The Beauty And The Beast Of Modern Technology

Summary

The author expresses a love-hate relationship with modern technology, particularly with computers and smartphones, due to their unpredictable and often frustrating behavior.

Abstract

The author candidly admits to a tumultuous relationship with modern technology, exemplified by repeated mishaps with his wife's Apple computer and various software applications. He describes a scenario where the computer, likened to a secretary, fails to perform simple tasks accurately, leading to a cycle of errors and misunderstandings. The author also recounts incidents where his work was unexpectedly deleted and his reliance on Siri for weather updates provided inaccurate information. Despite these challenges, the author acknowledges the beauty and potential of modern technology, comparing it to an exotic Italian sports car that, while aesthetically pleasing and desirable, can be temperamental and unreliable.

Opinions

The author views modern technology as temperamental and uncooperative, often causing frustration and a sense of helplessness.
There is a perceived lack of reliability in technology, such as the Apple computer deleting the author's work without warning or recourse.
The author's experience with Siri, which provides incorrect weather information, leads to a lack of trust in the accuracy of AI assistants.
Despite the frustrations, the author appreciates the aesthetic and functional appeal of technology when it operates correctly.
The author's wife finds humor in his struggles with technology, indicating a contrast

A love hate relationship with my computer

Photograph by kind courtesy of Pixabay

I have a confession to make. I seem to have developed a love hate relationship with my wife’s Applemac, or anything else to do with new technology. Me and computers or mobile phones just do not get on.

The new tech is like a recalcitrant secretary. I ask her to get me Google and she disappears for a moment, god knows where, and comes back into my office with anything but. She brings me Skype. I ask again and she asks me if I am sure I do not want Skype. Then she brings me Messenger. And on it goes, we have to go through the whole rigmarole all over again. Eventually, when I am fit to scream she brings me what I asked for in the first place, by which time I have completely forgotten what I was going to do next.

On my wife’s Applemac I am terrified to write anything direct on to Medium or Linkedin because no sooner do I get to the end of the piece than she runs in and snaffles the blessed thing from right under my nose and deletes it, never to be seen again. Not a sign of it anywhere in the history or on the hard drive. She’s only gone and deleted a morning’s bloody work in the blink of an eye. And now I have to write it all over again.

I have problems with Siri too. I ask her how Japan is going on with the typhoon, a typhoon that I know for an absolute fact is raging through Tokyo. Siri declares that there isn’t any inclement weather to be seen anywhere in Japan at the moment. Or she will tell me no rain is due where I am, and even as she says this it is positively pissing down outside my window. There is a flash flood or a tsunami destroying all around, and Siri the lying little madam tells me we are set for a fine day that will last until the end of the month next week.

Is it just me ? Or are we all cursed with the same blessed temperamental temp? My wife thinks it’s hilarious to see me go into meltdown screaming all manner of unsavoury obscenities and highly credible threats at this inanimate object as it drives me round the bend.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it when it works. But many is the time it is like driving a beautiful Italian exoti-car. The concept is a work of art to behold. But just when you need it most, first thing in the morning to get to work on a rainy day, the stunningly beautiful object of all men’s desire stubbornly refuses to start. It is at times like this I can well understand a man’s burning desire to just set fire to the bloody thing or stab it to death.