Attentive listening: poorly laptops and professors

My laptop has recently taken it upon itself to decide whether to turn on or not, or whether to simply turn itself off midway through something I might be doing. I can’t tell you just how frustrating this is. I took it to our local repair man, who unplugged the battery, counted to ten and reconnected the battery. Heigh-ho, the computer turned on and ran perfectly for the next hour. Then it started playing up again.

So, I looked to see which local laptop repairer had the best reviews. I took my laptop there and just like the disappearing toothache that happens when you finally get to the dentist, my laptop just turned on. Well Paul, the repairer, wasn’t a happy bunny and said he would hang on to it and see if he could find the problem. I was getting slightly worried when, after a week, I hadn’t heard from him. However, last Wednesday, he texted to say everything was fine and to come and collect my laptop.

I did, paid the £40 repair bill, checked that it was working and feeling really happy, I went home. Now I walked home. It is a relatively short journey - 4 km at most. Took me 45 minutes tops. I plugged the laptop in and lifted the lid and nothing happened. The screen was black and nothing I could do changed this. Staring at the screen, I went through a range of emotions. Anger, frustration, disbelief, depression, more frustration. None of which either helped me or got my computer working.

Now I’m sharing my laptop woes not for sympathy, but because of what else happened in Paul’s workshop that first Wednesday. There was a woman and a young boy at the counter before me. The boy was in Year 7 at school. Let’s call him Mark. The woman was his Mum. Now being 11-12 years old can be a funny time in anyone’s development. You are not quite a teenager, but you are moving away from being a young child. They were there, as Mark’s tablet screen was smashed, to get it replaced.

Paul said he could certainly replace the screen, but after looking up the price of a replacement (£150), explained that it probably wasn’t worth it. He told them that it was a relatively limited machine and even, if he repaired it, Mark would quickly get frustrated with the lack of power, memory and connectivity. Mum said it was what the school had recommended buying, and it had all Mark’s schoolwork on it and he was worried about losing it all. Paul showed them a second-hand laptop and said that he could take everything off Marks tablet and put it onto the new laptop. It would be exactly the same, except that Mark would now have more power, memory and it would do things at least ten times faster than his tablet.

Both Mum and Mark didn’t look, or sound, convinced. Mum wanted to know, if it really would look the same, operate in the same way and so forth. Paul assured them it would and that if they wanted to buy the laptop, he would move everything for them across free of charge. When they came to pick it up, Mark could stay as long as it took for him to be happy with it. Mum was still not convinced.

Paul then started talking to Mark directly, not about the broken screen, nor the laptop, but about school, his friends, what games he played and so on. Gradually Mark began to engage in the conversation and Paul carefully brought their discussion back to whether Mark wanted his screen repaired or go for the laptop option. Mum was silent. We all waited. I was silently willing Mark to take the laptop option. And eventually he said ‘Yes please, could he go for the laptop’. We all let out a collective sigh of relief.

Paul said he would have it ready, if they came back tomorrow. Talking to Mark, Paul also said that the laptop cost £175, so how was Mark going to repay his mum. Mum said what about doing the pots every day for the next week. A smiling Mark agreed, and they both left the shop. It was now my turn and that’s when we found that my laptop had now decided to turn on and Paul was wanting to investigate more to find out what the real problem might be. Last Thursday, I took my laptop back again and explained what had occurred when I got it home. Paul was puzzled; I was exasperated. He immediately started to take the machine apart and after 30 mins was still no closer to knowing what the problem was. He too was now becoming exasperated, and I was losing the will to live. It had been a long day, and it was now 5.45pm.

As I had nothing to do, I asked Paul if Mark and his mum had picked up their laptop and whether they were happy. Yes, they had and yes, they were. I told Paul I was very impressed with his customer care and particularly the way that he had dealt with the young lad. His response surprised me. He told me that he was almost sure Mark was on the autistic spectrum and he wanted to reflect that in the way he spoke and dealt with both mum and Mark. I asked why he thought Mark might have been autistic.

Paul said he had listened closely to what Mum was saying about the new machine looking and being exactly like her son’s tablet. That gave him a clue and his conversation with Mark had confirmed his thinking. I was impressed and told him about Oliver McGowan, and how his avoidable death in hospital was a result of NHS staff not understanding Oliver’s autism and how it affected him. Oliver’s parents’ campaign for change in the way that NHS professionals were trained, resulted in a mandatory training programme for all NHS staff on how to develop their skills and approach to caring for people of all ages, living with a learning disability and/or autism.  Attentive listening is part of that approach, and I said to Paul that he had demonstrated exactly this, and it had resulted in a brilliant outcome for all.

Sadly, my laptop is still under Paul’s care; the reason for its poorly condition, still undiagnosed. I, on the other hand, know why I’m feeling poorly, I have a full-blown Bank Holiday weekend streaming cold and chesty cough.