When I went to Asia a couple summers ago on a mission trip, I had to get my work laptop encrypted (which is a process that only super smart techy people know about that protects sensitive data and involves lingo only they understand).
A super smart techy person set it up for me and give me strict instructions what to do if I had trouble remembering the 31 character password, or if my hard drive crashed and I needed to have a technician work on it. The encryption itself was pretty cool because whenever I turned the laptop on a black screen would show up that said "Hard Drive Disk Failure." All you had to do to get past it was type in that 31 character password. If my laptop was stolen or confiscated, data would not be at risk because no one could get past that screen. Sometimes even I couldn't get past it, especially if I hadn't had my morning coffee yet. When I got home from the trip I noticed my laptop made kind of a funny noise. I didn't do anything about it for several months, until it got bad enough that my cubicle neighbors commented about the noise pollution it was creating. Oops. I called a technician who took me through a myriad of tests to check different areas of the computer. He concluded that the fan just probably needed to be replaced, not the hard drive (which was what I was afraid of). The Dell tech came by the office the next week, and I set him up in my cubicle to do his magic. Can you see where this is going? I sat in an empty cube nearby and didn't even think about warning him about the "Hard Drive Disk Failure" notification that comes up whenever you restart the computer. After about 45 minutes I checked up on him. Panic was written all over his face. He pointed at the screen, eyes wide. Sure enough, the failure warning was there and he had no idea what to do. I assured him that was normal and cranked out my password, hitting the "enter" key with a flourish. He stared at me blankly. He explained that he had been sitting there for 20 minutes trying to figure out what he did wrong! Oops. Like the Dell tech, I'm not one to ask for help. I'd rather figure things out on my own. If I ask for help on task at work, I might end up losing some of the control I have over the final product. If I ask for help about a software issue, others might find out how much I don't know, and I might feel stupid. If I ask for help with a big project, I may be admitting I can't handle my workload. These things might be true, but they aren't all that bad. Demanding complete and utter control over every single element of my work actually limits my potential. Refusing to ask for help leads to pride, not humility. Recognizing when I'm in over my head is not weak, it's wise. Had the Dell tech asked for my help, I could have alleviated a little stress and frustration. The irony is that I don't know a thing about computers, and I had called him for help, so I don't blame him for not asking me. But you never know what you might learn when you ask for help.
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Amy WellnerEncouraging others to intentionally live out their God-given identity. Archives
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