Gadgets

I admit it, I am the gadget geek in our family. But it’s not my fault, because I inherited the Grant Gadget Genes © (not really copyrighted, but it should be) from my Dad. He is the patriarch of the gadget genes. It does run in the family; my brother just sent me a message from his new wireless Ipod. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. But he has way more money than me.

I can’t remember exactly when I really owned these genes, but they are in full bloom now. Troy and I have a standing joke that if I die before he does, he won’t know how to fix computer stuff etc. I have more gadgets than he does; I have a PDA, he still uses a good old fashioned Dayrunner. The thing about the gadget genes is that they force me to want to keep up with technology. Not to the point that I have to upgrade all my gadgets constantly, but I keep my eye on what is out there.

For instance, I recently got a new phone for 10€ all because I always check the Vodafone publicity that comes in the mail. When I saw that I had enough points (and a 20€ euro credit) I jumped on the chance. Now my phone has a camera (it even films video, which even I think is a bit excessive) and will play MP3’s. At least my gadget genes have not cancelled out my cheapskate genes.

My views on gadgets are simple: If I don’t need it, I don’t want it. Some people, who shall remain unnamed, take the view: “I want it if I don’t need it.”

In fact, I have only held Heather’s palm pilot a handful of times. The most “techie” I get is in figuring out how to use an alarm clock. When I was in the States recently, I stayed in someone’s guest room. They provided a clock-radio. I noted it was set to the time, breathed a sigh of relief that I did not have to figure out how to set it and spoke to it nervously: “Stay, clockie. Good, clockie. Be nice, clockie.” I pulled out my travel alarm clock, grateful that it was already set and went to bed, thoroughly jet-lagged.

Midnight hit and “Night Moves” by Bob Seeger and the Silver Bullet Band blared out in full volume. Apparently, the alarm had been turned on but not set to any particular time yet. I scrambled out of bed in such a fashion that would make both Jerry Lewis and Jim Carrey envious, trying to turn the darn thing off. I couldn’t even figure that out! In the end, I followed the cord and attempted to unplug it from the extension cord. Still, no luck; the two seemed glued together. Finally I reached under the bed and pulled the extension cord out of the socket with such force that I could have easily taken the outlet with it.