By ACE ROBISON
I’ve never been comfortable with computers. I use them—but I don’t like them. I’m told computers make my life easier and better. I don’t believe it! Rather, I believe computers bring out the worst in people.
So recently as I was doing the errands of the day, my wife Jennifer asked me to stop by the local Walmart store to have one of our recent wedding photographs printed from her iPad. When I got to the store a technician was working on the computers. I asked if the computers were in working order and was assured they were.
Now I must add, the computer tech was the very image of a stereotypical computer nerd. Tall, lanky, angular, and lurched slightly when he walked. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were somewhat out of balance when he looked at you, and his face had a slightly wild look about it. But he was helpful as I worked through the painful, for me, process of downloading the photograph into Walmart’s computer so they could print it out for me.
My newly found computer nerd friend had by this time told me he didn’t work for Walmart but was a contractor for Fuji, the company that supplied the computer systems to Walmart. As I found the picture JennIfer wanted and called it to the screen my nerdy friend observed that it was a very professional-looking photograph. I told him my daughter-in-law would be pleased to hear that because she had taken the picture. With that I downloaded the photo and sent it into the computer netherworld to be printed. My nerdy friend advised me that it would take the computer about an hour to do its job. Since I was the only one there I wondered why it should take an hour for the computer to do a fairly simple task—computers being so fast at what they do, don’t you see???
Nevertheless, I went away to entertain myself in the merchandise aisles jammed with stuff that exemplify Walmart. After about 30 minutes of Walmart boredom I returned to the photo department to see if, by chance, the computer had done its work faster than expected. It had not and I was rather sternly admonished by the nerd that it had not yet been an hour. I sheepishly acknowledged as much and returned to the overloaded aisles of Walmart. This time I wandered through the grocery section pushing a shopping cart into which I had placed a few totally unneeded items since I didn’t want to look like a wandering weirdo. Since I’m always fascinated with food I lingered among the foodstuffs longer than expected before returning to the photo department. By now nearly an hour and a half of my afternoon had been wasted.
I returned to the photo department and asked the Walmart employee behind the counter for my photograph. She retrieved it and was about to hand it to me when my ubiquitous and nerdy friend from Fuji walked up to say they couldn’t release the photograph to me. It seems the photo “looked too professional” so Walmart needed the written consent of the photographer. I was stunned. I reminded him that I had told him earlier that the picture had been taken by my daughter-in-law. I added that I was sure she would be pleased to learn that her photography was good enough to be taken for professional but that she is not professional and the photograph indeed belongs to me with all the copyrights that may be appertaining thereto.
Mr. Nerd was not to be dissuaded however and the obviously embarrassed Walmart employee was not inclined to intervene. After a few more words of frustration I walked away and left the store. I had only gotten a few steps outside when the thought came to me, “This is just too bizarre. I’m going to go back and talk to a manager.” Which I did.
Manager Rod introduced himself as the “Front-end Zone Supervisor” and to his credit, he looked like a manager. I told him my story and watched his face fill with disbelief. I assured him that I agreed it seemed quite unbelievable but it had indeed just happened and that the transaction in question amounted to the vast sum of $2.80. Rod apologized to me profusely stating emphatically that “Walmart does not treat our customers that way.”
He again, as graciously as he could, apologized and took my name and phone number, reassuring me that he would see to the matter immediately and call me. I thanked him and left the store.
I had not quite gotten home a few minutes later when my cellphone rang. It was Rod explaining that he had just finished a “thorough reaming” of the Fuji guy and had also chastised his Walmart employee for not having intervened on behalf of a customer. He reminded both of them that Walmart has a “copyright policy” and that this circumstance doesn’t fit the policy. Rod urged me to come back saying he would “make it right”. While I’m not a big fan of Walmart I was very impressed with Rod’s determined level of customer support.
So, what does all this have to do with my avowed and determined dislike for computers and technology? I’m certainly well aware of the thousands of benefits that we derive from these electronic miracles. I’m also of the certain opinion that these are pernicious machines which dehumanize our race and strip us of what was once generally understood as mere common sense and human decency.
They tend to elevate socially misfit nerds to a totally undeserved status of power and give us a generation of adolescents and teenagers who are incapable of communicating without looking at their hands while they move their thumbs and fingers at near speed of light.
So there you have it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it—until someone convinces me otherwise.
