Back in the old days if you got into a non-injury traffic accident you just filed the accident report with a live officer. Now you look up the local PD’s website and spend a couple hours trying to file the report online. If you do manage to successfully file it then the printer won’t want to print a copy for your records.
Time was when you dialed a phone number and talked to a human being. Now you press a series of buttons till you get to a point where you can leave a message. And no one ever calls you back.
Installing software used to be a lot simpler. They usually didn’t ask for the serial number, and certainly didn’t insist on connecting to the company web site to authenticate and register.
But now that I think about it, inserting a stack of floppies one by one was pretty annoying…
Once upon a time you could purchase a boxed item, cut one piece of tape and then remove the item from the box. These days heavy-duty tools are required to remove the simplest of items from packaging that’s designed to withstand a nuclear blast.
I miss being able to tear shrink-wrapping with my fingernail.
Fater September 11th, my grandmother was relieved of her folding knife at an airport security check. I gotta admit, it was a wicked-looking thing, a “Crocodile Dundee” blade.* But it was kind of funny to think of this sweet little old lady disarmed by shocked security people.
She was a bit indignant because for twenty years, she’d carried it on planes. It was always in her purse, one of those items you carry with you because it never occured to you to take it out. A couple of times, it had been taken from her purse and measured against the palm of a security person’s hand, (IIRC, the rule used to be that a blade had to be under a certain length) but she was never forbidden to take it on board.
She mourned that knife like a death in the family.
She carried it with her because she has a thing for fresh fruit and other botanicals. If she sees a pineapple stand by the road, she’ll stop and buy one and chop it up right there and hand out bites to her companions or anyone else who seems interested. She also kidnaps plants from along the road. If she sees an interesting plant, she’ll stop and dig it up or cut off a piece for planting. (I’ve told her that I think this may be illegal, but she insists that God put them there for our enjoyment and you just don’t argue with my grandma.)
Your receiver’s batteries never ran out in the middle of the call.
You always knew where to go to make or answer a call, and didn’t have to hunt for the receiver.
Real bells sounded 10[sup]127764[/sup] times better than any electronic chirp, including the chirp trying to sound like a real bell.
You were less likely to waste time on the phone because you were paying by the minute.
Another convenience from your childhood were actually more convenient":
IMAGINATION
The ability to go outside and create our own worlds of fantasy and wonder, rather than relying on videogame designers or 24-hours/day cartoon networks to do it for us.
Mammoths?!? You had mammoths? Hell, we used to have to try and spear trilobites with a stick, then eat them raw and twitching because fire hadn’t been invented yet. It’s hard to get to the filet mignon of a trilobite with all those legs waving in your face.
(Actually I’m only 32. I just wanted to get in on the joke.)
Yeah, well we had to wait around while God was taking his sweet time creating Eden. 6 days…jeesh, if you saw how many breaks he took and how much beer he drank. This project could have been finished in 2, tops. Sloppy work all around, and then we get kicked out for a design flaw!
Call me a princess (you’re a princess!), but I really related to this article in the Washington Post - Is There Anything Left That We Can Eat? . I find myself doing the “too many options” dance at the grocery store. Is that food low fat/low calorie? Does it have high fructose corn syrup? Trans-fats? Pesticides?
This also made parentshood more convenient. Back then all you needed to do to entertain kids was to kick them out of the house. I think “Go outside!” might have been my parents favorite words. Nowadays you’ve got to organize stuff and drive them places since they can’t bike there on their own. If one of them wanted something they’d actually do stuff like delivering papers (now done by adults) and other small jobs around the neighborhood instead of whining to you to buy it for them.
When I was a wee bairn…
a lot more stuff was delivered or sold to the front door:
The milk float, of course. Electric, too, which was novel.
The cooldrink* delivery man. We had a regular order for one crate a week. “Iron brew” was my favourite.
The greengrocer’s horse cart. Fresh fruit and veg.
and not forgetting - the fresh fish bakkie**, with the vendor blowing on his Kelphorn. Fresh snoek. To your door! Good times.
umm, possibly you’d say “soda pop”? It came in a range of flavours, from orange, pine, cola, gingerbeer, lemonade…
** a bakkie is a small (1/2 - 1 ton) pickup.
I think they call them candy sticks now. I saw them at a candy store in a mall in Mahattan, KS along with pop rocks, lik-m-aid and a 5" in diameter $10 jawbreaker.
They still sell them, but now they are called “candy sticks.” Exact same product, right down to the “glowing” red tip.
And, although we must have candy sticks instead of candy cigarettes, you can still get bubblegum cigars. Go figure.
The convenience from my childhood was the wind-up Big Ben alarm clock, which you did not have to reset every freakin’ time the power blipped out, and which displayed what time the alarm was set for without having to toggle a switch.
Imagine that…coins actually worked back then. You could buy things with them.
Imagine if we lived in an economy where we were stuck with such inflated, outdated coinage that it would take fifty of the smallest ones to buy a newspaper, or a thousand of them to buy a movie ticket, and yet the hidebound and reactionary populace refused to allow the government to update and reform the denominations. Oh wait…we do have that.
For that matter, when I was young, calling people on our same prefix required dialing only four digits. You didn’t have to dial the prefix at all. Now, people on the same street might have different area codes for their various home and cell numbers. And, cell phones usually recommend that you enter all the digits, area code included, just in case you’re in an area where the call will be long distance. Net effect: we’re up from four digits to ten, eleven if you count the initial “1”.
It’s probably because cigars never became a cliche item associated with juvenile delinquents or misbehaving kids who wanted to grow up too fast. Further, for a long time cigars were considered far safer to smoke than cigarettes. I believe they actually are safer, but in the current climate of anti-tobacco zeal, that distinction is becoming harder to maintain.
[li]If it’s a Paramount movie you need to sit through ads that you can’t skip through[/li][/QUOTE]
There are all kinds of tricks for this. You may not be able to menu through, but try out the track up button. That works on most. If that doesn’t work, hit fast-forward up to the highest speed. It’ll stop on its own once you hit the menu.