I am not a huge fan of technology. Don't get me wrong. I love air-conditioning, modern healthcare, and can openers. More specifically, I am not a big fan of computer type technology. Some people are techno-phobes. A friend described me as a techno-tard.
During a recent jury trial, while trying to get a laptop to play a digitally recorded piece of evidence, in frustration, I turned to the jury and declared that I was thinking about converting to Amish.
I am not a big fan of cell phones either. I am beginning to think that my secretary is unable to drive without something stuck to her ear. On the other hand, I haven't yet discovered what is so important that it can't wait until you get home or to the office to make a telephone call.
Don't get me started on texting. I can't imagine replacing voice communication with the modern equivalent of Morris Code.
Then there is "sexting." Nothing like sinning, or even committing a crime, with a guaranteed digital paper trail. Incidentally, Jr. or Missy could become felons on a registry if they receive on their phone pictures of their under age friends body parts. (Yep, that's kiddy porn.)
Strangely, it is now common for people to talk or text while in the bathroom. Is there no place left for seclusion. Is nothing sacred? Apparently, what used to be the "think tank" has now become the "I-Throne."
She Who Must be Obeyed makes me have a cell phone. I guess I need a digital leash. Due in no small part to my disdain for it, I frequently misplace my phone. Not long ago, I must have really been disdainful as I lost it but well.
While I was quite content to not have something blaring for my attention at random intervals, my beloved Yvette was not happy. I was eligible for an upgraded phone more than a year ago and apparently it was now time I took advantage of it.
I went to the local Verizon store and explained my predicament. I told them that the phone I had was waterproof and semi-indestructible. That is what I wanted.
"Ah," the sales lady said, "we have just the thing for you." The first object brought to me was totally unacceptable. It didn't even have any buttons on it. I understand how a rotary dial works and how buttons work. George Jetson may know how to talk into a mini television screen, but I don't.
It didn't take long for this sales lady to grow weary with me and I was passed along to the "newbie." Fortunately he was more patient.
We discovered that my "old" phone no longer exists. We did, however, figure out what the next generation of that model was. It was available on line, not in the store. Great.
I told the salesman that my next "upgrade" was going to be to a Jitterbug; the senior friendly phone with large buttons that only makes and receives calls. He laughed.
He asked me if I wanted to buy a charger for my upgraded telephone. Now I am no expert, but phone chargers seem to me to be the same kind of scam that ink cartridges are to printers. I asked, "doesn't it use the same charger?" After all, it is the next generation of the phone I lost. "No," he said. As he started to tell me the difference, a profanity escaped from my lips. He had a large belly laugh.
I told him that I have been thinking about going Amish. He laughed aging. When he was done with his laugh he said, "You know, the Amish have problems too." I replied, "Yah, but not at mind bending 4G speeds." He laughed again.