Most of you who know me, will know that I am a bit of a technophile. I have always been one, and over the years have managed to access and keep abreast with the latest technology, either by reading about the advances or by purchasing, within the boundaries of my limited affordability, the latest gadget. Two recent experiences however, reminded me of my fallibility as regards keeping pace with developments in the tech arena are concerned. Because of my infatuation with technology, I had always assumed that I had a flair for it, and that a glancing encounter with any device, would be enough for me to be on top of any advancements (at least hardware related). This little mental paradise was shaken by the events that unfurled in the last month.
The first incident happened a few weeks ago. I had just opened an account with a new Bank, as part of the requirements of my mortgage arrangements. I was supposed to fund that account with a certain minimum balance, for my instalments to be released to the property developer. Since I had run out of cheque leaves from my existing bank account, I decided to fund the new account, by taking out cash from my old account and depositing it into the new one. Easier said than done! I reached the premises of the new bank, cash in hand and entered an air-conditioned room with a bank of ATM machines, the likes of which I had not encountered before. I took out my card and tried to insert it into the card slot of the first machine. No luck. I tried with the second machine - again the same result. Walked to the third machine, which had no slot for the card at all. By now I was completely confused. I was trying to maintain my position in the rapidly forming queues and read the instructions for the ATM’s at the same time. I could see other customers using their cards and hence knew that there was nothing wrong with the ATM's.
Eventually out of desperation I turned around to the man behind me for assistance. He looked to be a construction site worker. On hearing my request, him and another Good Samaritan, who had sensed my situation, took my card, pressed some buttons, inserted my card, asked me to type in my PIN and then deposited the cash into my account. I was completely cowed by then and as I shamefully left the premises, I thought about the number of times I had seen others struggle at similar machines, while I have been standing behind them, tapping my feet in impatience. I never thought that I would be in that situation – ever.
The next incident happened just a few days later, in the UK. I was at the Lensbury Club, my company’s convention center in Teddington. I had flown in the previous evening and wanted to quickly get into my groove by starting my exercise sessions. I headed off to the gym in the early morning, through light rain and biting cold. There was a shortcut, from my residential quarters to the club, which avoided my having to walk all the way around through the main entrance. Suffice to say, that the shortcut involved navigating a set of revolving doors, which despite my most fervent pushing refused to move. Much to my embarrassment I was made to realise that they were again, access card operated. As I was trying to figure out my next move, a young lady who had been outside jogging, excused herself past me, and used her card to gain access. She had probably seen my struggle with the door, and volunteered to let me in ahead, but gallantry prevented me from preceding her through the doors. As I saw her rapidly retreating form, I realised with a growing sense of desperation, that I would have been much better off accepting her offer of assistance. There I was, left out in the cold, desperately trying to swipe the card and push the door, but to no avail. Eventually, I decided to take the long way round, through the main entrance to access the gymnasium, much chastened and deflated.
These incidents might seem funny to you dear reader, but to me are a watershed moment in my life. They make me realise my own mortality, as the phase of my life, which was comfortable with advancing technology, draws to a close. In the last few years I have been increasingly impatient in the face of tech products and it has been the concept rather than the product that has held my attention. Even though I have periodically bought new products, be it Ipods, Mobile phones, LCD TV's or the latest DVD players, I have not even scratched the surface, as regards my knowledge of their features go. In fact, I always question the rationale of cramming them with so many buttons and features, the vast majority of which will never be used in that products lifetime.
This mindset was not always so. I still remember the time when a new product involved days of happy study, learning the features and operating limits of that gizmo. The operating manual was always read cover to cover, before the product was unpacked. I was not always as impatient in connecting the wires and setting up the system, as I am now. In fact I used to like to take the product apart and reassemble it just to see its innards with all the circuit boards and small transistor valves. Now the operating manual is a port of last call, to be resorted to, only when there is a breakdown or a major snafu. I cannot wait for my son to take on the mantle of tech-in-chief, so that I can resign and consign the mundane tasks of setting up, connecting and synchronising the various products, reading the instruction manuals and sorting out operating problems, to him.
The dilemma is whether these events have been catalysed by the fact that each product is now unbelievably complex and feature ridden, or is it to do with my advancing years? I sincerely hope it is the former, and that it is a subconscious decision on my part to better utilise my limited brain capacity in other more fulfilling areas. I shudder to think of the consequences of what a slippage in my tech prowess at this stage in my life, foretells.
My parent’s generation skipped the entire PC revolution and all the ancillary progress that ensued. They still function in a paper-dominated world, using typewriters and landlines for communication. There is a high level of discomfort with any machine that seems more intelligent than a human. ATM’s, computers, entertainment systems, tech-laden cars, in fact the very fabric of our material universe is non-comprehensible to them. Every day that passes by, increases the distance between them and the digital world.
My Dad and I still laugh about the time, many years ago when I introduced him to a laptop. He was visiting Dubai, and I told him to spend a day getting acquainted with a computer, writing letters to his friend’s back home. I told him not to worry, and that these machines were idiot proof. Famous last words! After giving him (according to me) failsafe-operating instructions I left for the day. When I returned I gazed upon the screen, to see a sight that I have never seen since. The laptop was frozen, did not react to any commands, and to add insult to injury could not be hard closed. It needed a visit to my Company’s IT helpdesk to prevent its untimely death. After that day I have never felt comfortable leaving anything with an integrated processor, in the hands of my father.
The next generation is only slightly better, though many in its population have had more than a passing association with the PC and the Internet. Their comfort levels, though orders of magnitude better than the previous generation, do not even come close to the aptitude of my generation. They trip and stumble around in this world, more often than not, totally bemused with their predicament.
My children’s generation are of course, completely in tune with this world. They seem to have an instinctive bond with technology and do not get intimidated with its complexity. They were born after the PC came into the house, and hence are completely at ease basking in the monitor’s LED glare. The digital world truly belongs to them, and often, small incidents remind us that we are just visitors in their world, strangers in a land getting ever stranger. If you have ever seen a 3-year-old interfacing with these products, any doubts about the veracity of this statement will be erased.
For example, we (my wife and I) love gaming, and we do, as a family, play Xbox games. We severely restrict our son from playing more than an hour a week, though my wife and I sometimes play in excess of 10 hours a week. But once in a while, we use the multi-player option to go head to head against our son, in games that we are infinitely more familiar with. Let me tell you that it is total mayhem. He absolutely massacres us, be it driving games or shooting ones. We stand no chance at all. We rave and rant and fly into fits of rage. In that emotionally charged moment, I often use my prerogative as head of the house, to ban him from ever playing the Xbox again.
I love technology and the cool products that it constantly spews out. I hate the fact that I might not be able to manage and handle the cooler gadgets yet to come. I hate even more the inevitable future, where I will require the youth to assist me through my tech infested life, as my feeble eyes try to read the operating instructions on machines that are the size of my fingernails.
The first incident happened a few weeks ago. I had just opened an account with a new Bank, as part of the requirements of my mortgage arrangements. I was supposed to fund that account with a certain minimum balance, for my instalments to be released to the property developer. Since I had run out of cheque leaves from my existing bank account, I decided to fund the new account, by taking out cash from my old account and depositing it into the new one. Easier said than done! I reached the premises of the new bank, cash in hand and entered an air-conditioned room with a bank of ATM machines, the likes of which I had not encountered before. I took out my card and tried to insert it into the card slot of the first machine. No luck. I tried with the second machine - again the same result. Walked to the third machine, which had no slot for the card at all. By now I was completely confused. I was trying to maintain my position in the rapidly forming queues and read the instructions for the ATM’s at the same time. I could see other customers using their cards and hence knew that there was nothing wrong with the ATM's.
Eventually out of desperation I turned around to the man behind me for assistance. He looked to be a construction site worker. On hearing my request, him and another Good Samaritan, who had sensed my situation, took my card, pressed some buttons, inserted my card, asked me to type in my PIN and then deposited the cash into my account. I was completely cowed by then and as I shamefully left the premises, I thought about the number of times I had seen others struggle at similar machines, while I have been standing behind them, tapping my feet in impatience. I never thought that I would be in that situation – ever.
The next incident happened just a few days later, in the UK. I was at the Lensbury Club, my company’s convention center in Teddington. I had flown in the previous evening and wanted to quickly get into my groove by starting my exercise sessions. I headed off to the gym in the early morning, through light rain and biting cold. There was a shortcut, from my residential quarters to the club, which avoided my having to walk all the way around through the main entrance. Suffice to say, that the shortcut involved navigating a set of revolving doors, which despite my most fervent pushing refused to move. Much to my embarrassment I was made to realise that they were again, access card operated. As I was trying to figure out my next move, a young lady who had been outside jogging, excused herself past me, and used her card to gain access. She had probably seen my struggle with the door, and volunteered to let me in ahead, but gallantry prevented me from preceding her through the doors. As I saw her rapidly retreating form, I realised with a growing sense of desperation, that I would have been much better off accepting her offer of assistance. There I was, left out in the cold, desperately trying to swipe the card and push the door, but to no avail. Eventually, I decided to take the long way round, through the main entrance to access the gymnasium, much chastened and deflated.
These incidents might seem funny to you dear reader, but to me are a watershed moment in my life. They make me realise my own mortality, as the phase of my life, which was comfortable with advancing technology, draws to a close. In the last few years I have been increasingly impatient in the face of tech products and it has been the concept rather than the product that has held my attention. Even though I have periodically bought new products, be it Ipods, Mobile phones, LCD TV's or the latest DVD players, I have not even scratched the surface, as regards my knowledge of their features go. In fact, I always question the rationale of cramming them with so many buttons and features, the vast majority of which will never be used in that products lifetime.
This mindset was not always so. I still remember the time when a new product involved days of happy study, learning the features and operating limits of that gizmo. The operating manual was always read cover to cover, before the product was unpacked. I was not always as impatient in connecting the wires and setting up the system, as I am now. In fact I used to like to take the product apart and reassemble it just to see its innards with all the circuit boards and small transistor valves. Now the operating manual is a port of last call, to be resorted to, only when there is a breakdown or a major snafu. I cannot wait for my son to take on the mantle of tech-in-chief, so that I can resign and consign the mundane tasks of setting up, connecting and synchronising the various products, reading the instruction manuals and sorting out operating problems, to him.
The dilemma is whether these events have been catalysed by the fact that each product is now unbelievably complex and feature ridden, or is it to do with my advancing years? I sincerely hope it is the former, and that it is a subconscious decision on my part to better utilise my limited brain capacity in other more fulfilling areas. I shudder to think of the consequences of what a slippage in my tech prowess at this stage in my life, foretells.
My parent’s generation skipped the entire PC revolution and all the ancillary progress that ensued. They still function in a paper-dominated world, using typewriters and landlines for communication. There is a high level of discomfort with any machine that seems more intelligent than a human. ATM’s, computers, entertainment systems, tech-laden cars, in fact the very fabric of our material universe is non-comprehensible to them. Every day that passes by, increases the distance between them and the digital world.
My Dad and I still laugh about the time, many years ago when I introduced him to a laptop. He was visiting Dubai, and I told him to spend a day getting acquainted with a computer, writing letters to his friend’s back home. I told him not to worry, and that these machines were idiot proof. Famous last words! After giving him (according to me) failsafe-operating instructions I left for the day. When I returned I gazed upon the screen, to see a sight that I have never seen since. The laptop was frozen, did not react to any commands, and to add insult to injury could not be hard closed. It needed a visit to my Company’s IT helpdesk to prevent its untimely death. After that day I have never felt comfortable leaving anything with an integrated processor, in the hands of my father.
The next generation is only slightly better, though many in its population have had more than a passing association with the PC and the Internet. Their comfort levels, though orders of magnitude better than the previous generation, do not even come close to the aptitude of my generation. They trip and stumble around in this world, more often than not, totally bemused with their predicament.
My children’s generation are of course, completely in tune with this world. They seem to have an instinctive bond with technology and do not get intimidated with its complexity. They were born after the PC came into the house, and hence are completely at ease basking in the monitor’s LED glare. The digital world truly belongs to them, and often, small incidents remind us that we are just visitors in their world, strangers in a land getting ever stranger. If you have ever seen a 3-year-old interfacing with these products, any doubts about the veracity of this statement will be erased.
For example, we (my wife and I) love gaming, and we do, as a family, play Xbox games. We severely restrict our son from playing more than an hour a week, though my wife and I sometimes play in excess of 10 hours a week. But once in a while, we use the multi-player option to go head to head against our son, in games that we are infinitely more familiar with. Let me tell you that it is total mayhem. He absolutely massacres us, be it driving games or shooting ones. We stand no chance at all. We rave and rant and fly into fits of rage. In that emotionally charged moment, I often use my prerogative as head of the house, to ban him from ever playing the Xbox again.
I love technology and the cool products that it constantly spews out. I hate the fact that I might not be able to manage and handle the cooler gadgets yet to come. I hate even more the inevitable future, where I will require the youth to assist me through my tech infested life, as my feeble eyes try to read the operating instructions on machines that are the size of my fingernails.
1 comment:
Zubin, my eyes are already feeble when it comes to technology. This is a piece I will read from time to time and seek solace in the fact that years from now I will not be seen as the only technically challenged person - there will be others and they will be from my generation! :)
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