A STORY WORTH TELLING
“Our mission is to connect every person in the world.”
— Mark Zuckerberg
Technological advancement should bring improved quality of life by saving time and productivity.
The internet does that. So do phones that replace a plethora of everyday items while fitting in a pocket or a purse.
However, the jury is out on artificial intelligence, or AI. Don’t we have enough artificial intelligence serving in elected offices and as television-news analysts?
I was around to see fax machines hailed as futuristic. We marveled at the one we were quick to install at the newspaper office in Center.
“It’s going to save so much time,” we cheered as we gazed at documents magically transferred through phone lines. With every screeching sound of the machine’s “handshake” tone, everyone in the office gathered to “ooh” and “ah” at letters from the other side of the country arriving in mere minutes.
Granted, technology does make us look wonderful when it works. But it can leave us feeling silly when it doesn’t.
The late Lewis Grizzard, a Southern humorist and author, put it succinctly in his book “Elvis Is Dead, and I Don’t Feel So Good Myself.”
With his insightful humor, Grizzard poked fun at analog baby boomers trying to fit in with modern digital technology. He said it made him feel like the world around him was a tuxedo and he was wearing brown shoes.
Those thoughts came to me when my home security system failed.
That’s the one designed to perform what a bad dog backed up by a Smith & Wesson used to take care of, but where erring humans sometimes fail.
The system monitors security, thermostat, lights and selected appliances. Plus, it records videos of anyone approaching the doors and even allows me to answer the doorbell from across town or across the country.
All of this is controlled by a smartphone provided the system installer and the smartphone user are smarter than the technology.
In this case, a young technician came to my house and upgraded my control panel. He arrived, was done in short order and gone.
At bedtime, cats were put out, dogs let in, doors locked and pillows fluffed. As the last measure before drifting into blissful slumber, I set the alarm confident in the sophisticated system with my “three dog night” backup.
For the record, my money’s on the dogs for reliability. They do one thing the alarm doesn’t — wake me without fail at 5:30 a.m., reminding me of their urgent need to go outside.
However, responding to the “doggie alarm” by poking numbers on the new panel at 5:32 a.m. the next morning failed. The words “Incorrect Code” were easy to see, even when half asleep. A second attempt with glasses was equally unsuccessful. By the third try, all three dogs were poised and pointing at the back door with tears in their eyes.
My first thought was to simply open the door. Within seconds, I would be talking to someone from the security company.
The problem was that I could also have been talking to uniformed police officers – with guns.
Deciding that calling the alarm company was a better option, I dialed the number and was pleasantly greeted by, “Good morning, how may I help you?”
“My dogs and I are being held hostage in my house,” I joked about the non-functioning panel.
Please note that humor is not an appropriate response when talking to a homesecurity agent. Once we reached an understanding of what constitutes funny and what does not, it was determined the technician had failed to program the new panel with my security code.
“No problem, I can walk you through it,” the understanding agent said. However, her realization of dealing with someone who could not program their VCR, combined with learning she was talking with someone who still uses a VCR, dashed all hope of a speedy solution.
We stumbled through it, much to the delight of three agonizing dogs who burst out the back door. Crisis over, my thoughts turned to caffeine.
And to Facebook co-founder Mark Zuckerberg’s philosophy and Grizzard’s humor.
First, talking to security-system people at 5:30 a.m. was not what I envisioned as connecting to every person in the world.
And second, my brown shoes in a tuxedo world at 5:30 a.m. was not fun.
Aldridge can be contacted at [email protected]. Other Aldridge columns can be found at leonaldridge. com
