The Gizmo Gods Hate Me

What is it about electrical things that turns my knees to jelly? I must be the only person in the world who thinks cell phones are going to nuke him. Actually there are stories abroad in the land that they do just that, so perhaps my fears are justified.

I must admit that I have a cell phone in my car for emergencies, except I can't make it work! I'm hopeless. It gives me many, many options, and therein lies the difficulty -- I don't want options I just want to phone Wendy and tell her I'm running a bit behind. Why can't I handle gadgets that are electrically driven?

We pay a fortune for cablevision, and the TV isn't on an hour a month unless Tiger is playing (notice how dull golf is without him?), or for some news story. It's a huge waste of money, mostly because I can't make the damned thing work. I turn it on and am immediately faced with options. Being naturally in a state of panic, I make the wrong choice and all hell breaks loose. I can't get a picture or sound, and I call the Shaw cable help line, where, I'm told, they draw straws at the sound of my voice. Wendy and I have DVDs dating back, unopened, to Christmas three years ago, and they'll likely stay that way.

Apple in my eye

Speaking of help lines, I think the folks at Apple are even braver than those at Shaw cable, as they walk me through, one more time, how to register an iPod or deal with a problem. When I reach someone (usually in P.E.I. or Newfoundland), there is a hideous half shriek of recognition when I say I'm Rafe. I'm probably Apple's version of the LSAT for getting into law school -- get Rafe on his way, and your probation period is up. But it's not all my fault, don't you see? First off, they want the serial number of the iPod, which is so small that one must put the machine under a strong magnifying glass to read it. The number is, of course, visible on the screen of the iPod but since not seeing the screen is my problem, it rather begs the question.

The Internet and e-mail are a bundle of laughs at Mair Manor. Mine are always on the fritz it seems. Patiently, the man from Shaw takes me to the modem and has me pulling wires from the socket and putting them back in, then moves me to the "Linksys" for a similar exercise. Sometimes this doesn't work, so I'm asked where the switch on the modem is set: on or off? "What switch... oh that switch! Um, never mind."

Like many writers, I get brilliant ideas when I can't write them down. I was told, "Get yourself a neat little pocket recorder from Panasonic." So I did. That was three months ago and I still look at it and stare at the instructions, frozen into inactivity. I can't bring myself to overcome inertia and put the first move on it.

Flight worthy?

I think we're wrong to refer to these infernal nuisances as inanimate objects. For some people, they are indeed alive and they take pleasure out of torturing certain people. Such as me.

Here is my final proof. When I fly, which is often, it's almost a dead certainty that the in-flight entertainment won't work, or if it does work, will fail mid-movie. Sometimes it's only my seat that's affected, sometimes Wendy's too, sometimes it's the whole cabin.

My conclusion is that electrical things are alive for certain people -- if you're taking a long flight and can't wait to see a movie, check the passenger manifest, and if one Kenneth Rafe Mair I is aboard, make other arrangements.

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