Dad wanted to attend his condo owners’ meeting, but he was in New York and the meeting was in Florida. So I set up Zoom for him, and we practiced logging on.
“Let’s do it one more time,” I told Dad.
“No, I don’t need to. I’ve got it. Don’t assume I’m an idiot,” he insisted.
“I’m not assuming anything. I just want you to be able to get into the meeting.”
“I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. Don’t worry so much.”
I thought, if he’s not worried, I’m not going to worry. I left for work.
I did, though, set a reminder for myself, and, right before the time of the meeting, I called Dad to see if he had logged on. “Can you see and hear OK?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m in,” he bristled, “go back to whatever you’re doing.” So I did.
When I got home from work hours later, Dad was sitting in his recliner next to his computer, with a look of contentment. “I did it, I saw the whole meeting – they’re a bunch of nuts – but I saw and heard the whole thing. They even sent everybody a recording of it.”
“That’s great, Dad. Let’s see.”
Dad loaded the file, and we watched it.
After the first few minutes, I had to ask, “Dad, you could see lots of people, right?”
“Yeah. Some are unbelievable.”
“Do you know they could all see you, too?”
“No, I didn’t think about that.”
“Yes, they could see you, just like you could see them.”
“So, for the next meeting, Dad, please don’t floss your teeth or pick your nose.”