Don’t Get Me Started

By Connie Wolf My last column was a rant about my aversion to high tech restrooms. Motion sensors for toilets, sinks and towel dispensers make me crazy. It doesn’t stop there; don’t get me started on the subject of my new cell phone.

Please understand I appreciate the cell phone. It gives me a great sense of security to know I can call home, the automobile club, or in the worse case scenario, dial 911 whenever or wherever I may need it. In the twenty first century we don’t need to look for a phone booth, fumble with change or even venture out of our car to get help. This is a good thing and for this I am thankful. The problem is my shiny new metallic, glow-in-the dark cell phone befuddles me.

My children send me pictures on my phone with cryptic text messages. I don’t know how to save the pictures or answer the messages; I’d much rather they would just drop by for a visit. My inability to master this device is not from lack of effort, I once sent a two line text message to my daughter or at least I thought I did. I played hunt and peck on the teeny tiny keyboard for twenty minutes then pushed an itty-bitty button and poof it disappeared. Apparently it was the wrong itty-bitty button; I asked her if she ever got it, she didn’t. It’s just gone. Is it now drifting in cyberspace or hidden in my phone? Who knows, certainly not me.

I once tried taking a picture with my phone; my husband tells me that I have the latest in electronic flash equipment right there in my cell phone so I tried it. Unfortunately, I was holding it backwards (who knew?) and I took a flash photo of my eye. It was frightening, both the picture and the effect on my eye. I won’t be doing that again!

Jon even bought me a blue tooth for the phone assuring me that I could now drive and talk hands free. I’d be safe and legal. Isn’t that technology at its finest? I wore it while running some errands on the day he brought it home. The tiny wireless contraption fell out of my ear; I never even missed it. It could have happened in the grocery store or in the parking lot or maybe at the gas station, I never even talked on the thing, not once, it happened that fast. “Surely you felt it fall out”, queried my husband in obvious exasperation. “No” I answered “and don’t even think about buying me another one”.

The cell phone is not the only example of the electronic confusion that terrorizes my home. We have a DVR/cable TV remote control that looks like it could be a control panel for NASA, I think if I push the right combination of buttons, I could bring space lab home. In our closet there is a shelf with an electrical outlet and a power strip. This is where we recharge all of our technological wonders. There is a charging cord for the digital camera, two cell phones, two MP3 players, an IPod and Jon’s e-reader. I have no clue as to which cord goes to which device or what hole, slot, or port you plug it into. When I look at that shelf, I am so tempted to just clear it all off and store my shoes and purses there. Of course, in the name of marital harmony, I wouldn’t really consider it. Not seriously. Our electronic docking station is here to stay.

Stewart Brand, the editor of the Whole Earth Catalog said it best, “Once a new technology rolls over you, if you're not part of the steamroller, you're part of the road.” I guess we know what part I am.