Modern Technology: Tougher Than You Think

It was one of those scatterbrained Sundays. Frantically running about in an attempt to do all the things I meant to do on a long weekend, but never actually got around to you know, doing. Son 2™ wanted to go driving. Learner's permits are hell on gas, especially with all the new "Must have x amount of hours driving" laws. So we drove around. I tried not to watch the gas gauge too much, or notice that gas prices dropped 4 cents since I filled up on Saturday. Finished with aimless driving, I came in the house and decided to add my third color layer on my woodblock print, turn on the sprinklers, set some stuff to downloading on my laptop, and hey, I could throw a load of clothes in, too. Multitasking at its best!

I blame the newly acquired Wii. Yes, we are now a 3 system family - XBox, Playstation 3, and Wii. Two of the three I lucked into on deals. Nothing shady, just being in the right place at the right time. (Doesn't seem to work with lottery tickets, however....)

After finishing a print run with color 3, Son 2™ convinced me I needed to learn how to play Wii sports. So I threw more clothes in the washer, and commenced learning how not to throw my shoulder out of its socket when swinging my arms wildly about. My coordination level is iffy at best, but I didn't break anything, or punch the dog, so I think I did okay.

I decided to throw my clothes in the dryer before working on a web page. As I'm pulling them out and tossing them in the dryer, I hear this suspicious metal clink in the washer tub. It wasn't a money clink. This was tinnier. My brain immediately went into berate mode. "You forgot to empty your pockets. It's probably your name tag from work. Now you'll be Constan or something ..." No, I knew my name tag was magnetically adhered to my desk at work. I remember doing that. Brain started shooting off fireworks, or burning synapses or something as I rummaged through soggy underwear in search of the clinky object.

Brain - "I know what it is, I know what it is, you are going to be Sooooooooo pissed..."
Me - "Shut up! It can't be that bad."
Brain - "Ha!"
Me, as I spy the object in the bowels of the washer - "Oh, shit!!!" - Profanity being most definitely called for.

My jump drive.

The one I left in my pants pocket when I came home from work Thursday and changed out of my 'pretend I'm fashionable' clothes.

I pulled it out, and unsnapped the cap. I tried to look inside, but shiny silver metal looks the same wet or dry. I ran upstairs, and grabbed the blow dryer, and applied cool heat to its dark insides.

Me - "That cap was snapped on really tight. Maybe it will be okay."
Brain - "Ha! Say goodbye to the last chapter of that novel. Should have transfered it to the laptop right away, like I told you to."
Me - "Nobody likes a smug brain. Be quiet or I'll reduce your caffeine intake."
Brain - "?!?"

So I popped the drive into a USB slot on the laptop. With a little "Bing!", the interface came up and asked me what I wanted to do. Suspicious, I clicked on the drive. All my files came up. Still in a state of disbelief, I opened a few at random. The jump drive still worked. I transfered everything to my external hard drive as fast as my brainless fingers could command.

Me - "I can't believe it."
Brain, sulking - "You never listen to me."
Me - "Hooray for old, 256mb jump drives with snap-on caps."
Brain - "Let's go play Wii Bowling."

I owe the technology gods, big time. Maybe I'll sacrifice a few CD's their way. The knitting gods, however, will be heartily displeased with me. In the same load that I found the jump drive in, was a pair of hand knit wool socks. I threw them in the dryer in my quest to find the metallic clinky object. My socks are now really, really dry. Luckily, they don't look too shrinky. I can still put them on my feet. Thank you, Knitting Goddess, for superwash wool. Savior of ADD laundry-idjits everywhere.

Cell Phone Follies Revisited

I previously posted about my search for a new cell phone. I thought I had plenty of time to research, review, and try out different phones before I decided.

My old phone felt I was procrastinating, and in a bid to make me hurry, shed its little connector plate, where you plug in to charge the phone. I stuffed it back in place. Jury rigging bought me a week, in which I glanced at a few phones on the Net, and thought about going to my local Phone Store. Thursday night my jury rigging no longer worked, and I was faced with an interesting dilemma. Could I research and acquire a phone before 3:00pm Friday, when the kids would begin their litany of calls, complaints, and demands? For an added challenge, I was to spend early Friday morning in a meeting, and the rest of the day cleaning out my office... no, I'm not fired, the building owners decided to finally get new carpet installed. Finally. For the past 8 years I've had Bronco orange carpet in my office. And it went so well with my blue chairs... ah well.

I stole a few minutes while packing to jump on the Internet, see what my Phone Service Provider offered, and research a few phones I thought I'd like. Since I had flex time over lunch, courtesy of my 'O-Dark-Thirty drive across the state to learn about oil rigs training', I ran up to the Phone Store. At my early meeting I played with my boss' Treo, my supervisor's Q, and while I liked them, they had far more features than even I'd ever use. Not to mention they felt like they were the size of a cheese sandwich. I wandered through the phone store, playing with cells, until I reached one with a touch screen and slide out keypad. I picked it up, it came to life and a koi swam around the screen and hid under leaves.

I think my reasoning went something like this.. "This is cool. -But you'll get fingerprints all over it.- They wipe off... this is cool, look, touch, touch, touch, feature, feature, feature... don't have to change my cell plan... hey, look, an MP3 player. -But I have an iPod.- So, this is cool! Look, a 2mp camera. -But I have a digital camera.- But you can have everything in one for those days you forget your geek paraphernalia. -True...- It's also got Bluetooth and GPS capabilities. -But it's a tad pricey...- Hey, they're giving me a deal to renew. And it's cool..." Then the deciding thought. "Huh. This is the closest I'll ever get to an iPhone..."

I came, I played, I bought my LG Glimmer, I still had time for lunch. And my kids are jealous.

Perfect.

I like toys, what can I say? *g*

Cell Phone Follies

It's come down to this. I really should get a new cell phone. Mine is going on four years old, an antique in the technology world. Up to date cell phones can serve as a backup to my iPod, show pictures of who's calling, keep my ever-rotating schedule in line, among other tricks. Another sign it may be time? I went to charge the phone last night, and the little metal plate in the base the charger slides into just fell out. I jury-rigged it to work, but how many more nights can I fiddle with the connection, wrap the cord around my clock radio, and hope for the best? Not too many, I'm thinking.

My kids are gleeful, ecstatic at the idea of their mother having a phone that's more than one step up from a tin can and string. So far they've decided I need a Chocolate, a Razr, a Blackberry…

I mentioned getting an iPhone, and their eyes bugged out. Until I told them, in properly sober tones, that we don't have a service provider up here for an iPhone. "But… but… you could hack it!" youngest child proclaims. "Unlock it."

He overestimates my geekosity. And my willingness to part with $500 for a phone, unless it comes with an espresso machine built around it.

I read the specs on the latest phones and my brain reels. MP3 player, video recording, Bluetooth, camera, web surfing, GPS… Much as I would love to have an iPhone, with a touch screen, I know inevitably I would touch the wrong thing, and end up sending my contact list to Canberra, my pictures to Saskatchewan. Why would I need GPS? I live in Nowhere, Wyoming. I always know where I am. 76 miles from the nearest bathroom. I'd try to find out where I need to meet a client, and the GPS would send me down some dirt road alongside the Powder River, where I'd lose service, and have only the sheep to talk to as I wait for a tow truck I can't reach on my 'No Service in This Area' cell phone, and watch vultures laughing from the fenceposts. If Alltel forces me to eat the emergency MRE's I keep in the trunk, I'm gonna be pissed.

After all, I am, at heart, a klutz. Attempt to take a picture, and suddenly Bon Jovi begins blaring to everyone within a five block radius, I punch buttons, and snap a nifty image of my shoe.

I just want to be able to be able to answer the phone when a child calls (and I get to mediate).

"Mom, can you pick me up at the Rec Center?"

"Why can't your brother pick you up? It's on his way home."

"He won't answer his phone when I call him."

"Okay, hang on…" *put son two on hold and call son one* "Pick up your brother at the Rec Center on your way home."

"Why?"

"Because I said so, not to mention I bought your gas this week."

"Oh. Okay. Tell him to be ready; I'm not waiting for him." *Click, switch teenagers.* "Your brother will pick you up."

"How will I know when he's here? I'm not standing outside waiting for him."

"They have these new things called windows… try looking out one."

"Can't he just text me--?"

An iPhone would be pointless for these types of conversations. So would most phones other than the tin can and string. Of course, I could admit the real reason. Despite my willingness to embrace technology, I'm damn tired of learning new systems. Maybe I am at heart, what Scott Oden calls a Techno-Goober. I just hide it really well. For four years I've plugged my recharger into the little slit at the bottom of my phone. I don't want to play peek-a-boo with a new phone, opening and closing microscopic little doors in an attempt to figure out which tiny opening fits the "Only Works With X Phone" charging cord. I don't want my phone taking it upon itself to go searching the Internet and airwaves for updates to programs I didn't know I had. I don't want the phone telling me to turn left onto Highway 59 to get to my target, when I know damn well making a right then a left is the only sane way to get on that road, through the construction, and to my destination.

The only pictures I have taken on the old phone are of the Corgis (Big surprise), a herd of horses in the pasture, a triple rainbow you can't really see because the phone camera sucks, and of a hailstone the size of my fist. Not exactly Pulitzer Prize material. The kids claim a new phone will be better, easier, faster, fat free. All those high sales things. I can answer multiple calls at one, text quickly, talk more, etc.. I finally found a way to shut them up.

"But… no one ever calls me, except you guys, and your dad. And you know what? I like it that way."

Struck by the horror of someone not wanting to jabber on the phone all day, the oldest mutters, "Social recluse," as he ambles away.

"That's 'Luddite' to you," I remind him.

The youngest blinks a few more times, and finally manages, "Mom, you're so… old," before he wanders off.

"Yeah? Get off my lawn!" I call after him before returning to my study of new cell phones. I've decided wiggling the charger cord and securing it with duct tape will serve me for a while longer. I'll retreat into Techno-gooberdom, and put off making a decision until forced to by the phone gods.

Hey, I just want a phone to work when I turn it on, have good reception, and NOT organize my closest in its spare time. Is that too much to ask?

Medieval Helpdesk

This is for all my friends who got new computers, or DVD players, or both for Christmas. Hey, remember, even our favorite Gutenberg-esque technology was brand spankin' new at one point in time. And before you ask, No, I will NOT fix your computer...

(Diligently scouring YouTube for all manners of weirdness, so You don't have to. No, no need to thank me. Public service is my life.)

Norwegian Helpdesk support back in the day of the middle ages. (With English subtitles) Original taken from the show "Øystein og jeg" on Norwegian Broadcasting (NRK)in 2001.