There was a time I feared I would never get the hang of anything technical. In fact, when I bought my first computer 11 years ago, it stayed in boxes for months. I had signed up for a writing class, though, and would need Microsoft Word. Forced into the 20th century, I got "with it," even learning to use E-mail.
     But now, it’s a whole new ballgame. BlackBerrys . . .iPods . . . what the heck does Nano mean? It’s freshman Algebra all over again—everyone else understands the lingo while I languish in a state of confusion.
     When Cingular offered my husband and me a good deal on new phones last year, we grabbed it and stopped at one of their stores to learn the basic operations. We felt smart as whips until our granddaughter visited and pointed out we have cameras and the opportunity to text message. Yikes! I’m a two-fingered keyboardist. How would I ever learn to text? I told her I’d never use all the features. She shrugged her shoulders and let out a huge sigh; all the while, eyeing the new Nokia covetously.
     To be honest, I’ve barley mastered my land line. Just the other day, I tried to determine what happened to Super America’s check that I accidentally enclosed with my mortgage payment. Maneuvering my way through the finance company’s voice messaging system proved daunting. I was lost in another world as the recording instructed me to press one if whatever and two if something else. I snapped to attention when I was told to stay on the line if I have a rotary phone. That seemed like a good idea until a new litany began. "Press one for . . ." I yearned for a human voice.
     And thought of a long-playing record my younger brother had years ago (back in the day of rotary phones) before automated recordings were made by pretend employees. Gathered around the hi-fi in our living room, my family laughed as a comedian named Shelley Berman told about placing a telephone call to a utility company. We guffawed as he relived being transferred from one department to another, forced to repeat his story to each new person at the other end. I wonder what Mr. Berman would have to say about today’s new-fangled phone systems. Not to mention paying utility bills online, shopping via the Internet and communication by keyboard. Talk about comedy.
     Recently, I purchased a new soup and pasta pot. When I told the sales clerk my very expensive old cauldron was scratched and I feared metal poisoning, she gave me the manufacturer’s brochure and pointed to the online address. The thought of tirade by typing made me worry. Could I convey how VERY disappointed I am? Would I find the words to convince them I had taken EXTREMELY good care of the product?
     I had little faith in my ability to present my case via E-mail and searched for the company’s telephone number. I spoke with a pleasant and sympathetic woman who assured me I did, indeed, sound like someone who would have given loving attention to my Calphalon kettle. She instructed me on the correct procedure to return the lifetime-guaranteed product. We chatted awhile. I thought about inviting her for Thanksgiving dinner.
     For me, that’s what it boils down to: personal connections. Something you can’t make with voicemail, E-mail, and Instant Messaging. Give me good old-fashioned conversation any day. Even if it means being transferred from one person to another.