Kristi's Korner

Ten years ago I sat in a crowded classroom of a local high school, trying to focus between the ringing and dinging of obnoxious chimes. It wasn’t a bell choir or even a music class. It was Typing 101.

Typing 101! I sat up perfectly straight with my delicate fingers poised above the home keys of an electric typewriter. As I typed away I envisioned all the new opportunities a typewriter could give me—polished reports, professional correspondence and perhaps better yet, an anonymous love letter. My great idea was almost a reality, and just as I prepared to type, “I love you,” the angry little machine scared me. It let out a shrill and sudden “ding!” before it violently zipped and retreated to start a new row. My paper read, “I lobe you.”

Within a year or two I think an entire landfill was dug for typewriters. I sat in the same classroom, this time learning web design on a bulky IBM. The possibilities with this new technology seemed abundant. And now, ten years later, they seem endless.

With the touch of a button, that anonymous love letter can be translated into fifty different languages. And if I don’t know where to send it—heck, if I never even knew the guys’ name—our eyes simply locked at a café in Southern France—then some clever Google searches will reveal to me that he’s a single Aquarius named Jacques, who loves long walks on the beach and strawberry gelato. Perfect!

I have a family member who works 90 miles away, but doesn’t spend a dime on the commute. She does Pilates each morning and makes the perfect cup of coffee before settling in front of her laptop. She is part of a growing population of professionals who work from home. As a woman, technology will allow her to balance her career and a budding family. I envision her continued success, holding her cell phone to her ear with her shoulder, sending a few emails and spooning baby food to her first child.

The new roads paved by technology in the past decade are incredible—but far from perfect. Spell check didn’t catch my typing error and I sent Jacques an email stating, “I lobe you.” I’m still waiting to hear back from him.

Editor's Note: He won't call, Kristi. . .not after that earful.