The Modern Luddite
Every day I seem to discover that I am falling further and further behind. The thing is I wasn't always this way. I used to be the guy that was always on the cutting edge. People came to me for tech advice. Patrick, what should I buy? How do I fix this, what do I do about that? Somewhere along the wandering path our existence the modern world passed me by. It is difficult to put my finger on the exact moment but I suspect it occurred somewhere around the advent of cell phones. I was okay when they were simple bricks but as the networks and functions became more complex my mind started to let go.
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It is hard to understand why. I mean function has actually become more simple. I was the guy who sat with my DOS PC trying to reconfigure the RAM to allow me to play some game that had unique requirements. I confronted the scary DOS prompt and at times won and mostly failed.
People still come to me from time to time to solve a computer issue but I usually try to feign ignorance. It used to be mostly an act but anymore it is really quite valid, honestly I don't have much of a clue. Reboot... is about all I know to say. If that fails pray.
Everything seems to confound me more. I have fallen back into the realm of Apple because at least I understand most things. Still the latest Itunes update or Facebook change leaves me dumbfounded. I still really don't get Twitter. Google Earth always leaves me with my mouth open, drooling, barely able to comprehend how a company is systematically photographing everything in the world.
The answer like everything in life seems to be an urge to retreat. To curl up in a ball and tuck my head away. I would gladly surrender my cell phone. They gave me one at work that I still don't know how to use. I was in a very tense meeting one day with a defendant, translator, attorney and federal agent when my phone started ringing at high volume. Honestly at first I didn't even know it was mine. I looked around the room wondering who the idiot was before discovering the sound was coming from my own bag. I pulled it out as if it was a bomb and in desperation tossed it to a task force officer. "Can you turn it off? Make it stop?" I pleaded.
Despite my faltering technological reality there are still times when I realize I do have a leg up. One of these times was yesterday when I received six calls on my office line from an elderly black woman. Three of them were from the day before when she left no message, only the sound of babies crying in the background
"This is Patrick." I answered as I always do.
"Hi." She answered.
"Hi." I said, wondering who I was speaking with.
"Patrick I have been calling you but I want to speak to my daughter. Why do you keep answering?"
"Because this is my number. I am sorry, I don't know your daughter." I tried to be kind.
"No it can't be your number, this is for my daughter. Something is wrong."
"I can assure you ma'm this is my office, it is not your daughter." I tried to reassure her with the patience of a person talking to a jumper on a ledge.
"But it is in my phone. I push the button and you answer." She was insistent. The kind of insistence conveyed by a person wearing a tin foil hat and knowing the government is watching. "It's a button, its in my phone."
"You are going to have to change the number." I told her. "Maybe you can call someone that knows your daughter." Momentarily she seemed to consider it before answering.
"Okay, but it is strange because this is her number." I could almost perceive the gears in her mind turning. How could she call her daughter when this was her daughter. We hung up.
Moments later, the phone rang again. I reached for it before stopping myself. "No, don't do it." I mumbled before standing up and fleeing to the safety of our bathroom.
.jpg)
It is hard to understand why. I mean function has actually become more simple. I was the guy who sat with my DOS PC trying to reconfigure the RAM to allow me to play some game that had unique requirements. I confronted the scary DOS prompt and at times won and mostly failed. People still come to me from time to time to solve a computer issue but I usually try to feign ignorance. It used to be mostly an act but anymore it is really quite valid, honestly I don't have much of a clue. Reboot... is about all I know to say. If that fails pray.
Everything seems to confound me more. I have fallen back into the realm of Apple because at least I understand most things. Still the latest Itunes update or Facebook change leaves me dumbfounded. I still really don't get Twitter. Google Earth always leaves me with my mouth open, drooling, barely able to comprehend how a company is systematically photographing everything in the world.
The answer like everything in life seems to be an urge to retreat. To curl up in a ball and tuck my head away. I would gladly surrender my cell phone. They gave me one at work that I still don't know how to use. I was in a very tense meeting one day with a defendant, translator, attorney and federal agent when my phone started ringing at high volume. Honestly at first I didn't even know it was mine. I looked around the room wondering who the idiot was before discovering the sound was coming from my own bag. I pulled it out as if it was a bomb and in desperation tossed it to a task force officer. "Can you turn it off? Make it stop?" I pleaded.
Despite my faltering technological reality there are still times when I realize I do have a leg up. One of these times was yesterday when I received six calls on my office line from an elderly black woman. Three of them were from the day before when she left no message, only the sound of babies crying in the background
"This is Patrick." I answered as I always do.
"Hi." She answered.
"Hi." I said, wondering who I was speaking with.
"Patrick I have been calling you but I want to speak to my daughter. Why do you keep answering?"
"Because this is my number. I am sorry, I don't know your daughter." I tried to be kind.
"No it can't be your number, this is for my daughter. Something is wrong."
"I can assure you ma'm this is my office, it is not your daughter." I tried to reassure her with the patience of a person talking to a jumper on a ledge.
"But it is in my phone. I push the button and you answer." She was insistent. The kind of insistence conveyed by a person wearing a tin foil hat and knowing the government is watching. "It's a button, its in my phone."
"You are going to have to change the number." I told her. "Maybe you can call someone that knows your daughter." Momentarily she seemed to consider it before answering.
"Okay, but it is strange because this is her number." I could almost perceive the gears in her mind turning. How could she call her daughter when this was her daughter. We hung up.
Moments later, the phone rang again. I reached for it before stopping myself. "No, don't do it." I mumbled before standing up and fleeing to the safety of our bathroom.
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