Saturday, September 27, 2014

Not a technophobe, but...

I only bought my first ‘smart’ phone at the beginning of 2013, and even now, almost into the last quarter of 2014, I still often forget to switch it on until well into the day. I rarely use it, even as a phone. I only bought it because of all the great things people told me I would be able to do if I had one. Apparently none of these great things appeal to me... greatly. I sometimes feel obliged to invent some usefulness for this monthly expense. The impulse rarely lasts long. I am still waiting for this gadget to miraculously transform my life.

It is, therefore, with some amusement that I observe the excitement in people’s eyes as they await the release of the xth version of some company or other’s new model. I am thrilled to hear that it now does something—something I have never had any need for—much more quickly than it did before; or that it now does two quite unnecessary tasks simultaneously; or that it now does something entirely new that I have never wanted (and am never likely to want) to do.

I am not a technophobe. I love my computer. I am hardly ever away from it. I love my Kindle, and hardly ever read a physical book. I can see the point of navigator-thingummies, although I can manage perfectly well without one. I am probably a gimmick-o-phobe or gadget-o-phobe. I am also a creating-a-market-for-something-which-is-entirely-unnecessary-o-phobe. (Okay, I admit that didn’t exactly flow off the tongue.) Someone once tried to convince me of the value of their smart phone by explaining that they could write their shopping list on it. Well, folks, I remain convinced that it’s a damn sight easier to jot it down on a piece of paper. Perhaps I will invent the notebook (the kind with paper and spiral binding). Oh wait, that’s been done.

‘But I would lose the piece of paper,’ my friend objected.

‘But I would forget to take my phone,’ I decided not to reply.

This friend would have no framework for understanding this concept. ‘Forgetting my phone’ would have no more meaning for them than ‘forgetting to breathe’.

I love technology, but I hate being made to think I need something that I actually don’t. This goes far beyond technology, of course. I hate being made to think I need twenty-seven types of insurance. I hate being made to think we need ‘tougher security laws’.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against wanting things either. I don’t need chocolate, but I surely do want it. Perhaps even worse than being persuaded that I need something is being persuaded that I want something. Well, I don’t want twenty-seven types of insurance or tougher security laws. I don’t really want a smart phone either. To my shame I did let myself be persuaded that I just might need it. I don’t, but I’m stuck with it for a while, maybe forever. I’m not sure I even actually need a mobile phone of any kind. I know I need a computer, and I want it. I know I want my Kindle, and I can see some obvious benefits—no need to carry books around or clutter the house with them; cheaper ebooks. I have no need or desire for a tablet of any kind. So far nothing has persuaded me that I either need or want one of those.

The fact that someone will queue for days to be the first to buy the new model of... something. Well, that’s a little sad, don’t you think?

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