Pushing Buttons

My uncle called me the other day with another in a long line of his "type of stories." These stories have one of three themes:

1. All this technology has created less knowledgeable people.
2. The quality of service has left the business world.
3. No one knows how to do anything except push buttons.

This third theme has its own codicil that states, "And they don't even understand why they are pushing the buttons."

Now before I continue, let me make one thing very clear. My uncle is not like Bartlett Finchley, a man late in life locked in a death struggle with machines and new technology. He is a scientist and a holder of 15 U.S. patents in the area of plastics and packaging. The fact that you can take a frozen entree out of the freezer and cook it in either the microwave or the oven without the plastic tray melting is in great part due to his brilliance.

He just hates when technology makes us stop thinking for ourselves.

When this current call came through I steeled myself for another tale of frustration, one that was sure to include a person unable to do their job because they didn't really know what their job entails. I was wrong, very wrong, delightfully wrong.

"Let me tell you what happened to me today."

(steeling myself) "Go ahead."

"I came out of the mall and I guess the battery in my keyless remote died. The car door would not open."

"Uh huh"

"I have one of those pads on the door as well. But I could not remember my code. So I was trying to call Chrysler roadside assistance to get the code."
Now it was at this point that my John Dorian-like daydreaming capabilities took over and I could see my uncle calling information and yelling into his cell phone in the noisy parking lot , "Chrysler! Chrysler!" only to have the automated operator asking him "Krispy Kreme, is that right"

"No, Chrysler!"

My fantasy was broken when my uncle said "As the number for Chrysler was ringing do you know what I realized?"

"That you were holding a key to the car?"

"Yes! When did you realize that?"

"When you told me the remote's battery would not open the door."

We talked some more and he said he thought it could be as much as 20 years since he had used a key to get into a car.

Thus he had become the central figure in a Type 3 story. No one knows how to do anything except push buttons.

And they don't even understand why they are pushing them.

In so many ways we have become the Eloi following a warning signal that has no meaning to us.

The meaning here, of course is when you say "keyless entry," it implies that there is a key you are circumventing.