Still using a map? There are apps for that, you know
SO I WALKED past a store selling greeting cards the other day. Nothing against the brand, I’m just surprised they’re still in business in this day and age.
Know anyone who sends or receives cards since text messaging became one of the main forms of communication? I sure as hell don’t.
Just like I don’t know anyone who writes letters any more or makes use of a payphone.
Yet somebody out there is still choosing cards when they can send an SMS at a fraction of the cost and I just wonder if we breathe the same air.
Before you know it, flip phones will make a comeback and we can’t have that now can we?
For reasons unknown, some things refuse to go away despite the advent of more convenient and updated advances you would think would possess the ability to render them outdated and all I can do is sigh.
And sigh I did when I pulled up at a robot and the driver next to me was wrestling furiously with a large map while taking frequent glances up at the lights to make sure they hadn’t changed to green. I was dumbfounded. Who still manufactures these things? Even more pertinent: Who still uses them? I’ve never met a map I liked; and I chose geography in high school.
Of course, no one was happier than me with the arrival of GPS technology, especially the kind that now comes standardised with mobile devices.
So why, pray tell, would you continue to torture yourself with such cumbersome drawings when you can just sit back and let the GPS voice navigator lady tell you loudly exactly where to turn without even looking at the screen until you reach your destination?
Maybe this guy has been hibernating for the past few decades, I thought. Anyway, I was tempted to roll down the window and yell: “There are apps for that, you know,” but I didn’t cos my name’s Nelly which rhymes with nice and nice people don’t do such things so I just let out a naughty chuckle before driving off.
To people who still buy CDs: Do you realise you can download music nowadays? You know the kind that doesn’t get scratched, lost, stolen and can be stored on a virtual cloud network meaning you can have it forever and ever?
But you still insist on going to CD shops and then throwing tantrums when your little sister is not swayed by your attempts to bribe her into physically uploading each album onto your mp3 player, flash drive or laptop.
Then your house burns down and all that music you’ve taken pride in collecting over the years goes up in flames. Stop doing this to yourselves. It’s not worth the heartache.
Black-and-white television sets, answering machines and fluffy scrunchies have been relegated to the relic heap, yet there are still some sentimentalists who dare ask you for your BBM pin. Guys please just give it up.
As awesome as this instant messenger app that dented standardised cellphone messaging was when it first launched, hardly anybody uses it anymore because WhatsApp is now king and shows no signs of relegating that crown any time soon. So get with it.
Those bright neon-coloured fanny packs are hideous things; please don’t use them. And being a tourist in some foreign country doesn’t excuse you from this either. They belong in the 1980s and 1990s along with the rest of the atrocious fashion styles associated with those eras and rightfully so. You’ll never score a date wearing one of those out in public; it doesn’t matter how cute you are. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It’s confession time. I have a box of old VHS cassette tapes stored in my parents’ garage. This may as well be Greek to the post-Millennials who are in all likelihood thinking: “How outdated; on-line streaming, on-demand viewings and series downloads are where it’s at,” but before you do let me tell you something kids: some things are classics and will never be replaced no matter how great the upgraded version is.
Just lump me in the same category as those DJs who still prefer mixing with vinyls even though technology has practically rendered these things extinct.
That said, if anyone knows where I can get a VCR machine, please let me know.
Now excuse me while I go peek from behind a curtain in shame. At least I don’t wear Crocs and have never confused leggings for tights.