I got a letter the other day. In the mail. It was a nice letter. It was mixed in with all the bills (the ones we don’t get electronically), the promotional flyers, the incessant requests for donations, and the magazines. I almost missed it.
I also got a few cards in the mail, for Father’s Day. I saw them easily because they were shaped differently than the bills. Getting cards is nice, especially the square ones that stand out. I like that they can be displayed on the counter; you can’t do that with electronic messages.
| Where’s the phone? |
These clearly are the exceptions to today’s rule of electronic communication. Nowadays, rarely
does anything of value come in the mail. It’s all via email or online. True this saves paper, but are we happier having all this technology at our fingertips?
Technology was limited when I was young, of course. When I was a kid and I rode my bike somewhere, my parents gave me a watch and told me to be home at a certain time. If I was outside playing, they called my name. In neither case did they call my cell phone. Nor did they text me. And we survived.
My first 20 years in business were spent without a computer. The only electronic gadgets I had were the telephone, of course, because back then people actually talked to each other, and a Dictaphone so I could record my thoughts while I was away from the office.
My secretary, a title upgraded to ‘administrative assistant’ at some point along the way, although I’m not sure why, would transcribe my thoughts with something called a typewriter. That was electronic too and considered to be very advanced. It even had a tape in it that could “auto-correct” if she made a mistake (although she had to re-type the mistake and then type the correct letters, so I’m not sure how “auto” it was). My secretaries rarely made mistakes of course. I was very lucky, they were terrific: Helen (who gave me a 1971 JFK 50¢ piece in a clear paperweight, which I still have on my desk), Lydia, Peggy and Dorothy.
Other than the typewriter and Dictaphone, my secretaries were also armed with the multi-purpose “steno-pad” on which they wrote what I dictated to them, in some hieroglyphic shorthand that they went to school to learn. It allowed them to keep up with me word for word. I doubt any schools teach that anymore.
I think for the most part the older generation has a hard time with technology. A good friend forwarded me an email from an older gentleman, and his thoughts kind of sum up how our seniors feel about all this:
“My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.”
That’s a little extreme, because technology has afforded us all kinds of opportunities, to me best described as “instant communication”. In the old days, the only instant communication was either a face-to-face conversation, which I actually had today with a co-worker, or calling someone on the phone. Someone did call me recently, but in general when the phone rings I jump out of my chair. I usually only get texts and emails.
One great thing with technology today is that you can see photos seconds after they’re taken, which is great for grandparents but bad for Congressmen. The worst part, as some of you may have read in this column once before, is that we rarely talk to each other any more.
We certainly are better off with some of the technological advances at our fingertips. Instant communication makes us more informed, more aware, more entertained. But I’m not sure it makes us smarter. So I have a proposal. After you read this, do two things: first, the next time you want to contact someone, pick up the phone and call them; and second, stand up, starting walking and go say hi to someone face to face. It’ll make you feel better.
