Defeated by technology

Once upon a time, I taped my records, and listened to my favourite songs on a Walkman.

It was great... as long as you wanted to listen in order, for no more than 90 minutes, stop half way through and had an endless supply of AA batteries.

I used to sit in the pub with my friend Nigel, and talk about how it would be great to have something smaller than a packet of fags that could hold my entire record collection, and play it in any order I wanted. The younger, less bald, me would be startled that even my phone can do that now. And probably that I can’t eat three packets of Pork Scratchings in one night any more.

The problem is, the more clever the gadgets get, with more options available to enhance your enjoyment, the less likely I am to be able to figure out what the hell it is I’m meant to be doing. Eventually, I wind up with whatever it is doing even less that before. At least I can be smug in the knowledge that it could do loads of other things if I wanted it too – and could understand the manual.

Even trains are too clever now. Virgin’s Bendlyleano things have electronic seat reservations, which results in me (and most other commuters) staring at the LED displays with their mouths open, trying to work out if they’re allowed to sit in a seat, before embarking on a game with other passengers reminiscent of those puzzles where you have to slide pieces around to make a picture. The “I think that’s my seat, but that one’s free until Manchester, so if I sit there for now, you can move once we get to Preston. No. I’ve no idea either. You’re right...” game. Less fun than the Leveson Enquiry.

I was recently defeated by a self-service checkout too. I thought it was about time I tried one, but started off with just one item, in case it got too complicated. I managed to scan the barcode (which puts me in the tech-head top 10% of over 40’s), but it went horribly wrong after that, until I found myself gently repeating “I’ve got a pound. I just want to pay” forlornly until the shop sent in an expert to rescue me.

I can turn my new TV on and off, but it took me three years to master the PVR digibox thing, so I do it all through that. All the Nintendo Wii has taught me is that I’m overweight, and very bad at golf. On the plus side, I’ve never had to wear any silly trousers or buy any golf bats. When I first used the weighing thing, I swear it tried to hook up to the internet and dial 999 for me.

I love my MP3 phoneamajig, but I own albums by Mike Oldfield, where all the tracks merge into each other. If only I could figure out how to get it to play them in order. For about 45 minutes. I wish there was something that could do that...

Have a technological weekend.

If you can.

This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in the North West Evening Mail on Friday 19th October 2012. This is the unedited version - you can view the printed/online version here The paper sadly added the word 'Sadly' to the front of my title, which is sadly sad.

This is, in fact, the extended remix of this piece, as the first version was too long to submit, so I edited it down by about 30 words. The paper then removed another 50 or so. You've got the fat and flabby version.

My column this week marked my 25th piece for the North West Evening Mail, although they seem to have got somewhat befuddled over where it goes online. My most recent article seems to go straight into the archive, with no reference as to who wrote it. If I'm lucky, it then seems to make it back into the main columns section with photo and credit... sometimes.

(Seriously rocking out in an orchestral way today to Nightwish's "Dark Passion Play". Loud. Is there any other way..?)

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...

"It's all gone quiet..." said Roobarb

If, like me, you grew up (and I’m aware of the irony in that) in the ‘70s, February was a tough month, with the sad news that Richard Briers and Bob Godfrey had died. Briers had a distinguished acting career and is, quite rightly, fondly remembered most for his character in ‘The Good Life’. Amongst his many roles, both serious and comedic, he also lent his voice to a startling bit of animation that burst it’s wobbly way on to our wooden-box-surrounded screens in 1974. The 1970s seemed to be largely hued in varying shades of beige, with hints of mustard yellow and burnt orange, and colour TV was a relatively new experience still, so the animated adventures of a daft dog and caustic cat who were the shades of dayglo green and pink normally reserved for highlighter pens, must have been a bit of a shock to the eyes at the time. It caused mine to open very wide indeed. Roobarb was written by Grange Calveley, and brought vividly into life by Godfrey, whose strange, shaky-looking sty...

Suffering from natural obsolescence

You know you’re getting old when it dawns on you that you’re outliving technological breakthroughs. You know the sort of thing – something revolutionary, that heralds a seismic shift it the way the modern world operates. Clever, time-saving, breathtaking and life-changing (and featuring a circuit board). It’s the future, baby! Until it isn’t any more. I got to pondering this when we laughed heartily in the office about someone asking if our camcorder used “tape”. Tape? Get with the times, Daddy-o! If it ain’t digital then for-get-it! I then attempted to explain to an impossibly young colleague that video tape in a camcorder was indeed once a “thing”, requiring the carrying of something the size of a briefcase around on your shoulder, containing batteries normally reserved for a bus, and a start-up time from pressing ‘Record’ so lengthy, couples were already getting divorced by the time it was ready to record them saying “I do”. After explaining what tape was, I realised I’d ...

grumpyf1

Search This Blog