John Hult
This week I’d like to address a serious problem that seems to affect more people than care to admit it.
Technology addiciton.
We’re not talking about shooting up with a USB cable, but it’s close. Real close.
Just as the ads for Best Buy would allude to, people (mostly lonely men or bored married men) like to play with stuff. People like shiny things with shiny buttons. People like flashing lights.
I myself must admit that the technology addiction monster has reared its expensive head in my direction in a major way. In the worst way, actually.
I am not like those engineering majors who took apart their mom’s toaster at the age of six and built a computer out of it. I never took anything apart. I wouldn’t have known how to put it back together, for one thing. Actually, I wouldn’t have been able to take it apart in the first place. This illustrates why I am the worst kind of technology addict.
I know nothing. Really. I can barely hook up the speakers to my stereo.
Another thing moron technology addicts have in common is their insistence on being a part of the conversation whenever anyone starts talking tech. We don’t know anything, but damn it we like the shiny fun stuff, too.
This is how it starts for tech addiction. You go from liking the look of techno gadgets and trying your best not to break them to knowing just enough to operate them.
And then you wish you had something else.
This is the main problem with technology addiction. As this lust for the newest, biggest, strongest, fastest, best-looking peice of electronic equipment that is offered is a powerful force, one capable of destroying entire paychecks before you can say “upgrade.”
I bought a Macintosh about nine months ago?Macintosh because its “user-friendly” environment is much closer to “idiot-proof” than your average PC. And of course, they look much cooler.
I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but this simple purchase sent me into a rapid downward spiral into excessive tech-love.
I blame Apple for part of it. Nearly every time I visit their Web site, an iPod jumps out at me. Its appearance alone is like a narcotic, but its taglines are like Hellraiser hooks yanking my every weak consumerist character flaw with military precision.
“1,000 songs. In your pocket.”
The thought alone makes me start to drool.
Magazines like Maxim and FHM don’t help, either. In addition to be stuffed full of half-naked beautiful ladies, most of these magazines are full of gagets and gizmos that get me in touch with my inner Homer Simpson.
“Oooh … portable DVD players.”
Last week I finally bought the iPod that Michelle Rodriguez has been caressing herself with in my dreams for the past year or so. Until now, the holy grail of tech love had been too expensive. But last week, I had one. Ye-yah.
And guess what. It didn’t even work. It took an hour on the phone with an Apple support guy to figure out that my product had a factory defect. Damn.
And the store didn’t have another 5GB model in stock. Curses! Foiled again!
I suppose the moral of the story is not new. Money cannot buy happiness. The iPod debaucle was just more proof. But will this setback keep me from wasting money on crap I don’t need? Of course not.
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