Happily Ever After - Technology

by Valerie Nusbaum This morning, I sat down at the computer to start drafting my column. It was very early and my mind was fresh—as fresh as it ever is, I mean. Thoughts were swirling through my brain about spring being just around the corner, with robins heralding its coming and gardeners preparing for their planting season. I was thinking about St. Patrick’s Day and all the celebrations: the wearing of green, corned beef, cabbage, and green beer. I was planning to write an appropriately seasonal column. I then turned on the computer, waited for it to boot up, and logged on. My main system is several years old, and it seems—like me—to get slower and slower with age. I finally got my page formatted and then my computer locked me out. There was a big red alert, telling me that I had a virus and that I needed to call the included phone number to find out how to fix it. Sure. I’ll do that. And I’ll buy some swamp land in Florida while I’m at it.  These messages have been coming to me a lot lately, and both Randy and I have done all we can to clean up the computer, but we’ve decided that it’s beyond our capabilities.  We’re calling in the geeks. Professional ones. In the meantime, though, there was a column to be written, so I logged out and shut down and re-booted.  I decided to check my e-mail before I started writing again. The computer told me that I needed to switch users, but it waited to do that until I had written a lengthy response to my cousin, Pat. I lost the whole message and was too frustrated to start over, so I sent her a quick note and told her I’d call her later. I’ve learned to save anything and everything that I write, which takes even more time. Isn’t technology supposed to make our lives easier? Aren’t we supposed to be able to take care of things with just the touch of a button? All of a sudden, I lost my internet connection, so I said a bad word and went back to work on my column. At that point, I would have cheerfully thrown the whole kit and caboodle out the second floor window of my office, but I know the cost of a new computer, and I imagine I’ll have the same problems with another set-up.  Am I the only one who finds dealing with computers not as much fun as Bill Gates tells us it should be? I’d do a lot more of my work on my tablet or my phone if I could. Both of those devices work pretty well most of the time; however, I have poor eyesight and arthritis in my hands. It’s not easy for me to type on anything but a full-size keyboard. I make an awful lot of mistakes when I try to text, but I’m usually unaware of it since I can’t read that small screen. Poor Randy is my go-to-guy whenever I have a technological issue. I know I must drive him crazy. He’s a good sport and he does what he can. Some days I wish we had a fifth-grader living with us. Kids and young people seem to catch on quickly to all the new techno-gadgets. These days, I not only feel old, I feel stupid, too. How about all the self-checkouts that have popped up in grocery and other stores? I get hung up with those, too. The other day, the darned thing told me to move my items from the bagging area. Then it told me to put them back. Then it told me to call an attendant.  I think it was just messing with me. You know there’s a room with a monitor and a microphone, and some guy is sitting in there toying with us. Those self-checkouts are supposed to help us get out of the stores more quickly. Well, that’s only because there’s just one open checkout lane in the whole store with a human attendant, and there are fourteen people waiting in that line. Fourteen techno-dummies like me. I won’t even write about the automated telephone systems. If I talk about that, I’ll only raise my blood pressure and upset myself.  So many hours of my life have been spent on hold, while I press numbers to navigate those systems—hours that I’ll never get back. Even our vehicles have computers now. I get into Randy’s truck and think I’m in the cockpit of an airplane. There are so many lights and buttons. If you ask Randy for his thoughts on technology, he’ll tell you that he’s convinced that we’re being watched at every turn, and even in our own homes. You know your voice-controlled devices are always listening to you, don’t you? Randy also believes that technology is working toward eliminating more and more jobs for us humans. He tried explaining that to one of the self-checkout attendants at the grocery store, but she told him to move his items from the bagging area. Or maybe that was the machine talking.