Stopping the tech train — or slowing it down

I recently purchased my very first brand-new laptop. As a 62-year-old professional writer with an aging desktop, it seemed like a necessary thing to do. These things are expensive, but the hardest part to deal with has less to do with cost and more to do with being able to keep up with changing technology. The series of questions asked of me just so I could get into this unfamiliar machine was daunting and painfully frustrating.

Passwords and accounts and questions about voice and locations and fingerprints and Siri, it’s a bit much for some of us over a certain age, especially those of us with little patience.

I openly admit to being technology-averse. I understand the benefits of it — I do — but, Lord Almighty, on some days I’ve found myself experiencing levels of irritation I never thought possible.

I thought, surely I can’t be the only one experiencing this.

When I recently needed to update my eyewear, I had a nice chat with the helpful staff person at the optometrist’s office where I had my new glasses fitted just right. As I was leaving the store and thanking the team for their excellent customer service, they asked if I would give them a Google Review. “You can just scan the QR code here to make it easier,” they said.

Now when I hear the words “QR code,” I can’t help but be reminded of a recent visit to a favourite restaurant in Osborne Village. When my partner and I sat down we wondered where the menus were. On each table sat a little stand, each one with a black and white symbol I’ve come to despise, and the words — you guessed it — QR code. All we needed to do was scan the code and the menu would magically appear on our phones.

As both of us feverishly tried to connect with this mysterious technology, each of us awkwardly waving our smartphones up and down and all around, I cringed with massive embarrassment, feeling incompetent and small. Both of us are relatively intelligent people and good problem-solvers but this, this QR code thing, was beyond us. We sat there hungry and increasingly defeated. We considered leaving as our unease grew. What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch out was turning into a bit of a nightmare.

Finally, I decided it was time to confront the owner with the truth.

We waved her over and I explained that as senior citizens we were unable to make sense of this QR code business and we’d reached the end of our ability to keep trying.

“We are both over 60,” I told her. “This technology is completely foreign to us and we’ve been attempting for several minutes to figure this out.”

“No problem,” she replied, as she grabbed my phone unfazed, connected to the QR code within seconds and there it was, the menu on my tiny smartphone.

“Thanks so much,” I told her, relieved.

But then we were left with having to order food through the phone.

We just weren’t prepared to do that. Not only was the print too small to see but the idea of having to scroll through pages to place a food order was just not going to happen if we wanted to maintain any level of civility.

The term hangry comes to mind. I may be vintage, but I do know some newer language terms. Hangry: bad-tempered as a result of hunger.

And what about those without smartphones, I wondered.

We called her over again and explained that this was too much of a challenge and could we just order the old-fashioned way?

Thankfully she agreed or our dining-out experience would have been a complete failure.

I never did give the optometrist office a Google Review, not only because of the QR code nonsense, but because when I tried to do it directly online I couldn’t figure out how to get into the Google Review account I’d opened years ago. Had I forgotten my password? Darn right I had. Just like my password to get into online banking, my credit card, my utilities, my CPP payments and every other account I now have to open just to be able to access products and services.

I don’t want another password or QR code, to have to make another list of new online accounts that will raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels. And I don’t want to have to deal exclusively with machines for some of our most important daily tasks.

Don’t get me started on the self-checkout lines in food and drug stores. I refuse to use them as a matter of principle. The other day I was given a scolding because I was told I should have been using the self-checkout line.

Surely the introduction of new technology should not justify the eradication of humans in the service industry. I really worry about getting old.

Janine LeGal is a freelance writer in Winnipeg.