CAMERON: A geek by any other name is a nerd

By W. Bruce Cameron, Special to the Rocky

Published January 26, 2008 at 12:05 a.m.

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There seems to be some controversy among my children as to whether I am a geek or a nerd. (My son insists that we consider "dork" as well, but my daughters feel that is too pejorative.)

The argument is confusing to me, because neither of the two descriptions seems very manly. Shouldn't the dispute be whether I am a "he-man" or a "hotty"?

"No," my older daughter tells me.

"You're making me kind of sick," my younger daughter adds kindly.

At issue is whether I know enough technology to be a "geek" - those guys we laughed at in high school for being scrawny and bookish who now earn seven figures in stock options - or whether I am instead so klutzy as to be a "nerd" - those guys we laughed at in high school for being scrawny and bookish who we now laugh at for being nerds.

I'd rather be a geek, so I agreed to take my Geek Oral Exams, administered by my daughters because my son still insists I'm a dork.

"OK, Dad. First question," my older daughter intones sternly. "What is text messaging?"

"That's easy," I reply smugly. "Text messaging is where people avoid social interaction with the people in the room in favor of typing out misspelled messages in broken English on their cell phones."

"We don't always use broken English," my younger daughter objects.

I scribble a note to her. "Im shur U R rite!"

They look at each other. "OK, please explain the terms 'software,' 'bits,' 'bytes,' 'computer user,' 'cursor.' "

"OK. Software is the means by which your computer takes a byte out of your income and chews it to bits, turning the user into a curser."

"Dad," my younger daughter says, "by being a big so-called jokester you are failing your Geek Orals, plus I need to borrow $10."

"I . . . huh?"

"What does 'LOL' stand for?" my older daughter asks.

"LOL," I mutter. "Oh, OK. I've got it. It stands for 'Loving Our Llama.' "

Their faces are completely blank, as if contemplating how to wrestle me into a straitjacket.

"See, back in the old days, before electricity, we didn't use a mouse, we used a llama."

I've got them there. My children truly believe that I grew up in the era before electricity, flush toilets and respiration.

"Computers were actually stone vessels filled with water, and instead of sending our friends an e-mail, we just set them on fire. For money we exchanged mouthfuls of mud, and no father ever understood what it was like to be a teenager, or what his children were going through, or how expensive it was to go to the mall even if you weren't planning to spend anything."

I can see what they're thinking: It certainly sounds true, especially the part where the fathers don't understand anything. "I'd better borrow $20," my younger daughter agrees.

"What's Bluetooth?" my older daughter challenges.

"It's a temporary condition caused by eating blueberry pie," I answer smartly.

"And firewire?"

"That's where your employer lays you off by sending you a telegram."

"A telegram?" my younger daughter asks uncertainly. "What's that?"

"I get extra points for knowing technology that you don't," I assert. "A telegram is sort of like an e-mail, except that instead of using a llama people often delivered them on horses. Or you could just go down to the telegraph office, which is a little like a mall except girls aren't there spending their father's money."

"I'm not going to spend your money. The $40 is just in case," my younger daughter objects.

"I thought it was $20."

"I just remembered there's this belt I want to get."

"Dad, last question: I need a new laptop," my older daughter says.

"Sorry?"

"A true geek is always willing to buy a new computer," she reasons. "And mine is ancient, it's like two years old."

"So this whole thing was just a crass attempt to pressure me into buying you a laptop," I stated.

"No," my younger daughter countered, "also I need to borrow $40."

Ultimately I decided not to buy the computer or lend the 40 bucks.

I'm such a dork.

Write to Bruce at bruce@wbrucecameron.com.

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