**Act I: The Overconfidence** You sit down, crack your knuckles, and open the software with the smug confidence of someone who’s fixed their mom’s Wi-Fi once and now believes they're a tech god. > “Who reads manuals?” you scoff, clicking around like a caffeinated squirrel. > “I’m sure it’s intuitive.” Five minutes in, you've opened 17 tabs, activated *developer mode*, and somehow changed the interface language to ancient Sumerian. The software asks if you want to enable "quantum interlacing." You click **Yes**, because, hey, quantum sounds cool. Your cursor starts lagging. A printer in another room turns on. Your dog barks at the wall. --- **Act II: The Panic** Now you're sweating. A mysterious pop-up appears: > **"Warning: Action will overwrite the space-time continuum. Proceed?"** You frantically try to close the window, but now it’s fullscreen and blaring royalty-free techno music. The volume slider doesn’t work. You try hitting *Escape*, *Ctrl+Z*, *Alt+F4*, and even *Ctrl+Alt+Pray*, but nothing happens. The program opens your webcam and winks at you. You unplug the computer. It doesn’t turn off. --- **Act III: The Humble Return** Defeated, you Google the manual. The first line reads: > *"To get started, just click 'Start'. That’s it."* You stare blankly at the screen as your soul leaves your body. Now you're a changed person. You read manuals. You highlight. You take notes. You refer friends to the FAQ page like it’s the Bible. You've become what you once mocked. But deep down, you know: **The software didn’t beat you.** It *educated* you… with pain, confusion, and a haunted printer.