(Warning: this column contains allusions to the olden days)
Being smug is not a good characteristic, and being annoyed because someone doesn’t get it is even worse.
It’s payback time for technology and e-call forwarding buttons, hold buttons, and desk phones with buttons for different lines. Older folks — often men — would curse at the perversity of these new-fangled phones while I smugly tried to show them how they worked.
Later on, I worked at the House of Commons when new-fangled word processors were being introduced. Xerox something or other, I think. Part of my job was to encourage staff in MPs’ offices to learn the new tech, adapt to it quickly, and adopt it as a useful tool for communicating with constituents.
My patience got a very good workout that year, although I had several strains in my relationships that took some time to heal. Being smug is not a good characteristic, and being annoyed because someone doesn’t get it is even worse.
I’ve always enjoyed learning and using new tech (Commodore 64 onwards). However, I’ve now discovered that there are, indeed, limits to this enjoyment and even to my ability to adapt. The rock on which I’ve foundered is Quick Response (QR) codes.
QR codes were invented as a way of tracking automobile parts, which I’m sure is an entirely appropriate use for them. But somehow they have migrated and mutated to everyday communications as a mysterious shortcut to a website.
Those stupid little squares with squigglies and other things that are now ubiquitous are the technological banes of my life as a senior. I’ve tried to figure out their secrets and failed dismally.
At first I would position my iPad (my screen of choice) over top. I would try to stop my hands shaking from my medications long enough to bring up the link that the QR code supposedly represents. Then I would try to hold the iPad steady with one hand while the other hand would tap on the link.
Frequent failures resulted. It was even more frustrating when the manufacturers or the advertisers or – for shame! – governments couldn’t be bothered to show the URL or the URL shortcut for the website so I could at least enter it manually.
Obviously the iPad was not the tool of choice when faced with a QR code. So I switched to my smartphone. Issues continued to plague me and were even compounded due to arthritic fingers and less than ideal eyesight.
I really do not like using my phone as a means of communication or research into things like, let’s say, a menu. Or a link to a website to give a review. Or a link to some important information on an outdoor location where fingers and eyesight compete with bright daylight on a tiny little screen for the title of biggest obstacle to effective communication.
It’s very funny to read a digital newspaper where an ad appears saying ‘screen this code’ with no other information, or when watching TV. How many devices does one person need to find out what is being advertised? And it’s very sad that the Yukon Government chose to stop publishing its lovely and useful little booklet on artist locations. Now all you get is a piece of paper with — you guessed it—– a QR code on it.
It’s not just seniors affected by this new elitism. There are people who don’t have access to smartphones or who don’t use them or who can’t afford them. McLuhan said, “the medium is the message” and the message I get from an over-reliance on QR codes is that a large group of people simply don’t count to that advertiser or communicator.
The more channels you use the more people you can reach, including older adults.
I think of hubris as shorthand for “it serves you bloody well right”. Or, to put it another way, it’s payback time.
So, to all those people who I kind of looked down upon in my techno-enthusiastic youth, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. And to advertisers and communicators, please remember that the more channels you use, the more people you can reach, including older adults.
