Technology is Everwhere

Frank’s Essay – Confessions of a Dinosaur

I am surrounded by electronic innovations that are supposed to make my life easier. People use their cell phones to check the weather, take pictures, and get directions to the nearest Starbucks – if you know how to use them.

My wife got the latest super powered I-phone and tried to teach me how to use it. I soon discovered I was technologically incapable. When my car broke down, and I couldn’t find a phone booth, I relented and bought the simplest flip phone available. I spent two hours with the cute salesperson trying to master the art of making a phone call on my new device. A few days later, I went to my doctor’s appointment and was told the date and time had been changed. “Didn’t you get my voicemail?” Not only didn’t I know how to operate my phone, I couldn’t even speak the language. The doctor’s cute receptionist showed me how to dial *86 to retrieve my messages. Then my phone demanded a password. I didn’t know I needed one to check for changes in doctor’s appointments. So, I went back to the cute salesperson in the phone store and was told that passwords were for my own protection. I still wonder why anyone would want to hack into my lab results.

I already have too many passwords. I understand the need to protect against unwanted access to my overdrawn checkbook, but I question the need for some of the others. I graduated from a typewriter to a computer a few years ago when my editor demanded correspondence by e-mail. Of course, I needed a password for that. Someone might accidently read one of my columns. I also need passwords to place an order with Amazon, Cabela’s, The Guitar Store, Walmart, etc. I keep my secret codes on a series of 3X5 cards tapped to the back of my computer. I thought I had everything covered until our parakeet died. No longer needing a “real” paper to line the cage, my wife signed us up for the online version. For the first time in my life, I needed a password to read the paper. I called the customer service number and was connected to a computer. None of the options offered were applicable, “To pay your bill electronically press one.” So, I stayed on the line and was told I had made an incorrect entry. I didn’t know a computer-generated voice could be surly. The last time I heard that tone of voice, I was eight years old, and my big sister caught me reading her diary.

Technology is attacking me everywhere. I usually shop in our local market, but I found myself in a big city supermarket last week. When I was ready to check out, there were two lines. One had eight or ten automatic, self-service teller machines. The other, much longer line terminated at one very busy human cashier. Customers seemed to sort themselves out by age. Younger ones using the robotic lines while older folks, like myself, seemed to favor a real live sales clerk. I was afraid to use the unmanned line because I might push the wrong button and be bawled out by a surly computer-generated voice telling me to go to the other line.

I admit to being a dinosaur, but still wonder if a supercharged, miniature, voice activated I-watch might simplify my life.

Frank Watson is a retired Air Force colonel and long-time resident of Eastern Washington. He has been a free-lance columnist for over 20 years.