I took a typing class in 8th grade, about 70 years ago. I wanted to learn ways to make writing that was clear and easy to read. I didn't realize going into that class that it was basically structured for those who would type from notes or handwriting. I didn't realize that composing from my head to my fingers on a keyboard was not the sort of typing envisioned for the class nor by the authors of the text. We did calculations in that class to determine our typing speed. I always came up as a slow typist, one or two words a minute.
In those far-off days, of course, the typewriter had an ink-saturated ribbon and the keys struck the ribbon, leaving a mark in the shape of the letter on the paper.
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I realize that typing, transmitting to other machines, searching for information and other tasks are performed by computers at much higher speeds that I can do them. I am impatient about nearly everything so I notice when a machine takes longer to do something than I want, or than I expect. I don't notice when I take several minutes and the machine calmly waits, on the alert the whole time. I notice when this computer takes a while, probably less than a minute to switch to another program, one that is already open. But do you realize how long a minute is?
My car starts fast enough. Our garage door opener works quickly. I don't seem to have other machines or processes that drag on, one second after another. I do believe in a principle that I call "C'est moi". It's me, not the machines. I decide how long something "should" take. I decide when the expected time period has passed by. I decide that I am being cheated by a slow machine. I am fully aware that George Washington (yes, Happy Birthday, George) never had to wait and wait for his spreadsheet to finally decide to open up.
