I’d like to share a story about one of my friends. I call him IT Man, and he is pretty amazing. He told me this, and I will relate it the way he did, in his voice.
When I was young, I had many friends. Now, I find myself tinkling away at computers and writing codes.
I have trouble organizing my thoughts, but I can organize the components to build a computer from a crate. All I need is a Phillips, motherboard, and a few components, and zap, it is done. They call me IT Man, sort of like Rain Man.
Remember the Dustin Hoffman character? He was good with numbers, but I’m good with technology. I guess if I got diagnosed, they would put me somewhere on the spectrum, but I don’t need another label. Labels are for jars, not people.
Most technology engineers have to get their applications, software, and hardware from different places, but I use one company for all my needs: eMazzanti Technologies. eMazzanti has an eStore where I can order just about everything I need direct. I have a dedicated account manager who treats me like I’m the most important person in the world. That means a lot to me because sometimes when I speak, it takes me a minute to get my point across, and I’m just a one-person show, not a big company.
I fix all sorts of devices, like POS [Point of Sale] systems, and cameras in the neighborhood bodegas; for Tippy, the 6th grader down the hall, every year I fix questionable laptops from her school. I can hear her mother with that thick Brooklyn accent saying, “Take it to IT Man, he’ll know what to do.”
On top of that, there are companies that call me to steal back their ransomed files. I can fix any hardware, write a program for anything, or hack into any type of technology. Some people were born for real-world stuff; my brain was wired for this.
Recently, my mother asked me to build a rig for her — with a touchscreen to make video calls, email, and listen to her favorite songs. I never thought twice about whether I could do it. My mother has always asked me to do things that the average person considers impossible.
So, I reached out to eMazzanti to order some parts. My mom is the least tech-savvy person I know, so after I ordered parts for the build, I called my dedicated account manager to set me up with a secure route for her internet, MXINSPECT for her email, and cloud backup — because it’s not a matter of if, but when we will need to recover lost files. I also set her up with Managed Mailbox because, well, some people simply have more patience than I do.
My mother does everything with a gentle hand and a kind attitude, and boy does she love to laugh, and dream. And she dreams big. Like lately, she believes her dance skills will land her on “Dancing with the Stars,” AS AN INSTRUCTOR. I really don’t know where to draw the line with myself, but I can’t help but encourage her. I mean, who am I kidding? Her dance costume includes gym socks with high heels. Honestly, is this a trend?
Well, back to this narrative. As my parts start to arrive, I get a call from my Account Manager at eMazzanti. “Hey, Captain, you should have a couple of packages at your door.” I respond that, “I have it, man, thank you so much for how quickly you guys get these things out.”
My AM tells me, “No problem,” and then I say, “Hey, I didn’t see the flux capacitor computer power supplementor for David’s computer.”
They respond, “I got you, Captain, it says delivering now.”
What?, are you kidding?
“Yeah. 5, 4, 3, 2…”
“Man,” I say, “how do you do that? Hold on, I hear a knock at the door.”
“It’s Grubhub,” my dad calls out. “Nope, nope. It’s for me,” I say, opening the door, and there it is. I open the box. “Yep! Yep! Okay, eMazzanti, I see you. You never disappoint. Thank you. Thanks again, I’ll call you next week to get my mother online.”
“Okay, that’s good, see ya.” Click, the phone hangs up. I exaggerate not.
As I turn on my work light to start the task, my mother knocks at the door and pokes her head in. “Super exciting, is this all me?” she asks.
I tell her, “All for you, mom. Eh-eh-eh- everything. I’m going to set you up really nice.”
“Captain, I don’t want to put you under too much pressure, but… but… but…” she sings and slides magically all the way into my workspace. “So,” she says, “I called Dancing with the Stars. They are having some computer issues which, as you know, controls everything.”
“Mom,” I whisper, as I spin my chair around to face her, “I only have one question for you. Is Mrs. Spector involved?”
“Who is that?” she winces.
“Mom,” I say, encouraging her, as I study her features.
“OK, She’s a grandmother,” she blurts out.
“Yeah, but, but I know what kind of a grandmother is she?”
”An ethical one,” my mom says, hurried and hushed.
“Okay, go on, what do you two have cooking?”
“Well, I’m glad you asked,” Mom says. “I put your name up as an IT Man for any break fixes.”
Now I’m the one wondering. “Can, you tell me how you managed that?” I grimace.
“Funny thing,” she says in hyper-lapse fashion. “See, Mrs. Spector volunteers at the studio during the summer when she’s visiting family in Los Angeles. And she added your name to the list as an engineer, after there was a mishap with their technology.”
She takes a deep breath and says casually, “Actually, your dad and I are flying out tomorrow to visit the show. Do you want to come, too?”
Squinting, I search her face for any evil traces. Finally, I say, “Okay.”
With the departure of Tyra Banks and no immediate permanent replacement, somehow, just somehow, my mother squirmed her way into that seat for a rehearsal run-through.
So the next day, the three of us are in the studio. Mom and dad are on stage, and I am thrilled to be in the projection room. It’s a dream come true for all of us. “There she is, ladies and gentlemen,” DWTS Co-host Alfonso Ribeiro shouts out on the mic, “Selma Stickler!”
Meanwhile, I’m just peeking up every once in a while, taking it all in. Then I stop for a second and look over and see my dad, looking at my mom, blushing. So happy to see my mother LITERALLY making her dreams come true. I have always admired the way my dad cherishes my mom.
Ribeiro throws his hand up, and off comes “Fly Me To The Moon” with Michael Bublé. He spins around and asks my mother to join him. My dad looks over and says, ”Scoot, sweetie.”
And there — there she goes with those infamous knee-high socks and heels. And, people, she tells Ribeiro how to swing her around. And, yep, my mom’s at Dancing with the Stars, instructing. She’s pretty good.
They are playing my favorite version of the song with Breea Guttery. Poof! The magic happens, the stage lights come on. The work I’ve been doing in the media room is paying off. The skylights project stars everywhere.
My dad steps out to take the dance from Ribeiro. I’m not a dancer, but I cannot stand by and leave a beautiful moment. I make my way down the back and through the theater. As I walk onto the stage, my mom turns and looks at me, and all I can say is that I am so glad she never let me get away with being different.
Mom reaches both hands out to me, and I have no idea what I was doing. A little bit of panic sets in, but I push it back. And I follow her instructions.
“One, two, three, up, one, two, three, back. Drive me, Captain. You are in charge. Remember, the woman is delicate in your arms.”
“Jeeze, Mom, when you say it like that…”
“Okay, okay,” She says. The sounds of cheers and clapping from different corners of the theater are like music to my ears. Ribeiro says, “Are you the IT Man?”
“Yep, yep,” I respond, looking down, sweeping my foot.
“So what exactly did you have to do, man?” he asks.
“This and that, but I did have help from eMazzanti Technologies.”
“You fixed the show, man,” Ribeiro shouts out. “You fixed the show.”
“Yeah, well…” I hesitate. Then I ask him, “Hey, can I get a quick video for my eMazzanti account manager?”
“Sure, man, what do you want me to say?” Ribeiro asks me.
“eMazzanti rocks!”
“You got it, man,” he says. “Get in here with me.”
“I can record,” Dad says, walking over.
“1-2-3, eMazzanti rocks!,” Ribeiro sings. “1-2-3, eMazzanti rocks!,”
And a star is born.
As told to Gabrielle Taylor
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