Wiped Out by Technology

I’m too dumb for smart technology. I’ve had a series of technology-related incidents in which I lost the war against the machines.

In March, I had to watch a YouTube video on how to reset the clock on my car’s dashboard display for Daylight Saving Time. In early April, I had to reboot my television after a blackout, during which I had to log back into my streaming services and re-enter all the passwords, or, in most cases, create new ones for HBO Max, Amazon, Disney+, Paramount+, basically all the pluses.

Side note: It’s so frustrating when I create a new password and the computer is like, “You’ve already used that one before,” and I’m all, “Then, you know it’s me!”

But I digress, like I do. In the old days, all you had to do was turn the television back on, and you were done!

P.S. I had a second incident with the TV when the batteries in the remote ran out, and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off without getting up, going to the battery drawer, grabbing some triple As, and replacing them. P.P.S. There was no other way.

Recently, I hit a new low in my rage against the machines.

Weeks ago, I went to the car wash. Halfway through the sudsy cycle, I looked up from my phone and noticed that my windshield wipers were on. The car is programmed to turn on the wipers when raindrops hit it. I don’t need that. I can turn on my wipers when I see rain. Thanks, but no thanks.

I had to quickly turn them off, as they were getting stuck on that big floppy curtain of hanging, ribbon-like cloth, AKA the flaps. I left the car wash and met up with a friend at a local Panera.

Additional side note: My mom gave me my Panera card. When it’s time to pick up my sandwich, I have to answer to the name Georgann. Ironically, I was there with my friend Drew, whose sandwich was under his wife’s name.

When I was leaving Panera, it started to rain. I turned on my wipers, but there were no wiper blades attached. The flaps tore the blades right off the car. The next dry day, I drove to my local mechanic, and he put on new wiper blades.

I told this story to another friend. She said, “I smell a column,” which is something my friends say whenever something weird or ridiculous happens to me, which is more often than you’d think.

I told her, “This is embarrassing.”

She said, “Has that ever stopped you before?”

I wasn’t going to share this story. Today, however, I went to the car wash, and there was a brand-new sign that read: “We are not responsible for your automatic wiper blades.”

Clearly, I’m not the only person who has experienced this. I’m sure they didn’t print a sign just for me.

The timing, however, is suspicious.