Photoshop. He could sit down on rainy afternoons and manipulate photos—bring his kids into focus, eliminate wrinkles and his bald spot, make his threadbare blazer look like cashmere, maybe even insert the late, great family dog in family shots.

Every morning Marty grabs the sports section of the Chron. He can keep track of batting averages; he’s pleased that Barry Zito is justifying his high salary and is sorry that Matt Cain doesn’t get more offensive support. But there are always stories about salary caps, bonuses for rookies, guaranteed contracts, luxury tax, incentive payments, restricted free agency. Marty feels he lacks a true understanding of these vital concepts. When a ballplayer is sent down to the minor leagues or a guy is brought in on a ten-day contract, what are the terms of compensation?

Marty’s knowledge is deficient in other areas, too. He has always had a vague desire to cultivate a garden. So far he can water plants in pots. He and his wife have an area that would be suitable for a garden. Marty has always been fascinated by gardening terms, but he’s not quite sure what they mean. For instance, he has never been sure what mulch is. All he can think of is mulching popcorn at the movies. He’s got a couple of fruit trees in the backyard and knows they are supposed to be pruned. No matter how much he reads online about pruning, he is sure he will screw it up, the trees will die.  And, of course, he’s always been told that compost is important. But he’s not certain what compost is actually.

Marty goes to the gardening store, hoping a member of the staff will have the patience to educate him. He encounters a salesman with wire-rimmed glasses, a little goatee, a green apron, and a superior air. Marty timidly says he would like to plant some flowers. The salesman (“Hi, my name is Trevor; I’ll be your sales associate today”) responds, “Well, are you thinking of caltha leptosepala or cypripedium calceolus pubescens? We’re having a special on gynandriris sisyrinchium today.” Marty feels like kicking him in the groin.

Of course, the biggest challenge is the computer. Marty has a friend, Keith, who comes over whenever Marty has a computer problem. Keith sits down and immediately goes to mysterious areas, such as “settings” and “accessories.” He pulls up and manipulates various windows, shoving them around with abandon. He’s not afraid to “disable” certain functions. He will go to deep places that produce a black screen and white print. Keith is fearless in his navigation. Problem with a balky McAfee download? Well, we’ll just go to Tools, then Options, then Advanced, then Reset. Hey, end of problem.

Meanwhile, Marty remains in awe of his computer and fearful of its power. He knows instinctively that if he tried to do what Keith does so effortlessly, the computer would become enraged and strike back, doing something like stunting the growth of his children.

Marty fantasizes about having complete mastery of his computer. He wields his mouse like a baton. He alters its configuration with impunity. He modifies its tasks so that it can take his blood pressure every morning and increase the IQs of his immediate family members. When he turns on the machine, he is absolutely giddy with its possibilities. The computer smiles at him, waiting to be instructed, waiting to take over Marty’s daily tasks, to enhance his sex life, triple his income, firm up his body, make him witty and self-confident.

Asher Rubin has in-depth knowledge of many subjects, principally imported Bing cherries and toothpicks with frilly things on top. He is on the verge of figuring out how to e-mail his monthly pieces to the NHG.