Driven a little crazy by ‘technicalities’

By Darrell Laurant

Published: March 30, 2008

They call someone who mistrusts and resists progress a “luddite.”

I’m not one of them. I have no nostalgic yearnings for manual typewriters. I don’t miss carbon paper. I enjoy — and take full advantage of — all the modern conveniences I can.

Having said that, though, there are still aspects of our hi-tech 2008 society that irritate me. Like …

- Unintelligible computer messages.

What triggered all this was when my home computer locked up the other day and this message appeared on the screen: “Object reference not set to an instance of an object.”

Sounds kind of existential, doesn’t it? But what does that mean?

The message went on to attempt further explanation: “An exception error occurred during the execution of the current web report.”

Oh, sure — an exception error. Why didn’t they just say so?

My computer at work will occasionally provide this helpful bit of information post-glitch: “Error No. 327.”

I’m always tempted to call somebody and say: “No, I think you’re wrong. I’m going on instinct here, but it feels like a No. 324 to me.”

The problem is, there’s no one to call.

These would be messages I could understand and relate to …

1. There is something wrong with your computer. Just turn it off and on again, and the problem will probably go away.

2. There is something very wrong with your computer. Call someone.

3. You really didn’t want all that stuff on your hard drive, did you?

- People driving cars while talking on cell phones.

I can’t get over the uncomfortable feeling that one of these people is going to kill me someday. It’s almost happened twice already.

- The recorded female voice on Verizon’s directory information.

She sounds like she wants to help, but she and I just don’t click. As in this recent conversation:

She (it): “What city, please?”

Me: “Lynchburg, Virginia.”

She: “That’s … Richmond, Virginia, right?”

Me: “No. Lynchburg, Virginia.”

She: “Sorry. That’s … Vicksburg, Virginia, right?”

Me: LYNCHBURG, VIRGINIA!!

She: “I’ll connect you with an operator.”

- Voice mail labyrinths from hell.

If I knew the number of the person I was calling, I would have called them, not put myself through all of this.

- Passwords and PIN numbers.

I have so many of these to remember that my head is in danger of exploding. Of course, I can never recover the one I need at the right time from my database … excuse me, brain.

- Local companies with no local number.

Mark my words — someday, we’re going to outsource this newspaper. It’s going to be printed somewhere in Eastern Europe, and if you have a complaint, you’ll be given a number in Singapore.

To me, outsourcing is the perfect answer to the war in Iraq: Just hire somebody else to fight it, the way the British sent German Hessians to subdue the belligerent American colonists.

- Zombie telemarketers on tape.

“Please stay on the line for an important message.”

In your dreams, pal.

- Faucets with sensors.

Am I the only person who finds myself standing at the sink with soap all over my hands, groping beneath an unresponsive piece of metal like I’m milking a cow?

- Self-flushing toilets.

They really creep me out. I’ve heard they’ve eaten people.

If you’ve got any gripes of your own, let me know. Maybe we can start a revolution.