I usually don't mind the ignition-time presentation in my car, but I was in a hurry to get home yesterday, and it seemed unusually long. I upgraded to a 2003.8 Neon last spring, and the driver-side video display is very nice, but there are times, like yesterday, when I wish I could start driving before the product presentation finished running.
I was a bit late for my son Rick's soccer game. Aside from seeing him play, of course, I had to get to the game because my wife started fall classes that night, and had to leave the game as soon as I arrived. She was in a rush because ever since Cisco purchased the college she works at and made tuition free, classes start an hour earlier to allow time for the presentation breaks during lectures.
After the game, Rick got mad at me in the car because he wanted to listen to the radio. I've been suppressing the voice-over presentations in the car so much lately that I am behind my quota, so now that the end of the month is near, they play automatically. My son is young, but it isn't too early to teach him how the world works. I reminded him that you have to work to get free things like cars, and even kids have to chip in and realize that listening to presentations is more important than a favorite song. He is getting a habit of sassing back--he said that I should call the presentations "advertisements," quit fooling myself, and pay for things. Like I said, he is young--too young to know better, I guess.
Rick felt better on the way home, because our long drive to the gas station with voice-over presentations must have pushed my quota back in line, and he was able to play the radio without interruption (not including the ignition, shutdown, and stop-sign presentations). I noticed that he may complain about presentations, but he doesn't mind the free video-game console he received for joining Sega's presentation network. Well, at least school is teaching him the importance of presentations, especially since the Phillip Morris company gave his school district all that multimedia equipment.
It was already late when we got home, but what remained of the evening just flew. I had to reach my friend Don because we are doing some final planning for this weekend. Another friend is getting married, and Don and I are planning his stag party. Reaching Don took several phone calls. Now, I don't share my son's attitude, but I do wish that a presentation message did not have to play on my phone even when I am just redialing the same number repeatedly. I reached his voicemail twice, but I only waited through the product presentation to leave him a message the first time. Somehow we must have crossed, because I received voicemail while trying to reach him. I checked with my free voicemail system, but I had to listen to a couple of messages (and each of the presentations attached) before I heard that it was Don who had called.
After an hour of playing phone and voicemail tag, Don and I finally spoke. It was a good thing, too, because he thought I was going to drive my van to the stag party. I reminded him that my van's sponsors have a content filter installed in its GPS navigation system, and I could lose it if I drove to a bar with topless dancers, which, I confess, we might want to do at a stag party. We ended up renting a limo.
I was tired when I finally got Rick to bed, but remembered that I had one more chore--digging up an old backpack. My employer provides a beautiful leather briefcase to me free of charge, but it is specially designed only to hold file folders, and we have to sign an agreement that we will not store personal property in it. I needed the bag because I have been trying to leave my desk, go outside, and do some reading on my lunch hour.
I often marvel at the time-saving technology all around us, but there are days when I wonder: Where does the time go?
Contributing Editor Joe Rudich joe@rudich.com is a network administrator with the St. Paul Companies in St. Paul, Minn.
