I've gotta hand it to them, one thing the Germans excel at is mechanical and technological know-how.
Historically, Germany was not the most richly-endowed apple of the bunch in terms of natural resources. In the Middle Ages, they didn't have the flax to weave into linen like France and England. They didn't have the spices and access to trade like Italy and Spain did.They certainly didn't have the tobacco and cotton that the new world did, nor did they have a thriving sea-faring enterprise with which to colonize, like England, France and Spain did. So, the Germans learned to compete by taking every one else's raw materials and figuring out what to do with them--and how to do it in the most efficient, economic and technologically sophisticated way. This may not be the land of flax or wheat or spices or trade, but it is the land of the printing press, SIEMENS, Volkswagen, Daimler-Chrysler, and a few other things.
As such, there are two universal, unspoken laws when it comes to this level of what I call mech-savy:
1.) Give a German some kind of physical object that requires a multi-step process to operate, and he/she will know what to do with it.
2.) If a German doesn't know how to work the object/ machine, 99% of the time, it is because that object was not logically or efficiently designed in the first place.
3.) If an object, machine or part is German-designed, it will make sense. If at first you don't understand, it is because you do not think as practically, compactly and efficiently as the Germans.
I came face to face with this facet of German mentality on Friday morning, a day which marked the umpteenth-day anniversary since I started having all manner of technological problems in this country from my internet to my computer to my cell phone. On account of the fact I'd been in there nearly everyday the whole week, the man in the cell phone shop already knew me by first name, a rare demonstration of social intimacy here that in the US is the equivalent to promising your best friend with your first born child. I had already bought ANOTHER German Sim-card for my cell phone, charged and recharged it, gotten a new phone number... And still, my phone read "No Sim-Card inserted, emergency calls only." A SIM-card, by the way, is that little plastic chip you have to put in the back of your phone, underneath the battery, any time you get a new cell phone contract. It's like your phone's little id card in the world of cell phones--it tells other phones what your phone number is and who your service is through. My phone had apparently lost its ability to detect its own sim card and by Friday, I had lost my ability to detect my own sanity.
"Look, I NEED that cell phone to work so I can call the internet company, so they can come fix my internet, so that I can then fix my computer, " I explained to the man. He nodded.
"Unfortunately, Nicole, nothing seems to work. I can only guess that something is wrong with your phone. Can you send it to the manufacturer to repair?" He asked.
"I bought it used on Amazon," I stated, nearly in tears. "I needed an unlocked phone to use in Europe and that's the only way I could afford one. That was a year ago--there's no way the random person I bought it from is going to be able to do anything. I've never had problems until this last Christmas. I don't have money to be buying a new phone with!"
"YOu said this also happened in Canada, as well?"
"Yes, when I had the North American Sim-card in." I told him.
He shook his head, and said that he had never seen anything like this--a phone that couldn't read a cell phone. He was sorry but there was nothing else he could do. He shook my hand goodbye (another Deutschism for another day) and wished me and my phone luck. As I was exiting, however, he suddenly called out to me.
"Wait!" He said. "I just thought of one more thing! Let me see that phone again."
And I knew, as soon as he said that, that he would be able to save my phone, because when a German sees the technological light, there's nothing that can stop them. As he began peeling layers off my phone, removing the battery and everything else, he proceeded to make small talk. We talked about the library, my program, my degree.
"A PhD, huh?" He said. "Wow, that must mean you're really smart, right?"
I nodded awkwardly, just trying to go along with the conversation, then shook my head realizing that nodding was probably going to make me look full of myself.
"I don't know. I suppose I was just trained by smart people," I answered finally. But secretly, it was nice to hear a German call me smart, because compliments from them are so few and far between.
"Huh," he trailed off, staring at the inside of my phone. "And in all that 'training' no one told you how to insert a sim card into a cell phone in the right direction?" I stared at him.
"Nein!" I yelled, as he turned the phone so I could see him take the sim card out and flip it around.
"Ja!" He yelled just as loud. "So, let me get this straight. You are getting your doctorate, and the last two times you've traveled, you've managed to insert the SIM card incorrectly, and then you had the audacity to blame it on your cell phone, and then on my service here, and then..."
But I didn't listen to the rest of what he said because by now, I just tune out the German social shaming rituals. As he expressed his thoughts on my intelligence (or the lack thereof) with increasing creativity, I walked out the door smiling. Thanks to German ingenuity, my long week of mech-stress came to an end. Next task is to conquer my slow internet on Tuesday.
