digital immigrants
Transcript of an actual conversation that occured at my mother’s house, after hearing several strange noises emanate from the speakers of my mother’s wireless-endowed laptop, which she was using from her spot in the recliner:
Me: What are you doing?
Mom: I’m IMing Neil, and shopping.
Me: Ooh, it’s “IMing” now. You’re a black turtleneck and a latte away from being part of my generation.
Mom: … (famous glare levelled at me)
Pat (my stepdad): (quietly snickers)
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