How I Accidentally Became the IT Guy for My Family

I didn’t apply for this role.
No one interviewed me.
One day, I just… became it The Family IT Guy.

You fix one Wi-Fi issue at Christmas, and suddenly you’re their personal tech support line.
No pay. No PTO. No peace.

It always starts the same way

“David, please, my phone is hanging.”
“My Gmail is full, can you help me delete Google?”
“This your VPN thing, can it make my DSTV work without subscription?”

And because you’re the “computer one,” you can’t say no.
So you spend your Saturday debugging your uncle’s 2012 HP laptop, praying the hinges hold long enough to install Chrome.

Meanwhile, he’s hovering behind you saying things like,

“Ehn, that place you’re typing, are you sure it won’t delete my bank app?”

You’re one wrong keypress away from becoming the villain.

The curse of competence

See, the problem isn’t that I know tech
it’s that I look like I know everything.
To them, DevOps = fixing printers.
Kubernetes? Just another word for “my WhatsApp no dey open.”

You can explain CI/CD all day,
but until you set up a new decoder remote,
you’re not a real engineer in Nigerian households.

And God forbid you say you work in “the cloud.”
They’ll ask if rain affects it.

The emotional damage

I once tried teaching my mum how to use her new Android.
We were fine for five minutes until I said, “Okay, just tap it.”
She tapped.
Nothing happened.
She tapped harder.
Still nothing.
Then she said,

“This phone doesn’t respect me.”

At that point, I just surrendered.
There’s no DevOps tool for patience.

Acceptance (and back pain)

Now I’ve stopped fighting it.
I keep a small USB stick with drivers, antivirus, and moral support.
Every visit home, I do my “maintenance round” like a travelling sysadmin.

The truth is, it’s love, disguised as tech support.
They don’t trust the world to fix their stuff,
but they trust you.
And that’s kind of sweet… until the next call.