What's Wrong?

I wonder why it is that whenever focused concentration is necessary, everybody wants to know 'what's wrong.'
It happens to everybody, whether you are trying to remove a sliver with a sewing needle or get the sock that fell behind the dryer. Explaining won't do any good because they can't really help anyway, but you are compelled to stop what you are doing to explain so that 'they' will grunt and go away.
Now when is this compulsion the most frustrating? You know when. When you most need to keep your mind entirely on a computer task. It is painful for the on-looker to keep their mouth shut and just let the other one work in silence.
I know how painful it is not to say, “What's wrong,” because right now Jerry is trying to buy and print a Northwest Washington Fair ticket from a computer that wasn't hooked up to a printer when he bought the ticket. As the minutes that the vendor allotted tick away, mumbled sentences alert me as he searches for 'wireless encryption' number and the floppy disk that downloads the printer program onto the new computer.
I've been halfway across the room at least five times in response to half sentences like, 'How do we get the numbers....” or “What is the....” Or '5935...0... is that a 1 or a 7....” “Now how do I...” “Oh shoot!” So far I have been able to close my mouth and sit back down without interrupting him.
For one thing, I couldn't help if I had to. My technical expertise consists of checking to make sure the cords are all plugged in. But still, there's a compulsion, like scratching an almost healed sore, to stand behind him and ask, well, you know.

Nancy Sherer