From the Bench

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

I got a new cellphone last month. It came with an attractive four-color instruction manual. It was impressive……sixty-pages impressive.

According to the manual, this instrument will do all sorts of wondrous things. It can be used to browse. It can send emails. It can store all kinds of information. When properly programmed and equipped, it can send faxes.

Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. In fact I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t figure out how to make it do what I bought it for, namely, make a phone call.

Installing the battery and putting it on charge was simple. Calling the phone company to alert them that I was ready to go was a piece of cake. From there on, it was down hill.

While I was still digging through the instructions in open-mouthed awe of this scientific marvel, my wife walked into the room, retrieved it from my hand, and smugly proceeded to make a call. After allowing me to suffer in male-ego shame and disgrace for too long, she admitted that she had called our daughter (on the regular phone) for instructions.

The world has become much too complex. There are too many "things" to contend with, too many options to choose from……even when making a simple phone call.

Times were much simpler back when Miz Clara Jones worked the telephone switchboard here in town.
Miz Clara is still a legend to old timers hereabouts. She operated from the second floor of the building on main street above where Agnes Shipp’s variety store is now located. She knew every number by heart, and most of the time she knew where everybody was.

It was not uncommon for Miz Clara to stick her head out the window and yell down to some man on the street to go in the grocery store and pick up the telephone, his wife wanted to talk to him.

Today, when you need help or information, you dial seven to eleven digits, get a recording telling you to dial more digits, then stay on the phone for twenty minutes, listening to music you don’t want to hear, interrupted by commercials for something you don’t want to buy, and an occasional message reassuring you that your call is very important to "us".

This never happened with Miz Clara. If nobody was home, she told you. She might tell you where they were if she knew you and trusted you. And if the lady of the house had a sick headache, Miz Clara wouldn’t ring the phone to disturb her.

You were off the phone in fifteen seconds. And Miz Clara didn’t sing to you or try to sell you anything.

Now that was service. And it didn’t come in a glossy, multi-colored manual.

Yes, the world has gotten much too complicated. For instance, the words you are reading now started off in Royston, Georgia, made their way to Columbia, South Carolina, hopped an internet freight to somewhere in Texas, and got back to you by lord-only-knows what routing. That’s awesome.

Even this computer I am using still blows my mind. In fact, it has been acting funny while I am composing this column.

(Now it has quit completely. Just a minute………click, click……click, click….)
(You’ll have to excuse me. I’ll be gone for a while…)
(Sorry, I don’t have any mood music while you wait.)

(Well, I’m back. I took the "Windows" manual with me. It says that when the computer freezes up to hit CTRL-ALT-DEL……There. Now what?……..click, click….END TASK, click, click…..SAVE, click, click…..CLOSE, click, click…..RESTART)

There! That’s better. The column is back on the screen.

CAN YOU READ ME NOW?

Ó2002 Dave Nelson

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