Technology I can follow

            All I wanted to do was adjust the clock in my car. After having some mechanical work done, the time read out was off, so I thought it would be rather easy to reset the clock.

            After pressing every knob and then holding in two buttons simultaneously, I gave up. I had to research my car on the Internet to find out how to adjust a clock that, on an old-fashioned timepiece, is as simple as pulling out a knob.

            Technology hasn't simplified our life – it's complicated it beyond belief. 

            Take, for instance, turning a television on and off. I don't want to go back to the days when our remote was my dad yelling for one of us to go change the channel. But today's TVs are overly complicated.

            Our current TV set up requires three different remote controls – one to turn the TV on and change the channel, one to work the DVD player and one for the cable.

            Sure I could get one universal remote control, but that means I'd have to learn how to use a remote control all over again, and I've gotten quite adept at balancing the three so I can quickly watch reruns of "The Andy Griffith Show."

            Making a doctor's appointment isn't easy either. On the phone, I have to go through at least six recorded prompts before I talk to a person. Do I want the call in English, do I want to make an appointment, and my favorite, am I experiencing an emergency – to which I'm supposed to hang up and dial 911.

            Let's face it, nobody would dial the main number while bleeding profusely and then when the 911 prompt comes up, whack themselves in the head and say "why didn't I think of that?"

            When it comes to the kitchen, simple is out. Shrimp was on sale last week, so I bought a pound, remembering I'd seen broiled shrimp on a menu recently and thought it might be easy to cook at home.

            Back home, I searched online and all the recipes called for fresh chopped parsley and green onions. I didn't pick those up in the grocery store. I just picked up shrimp. Then they wanted me to add dry mustard. I thought mustard came in a yellow squeeze bottle.  

            So I ended up doing what I always do – peel the shrimp, melt some butter in a pan, cook 'em until they're no longer pink and then season with Tony Chachere's.

            And the list goes on. On our new vacuum cleaner, it took me 10 minutes to find the on and off switch because it was buried in a sea of fancy buttons.

            When shopping for a new washing machine, high-end models had digital displays worthy of a NASA control center. We settled for the basic push-in-the-knob wash, rinse and spin model.

            I don't want to record six different shows at a time or a menu that looks like something NASA would whip up in its test kitchens. I don't want a dozen different selections for washing bath towels. And I certainly don't need 10 different settings for vacuuming a living room rug.

            I just want simple.      

            My friend, Karl Baumgartner, has an easy solution for handling the pesky details in life, starting with the clock in his vehicle. He never changes the time when daylight savings time rolls around because, he said, for half the year, the time is correct and he doesn't have to do a thing. The other half of the year, he always gets where he's going early.

            The next time daylight savings time rolls around, I think I'll follow Karl's advice. Simple and easy. Now that's technology I can follow.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.