There comes a time in everyone’s life, when the newest technology surpasses ones ability to figure it out (well, easily at least). I can remember picking up working a VCR and tape player pretty easily (of course, they were very easy, they had like five buttons). Then when my house got our first CD player, it was pretty easy for me to fool around with it for ten minutes and I could tell you what all the buttons did. It wasn’t so easy for my father, who was raised on records. It took him a while to get the CD thing down. And the recordable CD. And when I gave him a DVD player as a gift one year, well, I’m not sure he ever did figure that one out before he passed. But I always thought it was just him, and that he wasn’t inclined to understand electronics. It would never happen to me. Well my friends, I hate to say it but I have hit that age.
I made the leap yesterday and bought a smart phone. It seemed almost a necessity. I made all the right rationalizations. “It’ll help me with my social networking, which is good for my blog.” “I’ll be able to blog while I’m not even home.” “I’ll be able to do some of the things I need to do to help get traffic to my site while I’m out, not just at home, which will leave me more of my home time desi gay chat to relax, play with the kids; what a wonderful world it’s gonna be when I get me a smartphone.” So I did it. I bought a Droid X. This smartphone was gonna make my life so much easier. I couldn’t wait. It might even save my life. I might get lost in the wilderness, and not know which plants were safe to eat, and I bet there is an app for that (if you had phone service, you wouldn’t be lost in the woods, dummy).
So I was excited to take it out of the package and get started. And after about 20 minutes of trying to make sense of it, I was ready to put it back in the package and send it back. WTF? I figured even if the extras took a little time to figure out, I’d be able to call a contact, or send a text message relatively simply. No such luck. If I go into contacts, my damn Facebook and twitter people are mixed in with the contacts I used to have. And I can’t find the people I need to call (the lady at the store truly suggested one with a keyboard for a neanderthal like me, I didn’t listen). And I can’t tell when I get a text, cause my text messages are jumbled in with Facebook messages and emails. On top of all that, the damn thing keeps yelling “DROID” at me (I feel like it’s taunting me. Like “DROID. Go ahead and say my name. You know I’m your daddy. DROID. Repeat after me: ‘DROID.’ Come on. Come on. Ahhhh. Doesn’t that feel better?”). I’m getting owned by a smartphone.
Usually when they make something more complicated, they give it a million more buttons. Not with this one. This is the largest jump ever in technology, from a regular phone to a smartphone. It’s like going from reel to reel straight to an Ipod. From a donkey to a motorcycle (in which case you are now the ass). Like going from figuring out how a women’s sexual parts work to…., wait, that’s hard enough (maybe there’s an app for that). They decided they were totally going against what they did for every other piece of technology that my generation has watched come to life, and gave it less buttons (How am I supposed to work a phone that doesn’t at least have 12 buttons, or a rotary? It’s got 8 buttons. Uh, HELLO, there is 10 numbers!). When I look at it, I’m scared to touch it. It seriously reminds me of something that some time traveler brought back from like 1000 years from now, and from too many movies I think I’ll gain some kind of hex by holding it. Or I’ll end up like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (They wants my Droidy, yessssss, they do).
I even attempted to get online, cause I figured I knew how to surf the web. Wrong. I can’t figure nothing out. When I go to sign in to a site, after I put in my username, I can’t get back to the screen to put my password in, and it just keeps entering telling me it’s an invalid password (I know it’s invalid, you didn’t let me enter it).