I Hate People Touching My Monitor

I had a hard time wearing glasses because of the inevitable scratches, smears and motes of dust that would end up on the lenses. Sure, they were hard to see, but there were there. And I knew it. By the time I broke down and got contact lenses, I was washing my glasses every couple of hours and refusing to go anywhere where I wouldn't be able to.

Similarly, when I had the materials I kept my watch crystal clear and promptly polished out scratches when they appeared. I watch my shoes for scuffs and my knives for nicks in the blades and I deal with both immediately.

Yes, perhaps I am a little disturbed. But that's even more reason for people to keep their greasy fingers off my monitor.

I can tell when someone's been at my computer. There are finger-sized smudges all over the glass, distracting from the images. It gets worse if I've let a group of people use it to look at something. Even if it's for a minute, they feel the need to mash their clumsy paws directly over some point of interest on the screen.

You can't touch it, genius. It's inside the screen. Do these orangutans try to grab the beer out of the TV when it goes to commercial? Judging by that recent rash of TVs destroyed when the viewer saw a pest control commercial, it seems likely. Apparently the countless hours Americans log in front of various tubes didn't teach them to keep their hands to themselves.

I like to help people with computers in the rare case that they're less adept than I am, and I like to think I'm a patient person. I prefer to explain to the pupil what to do next, rather than grab the mouse and do the task myself. Give a man a fish and all that.

But whenever the person who I'm valiantly attempting to instruct asks me a question, they feel the need to jab their dirty meathooks at the offending word or button on the screen. I'll indicate words, too, but they fail to notice that at no time do my fingers actually touch the screen. BONK! Their stubby digits hit the glass, making the monitor wobble. If they can accept that I'm able to help them with a computer program, why can't they figure out that I can mentally bridge the two-inch gap between finger and screen? With every poke, I wince and become more tense, as the person in the chair becomes to me a bumbling rube, fresh off the turnip truck.

As I regain my seat, the light behind me brings every smear into focus before the words I type, and I regret once again my decision to pass on knowledge.

I don't want to ask people not to touch the monitor. Besides the fact that they should know already, it seems to be perceived as an unfriendly gesture. People recoil or look hurt. I'm not saying their fingers are dirtier than anyone else's. I don't touch the screen myself, either. Would they take offense if someone asked them to wipe their feet or not sit on the Louis XIV sofa?

Wise up, America! Keep your hands off my goddamn monitor!