As I looked over, my eye caught a restaurant. It was a small red, almost barn like, building off the cut. The large yellow letters above the door, spelled out what we know them for, is seen from a distance. 

Inside this building is one of my wife’s favorite things to eat. It had been a long morning for her with the kids, and I had been out running some errands. I sent her a text, asking if she would want me to pick up what she likes from there.

“OK” was the response. 

I turned around, went in, waited a minute, and ordered. The exchange was polite; I handed over my card for payment.

Instead of taking it as usual, they tipped over the card machine. It took a second, but I realized I could just insert the card into the back of this new device. 

This technological marvel was bigger than most card readers. It had big, bright, vibrant colored touch screen buttons. They encased the touchscreen in a clean white plastic.

Once the machine accepts the card, he turned it around for me to finish the transaction. It prompted me to verify the price. It was correct, so I hit the button.

It then asked me for my pin, which I rarely use. 

I looked up at the employee – “Which button for credit?”

The person behind the counter said “skip.” 

“Yea, which button is it?” I asked.

As if encountering this dilemma before, he let out a brief, half muted chuckle and pointed to a big blue button. On that button is the word SKIP. 

“Does this happen often?” I inquired with a smile and a laugh while shaking my head in disbelief. I didn’t see it. 

“Just about every time.” The person behind the counter said. 

“It’s just too simple.” I responded. 

“I think youre right.” He laughed. 

As I walked away from that encounter, my mind mulled over the idea that it was just “too simple.”

Think about it, they accustom us to those small black card readers which typically have a red, yellow and green button. Depending on where you go, sometimes you have to hit the red, other times the green and on a rare occasion the yellow button to bypass entering the pin to use the card as credit. 

Sometimes, there is a note on the machine which button to press for credit. 

Here we have a machine that takes all the guesswork out of it. It tells you up front which button is the skip button. Something we are not used to, however, it is a much more simple option. It was so simple compared to what they have trained us to use that we now have to be retrained to use it. 

Though this action was simple, and more simple than normal, it caused confusion more so because it was unexpected and unknown.

My mind continued to mull over this odd concept that simplicity can cause confusion. I guess it’s not that odd, because it’s much like having too much information can cause inaction. 

There is a common thread here that we might not always realize because when we think of simple, we think of easier and while that might be true, easier doesn’t mean we won’t have to recondition our brain to act in this easier way. 

What I took away from this is that sometimes simple requires education. We could caulk it up to common sense, however, what’s common to me isn’t always common to the next person.

Sometimes, even when we find it simple, it might be because we have done it so many times and the person next to us hasn’t. We might have to educate on simple tasks, because its new, just as the employee had to educate me on, what I consider, a more simple approach to a card reader. 

What this boils down to is patience. Patience’s with ourselves when we get something “simple” wrong and patience with others when they do the same.

Confusion in something simple invites us to respond with patience and compassion within the life of someone else. It brings about an opportunity when we can be better and be helpful to ourselves and to the next person. 

The next time you are at work, home, school or even the internet. Remember, sometimes simple can confuse and a little patience in that situation benefits everyone.