It isn't progress that's hurting us so much these days. It's the side effects.
A buddy of mine would be better off in a fall-out shelter when his hyperactive grandchildren pop in for a visit. The whole house goes topsy-turvy.
He can handle the noise. He can handle the mess. What he can't handle is the scavenger hunt that ensues when his grandson takes the remote control for his television set and hides it. A cell phone you can always find. Just dial your number and follow the ring.
But a remote control device? You may as well visit the dealership and pick up another.
In this delirious world of electronics, perhaps my friend is better off. I've come to think of remotes as devices that are more intelligent and sophisticated than the people who try to use them. I may be a little crazy at times, but I'm not stupid. So tell me, why does it take a scientific miracle to figure the darn thing out?
Just looking at the remote and trying to solve all the options can send your mind into delirium. The other night following a recent visit from the installer, I sat on my sofa totally buffaloed. Much as I tried, I could not get the TV to come on. Where was my 4-year-old grandson when I needed him?
Maybe I was pushing the wrong buttons. Perhaps I should have resorted to the manual. I hate manuals. In many cases, you need an engineering degree to figure out the instructions.
By 11, I was at my wit's end. If I called it a night and went to bed, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. A troubled mind only leads to insomnia. So I called for help. They put me on hold with all the other insomniacs.
Finally, I get a technician. Whether it was her accent or the technological vocabulary she used, I couldn't understand much.
"M'am," I said, my patience wearing thin, "I cannot turn my TV on. And I'm not going to sleep until this problem is resolved. Go ahead, trouble-shoot me."
She put me through the mill. I'm supposed to get the latest Hollywood movies by the simple flick of a finger, history, nature, TV entertainment that would explode on my screen. Music to beat the band. Premium channels. The cutting edge.
Nothing.
I don't need 200 channels, but that's what the package called for. That's what I was going to get. Although all I needed was to get a picture so I could rest in peace.
Twenty minutes later, sidetracked by a couple of outside referrals, she was still trying to set my situation straight. She exercised patience. Mine was already exhausted.
Then finally, a solution rose. She had me power off the VCR and the DVD players and presto! Just like that. On came the television.
Now why the two players had anything to do with the television coming on was beyond me. It also puzzled the technician, who could offer no logical explanation other than to say, "Sometimes they don't see eye-to-eye."
"You mean to tell me they're rivals?" I volunteered.
"Electronics is a strange business," she tried explaining. "Sometimes, the answers don't come easy. Glad we were able to get the problem resolved. Will there be anything else this evening?"
Off to bed I went.
Now I've become paranoid. I'm afraid to watch the movies I've rented. I pick up the remote and turn on the TV, not to watch anything, but just to make sure that the TV comes on.
I am not alone in this dilemma. Many of my colleagues are stumbling over science and wish they were back to the days of yesteryear when TVs were a simplified matter.
All these home improvements and push buttons designed to save time and energy only seem to be complicating matters. Please let me survive this Efficient Age.
I now have four remotes sitting on my set. One is for the DVD player. Another for the VCR. I have two others from my cable company ... the one with the ever-changing name.
If there any chance I could get the hang of all this hullaballoo?
Remote possibility.
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Photographer and writer Tom Vartabedian is retired from The Haverhill Gazette. He contributes this regular column.
