Feeling out-of-date. OK, I am 66 years old but pretty active and healthy except for a recent bout of loud humming in my ears. I told my doctor that I heard humming in my ear and he responded "Any particular tune? Classic rock or classical?" Oh, ha, ha. Nothing he could do for it.
Then I went to a lab to have a blood test (yearly physical). They had a kiosk set up with a sign saying "Sign in here". Then I was supposed to type in my name and birth date. No problem, right? Well, it kept timing out and taking me back to the first introductory screen. I was getting really frustrated because I learned to type in high school and can certainly fill out my name and birth date, but this blankety blank application was driving me crazy! The receptionist (you know, the person who is usually paid to simply take down such information when you arrive most places) said in a dead pan voice "Sir, are you having problems?" I responded that I was about ready to throw the kiosk across the waiting room and that sometimes high tech takes longer than simply writing down your name and birth day on a piece of paper! The room of people waiting burst into APPLAUSE and LAUGHTER (Supportive, not at my expense). So the receptionist lowered herself to actually take down my information. Geez! But then later I watched other people come in. I realized that many people would not face the evil malice of this kiosk because they had fancy iphones. They simply waved their phone over the kiosk and I guess the information was automatically populated for them. OMG. I felt so out-of-date. I have a cell phone that belongs in the Smithsonian. It is still the flip type from the early 90's that William Shatner would have found nifty in the original Star Trek. Maybe I need to move up to the 21st century?
Otherwise, life in Phoenix as a retired guy is pleasant. It is already in the high 90's outside, but as we all say "But it is a DRY heat". As one tourist responded "Yeah, but so is a furnace!" LOL I am going to watch some lectures by Tom Campbell online. He came up with a "theory of everything" based on decades of work with Robert Monroe, the OBE pioneer. My golden retriever keeps bringing me toys, letting me know it is my duty to play with him. So my dog acts as an occasional commercial break.
