Inventions and the human imagination have enabled us to do many new and amazing things, but I think perhaps technology has jumped the shark.
I made it through college (as a writing major mind you) with a manual typewriter. Went from that, giddily, to one that typed like a player piano, to a desktop computer, to a laptop, to (if I could figure it out) a way to create and send documents on my cell phone.
My brother and sister and I grew up watching a black-and-white Zenith with about 4 channels and a National Anthem end to the programming day. Tonight I can watch a gazillion programs on a big ol’ color TV, a VCR, a DVR, a DVD, or (if I could figure it out) my cell phone.
I once had thee coolest electric-blue AM radio shaped like a donut. Later I had a gargantuan glass-fronted cabinet that stored a turntable, receiver, and my albums. Then cassette player, double cassette player, CD player, 5-disk CD player. Now it’s a recordable CD drive and itunes, plus (if I could figure it out) a way to listen to my tunes on my cell phone.
Yes, a cell phone is a huge improvement over the wall-bound rotary dial, and it has been a godsend during a couple of emergency situations—like being stranded at night with a flat tire or getting separated from my friends at a Jimmy Buffett concert. But there was a time when you never heard a phone ring in a theater, in the grocery store, or (not making this up) at a funeral. There was a time, not so very long ago, when you could actually get away from it all because the hotel didn’t have cell service or internet. There was a time when you never had to listen carefully to the options for pressing 1, 2, 3, 4, star, or pound.
Yesterday I pushed a bunch of those buttons to activate my new ATM card, and the recording told me I had to hold the line to confirm something (sounded official). And . . . ah, ohhhh . . . I had to dodge the advances of a zealous, rude, pitbull of a telemarketer—without the hang-up option—before being “approved” to have access to my own money.
I will concede that, despite a real nostalgia for gas station attendants who would saunter up to the driver’s side window and chat pleasantly, wash the windshield, put air in the tires, and check the oil, there are times when being able to pump the gas myself when rolling home on fumes at midnight has had its advantages. Today at lunchtime, before they would actually allow gasoline to flow, I had to answer 2,735 questions to (apparently) explain why I was standing in a gas station freezing my ass off while parked next to a gas pump with my gas cap off.
Technology has not made our lives easier. It has given new ideas to the Evil Bastards. And they learn faster than my middle-age brain.
In high school, I learned to type in a class that lasted an entire semester. When desktop computers were new, I attended a two-day training seminar to learn WordPerfect. These days, with absolutely no formal training, I can’t get through my day without Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Photoshop, Diskus, InDesign, iCalendar, iMovie, three different voicemail systems, three different email programs, two different IM programs, a bit of Illustrator, a CRM system, and two different web/CMS systems. And, oh yeah, the programs to manage my blog, my facebook page, and my Twitter tweets.
As technology has made it possible to accomplish more and more tasks more and more quickly, we have, quite simply, become accustomed to having more tasks on the to-do list, doing more things ourselves, providing more information, reading more manuals . . . and expanding our vocabulary to include phrases like stress headache, hyper-tension, and Why does it say paper jam when there is no paper jam?
Pick a technological advancement in your lifetime. Tell me why you love it and/or hate it.
January 19, 2010 at 2:25 pm
It’s January 17, and I have yet to make the great back-breaking trek of a thousand steps, eight steps at a time, to put the boxes of Christmas decorations back into the attic. The lights; the Santas; the ornaments; the wrapping paper, tags, and ribbon; the garland; the wreath; the stockings. It is all bubble-wrapped, gum-banded, tissue-papered, de-tangled, packed in boxes, and . . . stacked up in my living room. It sits there, only about 8 feet (as the crow flies) from where it should be.
I was a sentimental child. And I could, if I chose to, make a pretty convincing argument that these boxes remain un-put-away because I hate to see Christmas go. And you’d believe me. And maybe even think it quirky or sweet. And you’d look past the pile of boxes.
However. As your eyes looked past that pile of boxes, they’d alight on the un-done laundry, the dishes piled in the sink, the un-made bed, and the precarious stack of mail, likely including soon-to-be-overdue bills.
I have online banking and I’m late when I used to write out checks and lick stamps and have every bill sent on time. I used to be organized. I used to do my nails. I used to exercise regularly. I used to polish my shoes. I used to get my oil changed every 3,000 miles. I used to wash, wax, and vacuum my car–and my house–on a weekly basis. I used to make it into work on time with makeup on, my hair done, and a good cup of coffee in hand. I used to have a calendar. I used to keep track of people’s Birthdays. Hell, I used to iron! I used to feel, at least on an occasional basis, caught up.
I tell you true, there was a time when I was a Type-A person, but my average slipped to a B sometime in the ’90s. And I would guess that someone somewhere is about to mail my Mom a note telling her I’m failing Adulthood.
It’s Sunday night. The cupboard is bare, and dinner isn’t made. While writing this, I realized I have already missed three 2010 Birthdays. And it’s garbage night.
It’s January 17, and my Christmas decorations aren’t put away. I guess I’m just way too sentimental.
January 17, 2010 at 1:28 pm
Never Tailgate is a gift book with car photos and tips for new drivers. Dare to be Happy is a gift book with advice about life (and doodles). Both are available on amazon.
Life Preservers 
Ah Technology
Inventions and the human imagination have enabled us to do many new and amazing things, but I think perhaps technology has jumped the shark.
I made it through college (as a writing major mind you) with a manual typewriter. Went from that, giddily, to one that typed like a player piano, to a desktop computer, to a laptop, to (if I could figure it out) a way to create and send documents on my cell phone.
My brother and sister and I grew up watching a black-and-white Zenith with about 4 channels and a National Anthem end to the programming day. Tonight I can watch a gazillion programs on a big ol’ color TV, a VCR, a DVR, a DVD, or (if I could figure it out) my cell phone.
I once had thee coolest electric-blue AM radio shaped like a donut. Later I had a gargantuan glass-fronted cabinet that stored a turntable, receiver, and my albums. Then cassette player, double cassette player, CD player, 5-disk CD player. Now it’s a recordable CD drive and itunes, plus (if I could figure it out) a way to listen to my tunes on my cell phone.
Yes, a cell phone is a huge improvement over the wall-bound rotary dial, and it has been a godsend during a couple of emergency situations—like being stranded at night with a flat tire or getting separated from my friends at a Jimmy Buffett concert. But there was a time when you never heard a phone ring in a theater, in the grocery store, or (not making this up) at a funeral. There was a time, not so very long ago, when you could actually get away from it all because the hotel didn’t have cell service or internet. There was a time when you never had to listen carefully to the options for pressing 1, 2, 3, 4, star, or pound.
Yesterday I pushed a bunch of those buttons to activate my new ATM card, and the recording told me I had to hold the line to confirm something (sounded official). And . . . ah, ohhhh . . . I had to dodge the advances of a zealous, rude, pitbull of a telemarketer—without the hang-up option—before being “approved” to have access to my own money.
I will concede that, despite a real nostalgia for gas station attendants who would saunter up to the driver’s side window and chat pleasantly, wash the windshield, put air in the tires, and check the oil, there are times when being able to pump the gas myself when rolling home on fumes at midnight has had its advantages. Today at lunchtime, before they would actually allow gasoline to flow, I had to answer 2,735 questions to (apparently) explain why I was standing in a gas station freezing my ass off while parked next to a gas pump with my gas cap off.
Technology has not made our lives easier. It has given new ideas to the Evil Bastards. And they learn faster than my middle-age brain.
In high school, I learned to type in a class that lasted an entire semester. When desktop computers were new, I attended a two-day training seminar to learn WordPerfect. These days, with absolutely no formal training, I can’t get through my day without Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Photoshop, Diskus, InDesign, iCalendar, iMovie, three different voicemail systems, three different email programs, two different IM programs, a bit of Illustrator, a CRM system, and two different web/CMS systems. And, oh yeah, the programs to manage my blog, my facebook page, and my Twitter tweets.
As technology has made it possible to accomplish more and more tasks more and more quickly, we have, quite simply, become accustomed to having more tasks on the to-do list, doing more things ourselves, providing more information, reading more manuals . . . and expanding our vocabulary to include phrases like stress headache, hyper-tension, and Why does it say paper jam when there is no paper jam?
Pick a technological advancement in your lifetime. Tell me why you love it and/or hate it.
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January 19, 2010 at 2:25 pm 2 comments