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In these days of technology gone wild there are always going to be those moments when we all get confused. Unless you are Steven Hawking or a member of the “Geek Squad” you will experience that inevitable learning curve when faced with a new piece of equipment.
Back when VCR’s were the new kid on the block there were tons of people who just didn’t get it. For me, I view the VCR as patient zero in the current technology plague. It was the first piece of consumer-based equipment that baffled some of its owners from the time it came out until the birth of the DVD.
The programming of the VCR was the key to the entire equation, but for most members of the older generation it was mission impossible. You might as well have been asking them to fly the space shuttle. In my dad’s case, he would have stood a better chance with the space shuttle, being a pilot, than he did with programming and using the timer on his VCR. His VCR was his primary nemesis for a decade, his Professor Moriarty.
For me, my archenemy has always been the cell phone. For some bizarre reason it has become my Achilles heel and I just don’t seem to be able to shake it. Just as my dad struggled with his demon VCR, I sit there staring in frustration at this little electronic gremlin in my hand, wanting at times to throw it to the ground in frustration.
What has brought this weakness of mine to the forefront is the fact that our commitment with our cell phone provider came to an end last week. What that means, of course, is that it was time to change. As my wife Stacey pointed out, cell phone batteries have a life span of approximately 2 years. Which conveniently coincides with most current cell phone programs.
This, of course, means that you can do one of two things when your two-year anniversary rolls around. You can keep your existing cell phone and buy a new battery or you can opt for one of the multitude of deals offered by the phone companies. When I say deals what that means is free upgraded phones for everyone in your plan.
With the word “free” really appealing to Stacey and the word “upgraded” really appealing to my kids, Rachel and Alex, I think you can guess which option we went with. For me the word that is missing in that description is “change” and I hate change. Being as apocalyptic as I am about cell phones it might as well be saying, “here comes the kiss of death” for the next two years. I mean I was just getting fairly familiar with the last one, now I have to start all over with a new upgraded version, oh just shoot me now.
Now before all of you who don’t have a problem with your phones start saying, “Bill, what is your problem? Using a cell phone is the easiest thing in the world.” Well, I really can’t explain it. It is just some sort of mental block I have when it comes to using certain applications.
Little things like, oh I don’t know, like retrieving my messages. I have been shown numerous times how to do it, but I just can’t master it. I still think it was my phone, although that statement drew nothing but belly laughs from all of the members of my family, which only compounded my pain.
I couldn’t stop the inevitable, so after much discussion by the other members of the group, a new implement of torture was ordered for me. I found it apropos that my new nemesis was a lovely shade of blood red. I viewed it as a portent of things to come.
And it was coming fast, too fast for me. Within three days of its ordering, the new object of my fear and loathing arrived via Fed Ex. As far as I was concerned sending it by pony express would have been just fine, but I guess that would be postponing the inevitable. It was here and it was time for me to greet the reaper.
Once everyone got home it was like feeding time at the zoo or free lobster samples being given out at Costco. It was a good thing I had plugged those suckers in to charge up when they got there, otherwise there would have been a cloud of doom hovering over the house while the family had to wait to dive in. Thank god that charging the cell phone is one of the few things in my repertoire that I had mastered through the years.
Once the phones were activated, the phone savvy of the house, read everyone but me, were off to the races. After the initial giddiness over the enhanced quality of the photographs and the new features that could be manipulated and played with, everyone dispersed into different rooms to get down to the serious stuff.
A hush fell over the house with the exception of the electronic beeps of the phones being programmed with phone numbers and other vital information. I, on the other hand, sat there staring at the red gremlin like a chimp that had just been handed a palm pilot and was told to program it. I really know how the chimps must feel. There were moments when I truly felt like chewing on the phone to see if that would do anything.
What of course adds insult to injury is the fact that my kids are so adept at everything involved with the phone that neither one needed to even pick up the owner’s manual. I, on the other hand, had to start on page one and slowly work my way through the most elementary of tasks.
The group, feeling pity on the old man, would take a break occasionally to come check on me and help me along a bit. They would try to give me brief tutorials in hopes that I would finally get it, obviously looking two years down the line. As soon as they left the scene of the disaster, feeling that they had done some good, I would try to retrace the steps of the path that they had taken me down. It became painfully clear that the lesson hadn’t stuck. So back to the book I went, like it was going help. Not.
As I did with the last variations of my nemesis, I just went with the basics. As long as I could dial out and receive calls I would be fine. I might still be a Neanderthal, walking hunched over, while the rest of the family is walking upright, but at least I would be able to communicate, which is what the little demon is all about, right?
Just don’t ask me to communicate via text messaging. I don’t understand it, nor do I want to. The whole concept is beyond me, I mean if you have the phone in your hand just call the person. From what I have witnessed so far it is primarily a young person’s medium. Well that, and for those people who feel the need to spend a dollar a message to vote on American Idol or enter the money giveaway contest on Deal or No Deal. Which again I don’t understand. Considering with American Idol you can vote for free by phone and with Deal or No Deal, you can enter for free over the computer.
As far as the young generation goes, I think it is bordering on addiction. We have tried to curtail the amount of texting that goes on between Alex and his girlfriend Elisabeth, but it is becoming increasingly clear that we might as well be asking them to stop breathing. The latter could become an option if they don’t knock it off. As if they don’t spend enough time on the phone as it is. I guess it is just part of the package of things that escape me in this cell phone driven world.
So if you see me staring blankly at my phone trying to retrieve a message or figure out why I just inadvertently hung up on someone mid conversation, just keep your distance. You won’t be doing either one of us a favor by trying to help me out. We have all seen in the news what an aggravated chimp is capable of.
By the same token, if you stumble across a smashed blood red phone in the street and see my picture as a screensaver, don’t bother trying to return it. It was just meant to be.
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