With the invention of the VCR (videocassette recorder), machines beyond our pay grade began to enter our homes. Most homes had the VCR clock flashing 12:00 because nobody knew how to set it. And if we did manage to record something, we never marked the tape, so we never knew which had the last game of the World Series.
In the 1960s, unless there was a leak or the toilet plunger didn’t do the trick, my parents never needed help. If the TV wasn’t working, you smacked it. If your toast wouldn’t pop up, you stuck a fork into the toaster. I once smacked my iPhone and it thought I had fallen and called 911.
When my laptop freezes or won’t connect to Wi-Fi, my wife is sick of hearing me scream her name to help unfreeze it or to give me our home Wi-Fi password for the 58th time. They say there are no stupid questions, but not according to my wife.
My parents needed no password to watch “Bonanza” or “Flipper.” When my father said, “Turn the TV on,” that was our password.
My parents’ 1952 Chevy had no seat belts. Instead of taking me to an amusement park, my father would stop short, and I’d go flying around the car. We had power steering only when driving on ice, an AM radio that went dead in tunnels and a car heater that smelled like a goat was being roasted under the hood. Our air-conditioning was when we rolled down the car window by hand and stuck our faces out.
But now, because of technology, we are considering adopting a 12-year-old. Believe me, we don’t want to put someone else through college who tells us we are morons, but because we are technologically challenged and need an IT person on call 24/7, we need a 12-year-old and will pay them with 7-Eleven Slurpees.
A 12-year-old could help us set up our internet and maintain our network updates, install software, manage security (protect against hackers and viruses), stop us when we are about to divulge our bank routing numbers and help the Sserwadda family in Uganda with seven children, all of whom need an operation for ankyloglossia (tongue-tie).
When checking into a hotel, you now need the bellman (and maybe that 12-year-old) to walk you through how everything works. I found myself in a room with just panels with arrows and no on-off switches anywhere. I tried to pull the blackout curtains closed to keep out the morning light (can you still say blackout curtains?) and ended up yanking them down on my head. I was unaware that there was a button that could open and close the curtains electronically.
Every time I tried to turn one light off, another went on. It took me an hour to figure out that I had to insert my room key into a slot on the wall to turn on the heat or AC. When I went out on the balcony, the AC turned off automatically. I called for the electrician who shut my balcony door, and back on it went. For years, my iPhone has been demagnetizing my room card. People walking by think I’m breaking into the room.
My wife and I have Ring cameras inside and outside our house, and the only thing they catch is our dog peeing on the leg of our couch.
Before my ablation for atrial fibrillation, I had to guess if my heart was out of rhythm. Now I have a little device I sync to my iPhone, and I know in seconds. That peace of mind is worth everything.
Would I prefer to return to the simpler days when you spun the eggbeater by hand? Absolutely not. Not knowing how these things work is on me. I’d rather blame my frustration and unwillingness to learn the curve needed because of my age than enjoy what these miraculous inventions offer.
Because the rest of the world has gotten sick of hearing me ask questions, I spend most of my day in my 40-year-old bathrobe, talking to my AI wife. If any 12-year-olds want to do a mitzvah, contact me through Facebook Messenger. It may take me a few months to find your message, but I will get back to you.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
