The numerically modest but regular readers of these
posts will know that – apart from my little Googley blog here - I am not much
evident in the brave new world where one does not exist unless posting selfies
online every 15 minutes. I am, however, grateful to those who take a look now
and again and those extras who seek me out whenever one of my current affairs
letters is published in national newspapers (and occasionally the press abroad).
I know – letters – how old-fashioned is that? HOWEVER – even I got a severe case of that-was-weird when I encountered some
Google younglings or googlings last week. If you haven’t ever watched The Stepford
Wives you should, the original freak-you-out 1975 version with Katharine Ross. And
then imagine what Stepford Children would be like because I think I met some.
As I am about to put forth another book (you know with a cover and pages and words on a page that take longer to read
than 13 seconds and with no pictures) I took up a free course offer at the
pop-up google ‘garage’ shop here in Edinburgh. It was a beginner’s online
marketing course. I felt it might be a waste of time as I suspected
everything would revolve around instagram, facebook, twitter and youtube vlogging.
While I have a couple of short performance poems on you tube and a couple of
Goodreads clips I am not social media ‘present’. I was very pleasantly
surprised to find, however, that not all the information was irrelevant to me
and I didn’t know quite as little as I thought I did. Not that that bar was
particularly high. Though everyone had a chuckle when I had to admit to not
owning a smartphone (see last week’s post).
The 90 minutes was well spent. The course leader
managed to whip through a lot of information in that short amount of time AND
answer quite a few questions AND prevent one business duo from monopolising the
session. I left feeling my hour and a half had not been wasted but was keener
to take advantage of the promised 30 min 1-1 session you could book if you
attended one of the set courses.
That was when things started to get weird.
Firstly, I realised the following day that I’d left
my specs there. I could not find a number for the shop but found an email which
I used but which went unanswered (and has still not been answered). I returned
to the shop in a panic. As I walked through the door I spotted the nice young woman
who had done the course and several other young googlings sitting brightly at
one of the stylish minimalist tables (I really liked the furniture and decor).
At least four of them half rose and sent full-on beam dazzling smiles in my
direction and my previous course leader inquired if I was coming to try another
course. Before the single syllable ‘N’ word was completely out of my mouth ALL the beams
were switched off like someone just tripped a switch. Then heads, bodies,
shoulders turned away. They were like cyborgs with only two settings. I did
manage to snare a young googling of Asian appearance with slightly more complex
reactions and asked about my specs. She seemed confused, she asked someone else.
It was as if I’d called into a vegan outlet enquiring about rare steak (I’m vegetarian
but you get my drift). Maybe, I surmised, googlings never need glasses! The specs were there – thank goodness - as I cannot afford
to replace them any time soon. HOWEVER, the specs case had both my name and
telephone number in the lid in large clear black letters. Why had no one
thought to ring/text?
The very pleasant young Asian-style earth googling –
she with the delayed turn-off switch – repeated the question about registering
for another course. (Maybe she was on replay!) I remembered that my original
motivation for doing a first course was to get the 1-1 half hour with someone
who might answer specific questions for this old Luddite. I asked about booking
my precious 30 minute session and stood next to her while she opened up the
availability programme, showed me what was free, took my details and booked me
in there and then. While I watched. I was sure I could feel body heat and detect breathing...
Fantastic. I had my specs and I had my 30 minute
session.
The next time I opened my email, while there was still no
reply to my query, there was an automated message telling me my attempt to book
the 30 minute 1-1 session had failed (!) but if there was a cancellation I
would receive an email to that effect.
Hey ho. Just another indicator that the online world is not pour moi.
But a disturbing thought niggled me. Many times
I’ve written on this blog about the dehumanising effects of IT and many folk my age worry
about the future of AI and its effects on humanity. I have to say, artificial
intelligence incapacitating humans was not what was freaking me out after my
encounter with the googlings. It was the uncanny similarity to well oiled robots displayed
by those apparently human youngsters…