When I finally gave in and bought my new used car a few months ago–I bought one that was built in this decade, which means I can still barely turn on the radio without resorting to the 400-page manual in the glovebox.
I’ve written about the wonders of my new ride, but some of the glow has worn off.
As I became aware that I no longer needed a car-key, I began to miss having one. Figuring out the new bells and whistles has been like figuring out the iCloud: I’ve spent three months banging my head against the steering wheel and on hold with customer service when all I want to do is drive to the store.
The techno age was just beginning to take hold 20 years ago. I was there. I signed up for AOL, memorized my cell phone number, learned how to text, and got rid of my CD’s and went digital.
But my triumphant learning curve seemed to drop steeply somewhere along the way and I’ve missed out on a big chunk of know-how. When I sent a document from my iPad to my iPhone, the instructions were for astronauts.
If you feel my pain, here’s something that might make you feel better: there’s a whole lot of people who are wandering around in a techno haze—people who are happy just to be able to take out 20 bucks from an ATM but have no grand plans to reprogram the seat positions in their new cars.
I got a notice recently that it was time for me to pay my iCloud storage fees, but I don’t even know what that means. And the truth is that Apple has done a lousy job educating us because it’s a company whose motto is “figure it out.”
I’m not even sure Apple itself knows what the iCloud is.
“What the heck is the iCloud?” People write on Twitter and Facebook. Nobody knew what to make of the notification that their iCloud space was nearly full, and that it would cost them $20 to clear some space.
“My iCloud storage is almost full,” Someone wrote on Twitter. “But how can it be full if it’s a cloud?”
The phone store told me that it would be four hours before the upload was complete. “And you have to stay here,” “The phone guy” said “because you’re connected to the Internet and that’s the only way it will work.”
“Goodbye,” I told him. “Have a nice day.”
The world is becoming unintelligible.
We use systems to deal with problems. But eventually, those systems become complex and we cannot understand them. As a result, the world is full of bugs and glitches: My mom abandoned her new printer. “I don’t understand it anymore,” She said as she headed to the office store to print out something.
My cousin was lost the other day and I told her to use her iPhone’s Maps application to help her find her way home.
“I don’t know how to turn it on,” She said, referring specifically to the app.
Danny Hillis is an American computer scientist who calls this dilemma “entanglement.” It’s a trend, he says, toward more complex and more interconnected technological surroundings. He holds that our machines are so complicated now that it’s not possible to just “get it” anymore.
So it’s not about just sitting down and taking the time to figure things out—like spending an hour with your mother and explaining what the iCloud is. Just calling your kids with a technical question isn’t always fruitful because things are so complicated now they might not even know the answer.
One day, there will be very few people who understand what’s going on or how things function. I find this to be an incredibly humble experience.
Do you remember when you purchased your first vehicle? You must have spent hours admiring your first car.
“Are you ever coming inside?” My mother yelled out the front door during dinner.
It happened again when I drove home with these new wheels. My husband asked me at some point if I was ok as I sat for a while in the dtiveway.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure how to shut this thing down,” I said. “The radio won’t go off.”
My car keys. I miss my old station-wagon. He was an uncomplicated, reliable and sweet vehicle.
Also, I miss my very first job. I ran a route of paper for the Buffalo Evening News. I got paid to throw a newspaper on people’s steps.
This job was so simple, I really miss simplicity. It’s a lot.