At Home with Tech

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Laptop Time Machine

Boot up your computer, and it won’t be long till your past catches up with you. You’ve got some tough decisions to make!

Recently, I received a ‘hello’ through a social media site.
From someone I once knew thirty years ago.

Isn’t the web so amazing to facilitate such a moment?
And this potential micro-reunion from my past isn’t the only one I’ve received. Nor is it the most distant.
The one that takes the prize is from someone I once knew at my sleep-away camp when I was twelve.

How quaint.

Actually… it’s a little freaky.
How are you supposed to respond to these jolting moments that seemingly crack the very fabric of time?

Your past is back there for a reason.

Fate 1.0
But the concern over how to handle a potential virtual reunion doesn’t apply when fate brings you face-to-face with your past.

If you run into someone you once knew, you have to deal with it right there.

Say you go to your school reunion and realize a great new connection with someone you barely remember. That would be called serendipity, right?
(This actually just happened to me last month.)

Of course, the difference here is the face-to-face exchange is moderated by the human construct known as fate. You give yourself a lot of leeway when you feel fate may be pulling the strings.

Plus the real time interaction provides the platform for you to cognitively process this unlikely event. It’s a natural decompression chamber of sorts for your brain, allowing for the normal catch up process to occur.

It only takes a few seconds for your noggin to update its native ‘Friending app’ and bingo, you’re tickled with the realization you’ve just found yourself a new (old) friend.

But all of this can’t occur via the Web. That unlikely “How are you doing?” message of fifty-three characters from someone you once knew is poorly filtered by dated info locked in your brain’s basement.

It’s like a message in a bottle that washes up.
And that organic chip in your head can’t decide what to do with these words that simultaneously connect to both your past and present.

Your HAL freaks out!

Your Story will NOT be Televised
We all have a past. And unless, you’re running for public office, the availability of those details usually remains under your control.

Everyone’s personal history contains some detail you generally choose not to share with a broader audience. And so you don’t.
You’ve got that information tucked away in your head, and you move about the cabin of your life freely.

Then social networking sites popped up.
And all of us who never knew a world without this amazing resource are having their entire lives digitally documented.
Your relationships, friends, and activities…there for all to see.
And even if you ‘Unfriend’ someone or take down a photo, aren’t you a little concerned there’s always some digital trail?

Plus most everyone is now only a Google search away.

So moving forward, everyone will efficiently carry around their entire lives through their Facebook friends‘ list or whatever social network website is hot.

Conspiracy Theory 101
Some of my peers try really hard to stay out of the Web’s reach.
Yes, I think it’s a generational thing. They just don’t trust the Web.
All of these analog creatures have done just fine without their lives plastered over the Web. Why change a good thing?

They’ve got nothing to hide. (I don’t think.)
They just want to control your access to their personal data, which everyone else is apparently sharing freely online with the world.

Are you a TRANSITIONAL?
But there are also many of us who’ve lived through the old analog days and now have successfully made the transition. We’ve freely integrated the Web in our lives to communicate and share.

I think I’ll describe these folks as “Transitionals.”
Yes, I’m a card-carrying member… usually.
No, I’m not afraid to admit it.
(And you get great discounts at Dunkin’ Donuts.)

There is little more to say about how Facebook has already transformed our society. That said, I think Transitionals are a unique group of people who have quietly struggled with this mega social shift.

As a Transitional, you may pretend that you’re like everyone else.
Except you’re not.

You’ve got big time baggage that makes your Facebook experience unique.
It shouldn’t be a big deal to accept a Friend Request, right?
It’s supposed to be easy. But often, it’s not, because your past is a complicated place.

Forgotten, but Never Lost
Today’s younger generation will never experience losing touch with someone for decades.
Because every personal connection they’ve ever made will never be lost, however dormant that name may remain in their digital address book.

But a Friend Request sent to a Transitional can point way back into the 20th century. That inevitably forces a significant decision.

We Transitionals are the last of humanity who will experience the joy when a long lost friend ‘likes’ your online post or feel that low-grade nausea when a classmate from high school you barely tolerated wants to Friend you a quarter century later.

Micro Contact
Again, I hardly consider myself qualified to comment on Facebook’s impact on our society…
But what’s up with ‘liking’ something?

In the old days, you were in touch with someone, or you weren’t.
You made a phone call or you didn’t.
You sent a letter/email. Or not.

Now you can manage much of your communication these days with just one click of your mouse.
On the ‘like’ button.
No additional keys required.
Like.
like
LIKE!
Done. Time to get more coffee…

I never understood it.
But finally, I understand how clever it really is.
It takes no effort. It’s barely anything at all.
But it demonstrates your thumbs up. Support. Agreement.

And, of course, the amassing of ‘likes’ in our social media-centric society has huge value. It harnesses the great power of public opinion.
That’s true with global business brands, and on a smaller scale when someone posts a photo of their cat doing something cute.

It says that people are paying attention to you.

Genius.
Maybe time to buy some stock.

Fate 2.0
So I’m not sure how much of this helps with my dilemma of whether to reconnect with near-strangers from my distant past knocking on my virtual door with a little a Web hello.

Just because the Internet can easily bring back someone from your past, should you just click away and accept?

Perhaps you should at least acknowledge what life sends your way.
Anything otherwise would be disrespectful.
And besides, the concept of linear time is such a human concept.

Or maybe you delete the invite.
Because the lure of fate doesn’t apply when something so previously impossible is now so common.

Finally, don’t forget to ask yourself-
Is the totality of your past really a thing of your past for good reason?
Would you make the same choices?
Are you so sure?

Is your laptop a time machine?

There’s your answer.

Are You at Home without Tech?

Imagine if I were still figuring out a way to use my old Palm Pilot (shudder). Don’t try too hard….

A while back, I had a great catch-up coffee with a friend and former colleague. We reminisced about the good old days and compared some parenting notes. Then, I told him about this little blog. And how I was so focused lately about how to keep all the technology in my home life just working from one day to the next.

He said, “Oh, so it’s really “At Home without Tech.”

I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded.
Come to think of it, I’m talking precisely about that.
The fear of my tech not operating properly.
The frustration when I can’t figure it all out.
The embarrassment when my modest home of the future doesn’t have the latest and greatest.

While I sat there pondering the veracity of his suggestion, he started plotting his own theoretical counter blog with its suddenly very clever and relevant name.

At Home without Tech
How did I miss this?
“At Home without Tech” is really catchy.

It strikes both an ominous cord in your soul as well as a rebellious one. It taunts you every so often to throw your smartphone into the pond and hook up the horse and buggy lurking deep in your soul’s garage.

I could be writing about how I had failed to maintain my PalmOne Tungsten E2 organizer from the late ‘90s, forcing me to use my old pocket address book from the previous century.
(My father still swears by his.)

And then I realized I was still okay.

This blog isn’t for luddites. It’s for everyone who knows they can’t do without tech.
If you’re at home without tech, it’s a bad scene.
You need tech! You want tech!!

I write about everything it takes to NOT be at home without tech.
My blog ‘s branding is still on target.
Phew…

But I think my friend was actually on to something.
Deep down, we all have fears.
Fear of the unknown. Fear of death. Fear of bad sushi. Fear of no tech.

Whatever.

Digital Sisyphus
These fears are great motivators. They force us to take action to avoid bad juju.
And that’s oh-so-true when technology you rely on goes kerflooey.
Or when you’re too darn lazy to perform a software update on your wife’s computer.

Progress waits for no tech blogger.
I’d better keep up.

Because what would there be to write about if you’re at home without tech?

 

The Price of Staying Connected

Warning. This is not a drill. My iPhone will no longer function as a cell phone after crossing the Andes. Wi-Fi is my only lifeline to home. And it’s all my fault.

Previously….
In my last post, you may recall I was preparing to fly to Chile for a work project. My plan was to dumb down my iPhone and only rely on its Wi-Fi capability and use both Apple’s FaceTime and Skype to stay connected with my life in the northern hemisphere.
This is my story…

Not in Kansas Anymore
My Delta 767 has just touched down in Santiago.
Two hours late.
It’s the back-up plane. And what happened to my aircraft?
It had equipment problems and was pulled out of service.
The cause?
Its entertainment system wasn’t working.
Bummer.

I had scheduled my first meeting in Santiago with a two and a half buffer of flex time for me to chill out after I was to arrive at my hotel.
Unpack. Take a shower. Maybe go the bar and try a Pisco Sour.

But not anymore. It’s going to be tight. Really tight.

As I wait in line at customs, I turn on my iPhone, prepared to begin my little experiment. And suddenly it hits me.

I feel a shiver as the adrenaline shoots through my body. I’ve forgotten to forward my normal cell phone number to my new Skype Online Number.
D’oh!! It was the last thing I was supposed to do.
Rats.

So now I have a choice. Either leave my cell phone number behind for the week, or open up my device’s defense bubble and try to forward my cell phone number in an unfriendly roaming jungle.

Yes, I know I could live without knowing if anyone actually called my cell phone number while I was away, but I had worked so hard to put my plan in place.
I just had to know how it was all going to work.

It’s like building a rocket ship.
If you don’t go anywhere in it, what’s the point?

Cut to ninety minutes later.

I walk into my hotel room. That meeting is now twenty-five minutes away, and I haven’t showered in thirty hours after two flights totaling eleven hours.

Pop Quiz: What do you do? What do you do?!
Yeah, I forget common sense and instead pull out my iPhone to make the fix in search of truth.

I go to Airplane Mode and flick it off.
I feel like I’ve activated Skynet.

My phone immediately receives a Chilean carrier signal.
Ping!

It’s a text warning me about international charges. It’s like they were waiting for me.
I’m not sure how this is possible as I still have data functionality turned off.

No time to think. Must continue. Fast.

I go to the call forwarding section of Settings and turn Call Forwarding on.
My Skype Online Number is right there, still populating the field from my earlier testing.
I nervously flick it on.

The phone starts thinking…thinking…. Done.
There it is!

Ping!!
Another text. This one offers my phone a billion texts for a million pesos…or something.

OMG. My phone is under attack! The unknown text costs.!!

Everything starts to move in slow motion.
Must get phone back into Airplane Mode.

Five seconds later, I get the blast doors closed again.
Phew.

Now what?

It’s twenty-one minutes till my meeting.

Twenty-two minutes later I’m in the lobby.
Showered, shaved, and wearing fresh clothes.
I only got fours hours of sleep on the plane, but the fact that I am connected makes all the difference. I’m ready for the job.

Wi-Fi or Bust
And how did my wireless-less communications strategy perform?

First off, I’ve got to say I did feel a little impaired not having access to my full communications arsenal. I felt like I had gone back in time to 2005.

But with a little planning… the way things used to work, it wasn’t all that bad.

My wife and I set up a video chat in the morning and evening every day with our toddler.

Apple’s FaceTime worked perfectly on the hotel’s Wi-Fi network. Our toddler successfully negotiated time with my wife to share the chatting with me, an impressive new skill. (It’s all part of the sharing thing we’re teaching him.) I’m not sure that he understood why my face was in the screen, but he did say once “When going?”
Which I think reveals he understood that I was far away.
His use of ‘going’ probably meant ‘coming back.’. Very cool stuff.

I tried Skype video calling a couple times, but it didn’t seem to work. My wife never answered.

Where Skype really came in handy though was just making normal outbound calls.
As long as I was on the hotel’s Wi-Fi network, I was set.
And I was able to check my Skype Credit balance to confirm that in fact, my U.S./Canada calling plan covered these calls for free. All for that $2.99/month plan.
It wasn’t too good to be true after all. And I even received inbound calls on Skype.

Pièce de Résistance
Remember my call-forwarding hi-stress maneuver?
Yup. That worked too!
I received a critical voicemail that my work briefcase that was in repair was ready for pick up.
(Yes, the world is now safe again for another day.)
Hey, the point is, my little communications scheme worked like a charm.

Time to Pay the Piper
…Except for the lingering fact that I did have to turn on the wireless function the one time, totally against plan.
Deep down, I knew there would be damages.

As my airplane touched down on American soil in Atlanta on my way back to New York, I immediately released my caged iPhone and reactivated the wireless. It roared back to full functionality as if it never left.

My plane had arrived early, and we couldn’t deplane until U.S. Customs opened at 5:30am. (Good detail to remember when you’re flying on a red-eye.)

We had ten minutes to hang out. So I dialed 611 to talk to the AT&T operator and find out how successful my iPhone lock down had been.
Did I cleverly circumvent the traditional international calling payment structure or had I just rung up $300 in roaming fees?

The operator asked if I had set up an international plan.
No, I said with some small, lingering guilt.

There was a long silence as she looked up my account.
Yes, she confirmed. There was indeed a charge.

My heartbeat started to go up.
She wasn’t saying how much.

“For what?” I asked.

“Text messaging,” she replied calmly.

“How much?”

“Twenty-five cents.”

“Can you repeat that?”

“One international text message for twenty-five cents.”

Hmm. Must have been one of those marketing texts when I opened up the floodgates for the thirty seconds.

“Twenty-five cents? Okay. I can handle that….”
Click.

I know.
It’s kind of like being a baseball pitcher and missing a no hitter in the ninth inning.
But if being a parent of a toddler has taught me anything, an almost perfectly executed plan is something to really cheer about!

“Kirk to Enterprise”
I glowed with my little success, as I sat on my next plane headed to New York. Suddenly, I experienced a bonus jolt of mini joy as the rest of the passengers boarded.

I had previously forgotten that Skype video can work on 3G (4G) if the signal is strong enough. And now that my phone was back to normal, I called the ‘fam’ and did a Skype video chat right on the plane.

I felt I was back in time in the ‘60’s in the middle of a science fiction movie about the 1990’s.

There was my boy looking around the plane as I described everything to him.

His face filled the screen.
“Ooooh,” he cried out.

Twenty-five cents?
Priceless.