I have just been inducted into The Old Fogey Club. And I do not mean the snout-in-the-trough AARP gang.
Not too long ago, I was the dream guy of American marketers. What they call an early adopter. If there was a new electronic gadget, I bought it. Almost always at a premium price. I was a superpower in the electronic wars.
A couple of years before I retired, I ran up the white flag. As much as I enjoyed the toys, there was little joy in them. And there was just a bit of snobbery, as well.
The first new technology I purposely did not purchase was MP3. The players certainly were handy and portable. But to cram that many little electronic bits into the player, the sound files had to be compressed enough that the resulting sound was -- well, let's just say "diminished."
So, I kept my CDs -- in their original form -- and toted them about from place to place. Often leaving them in the seat pocket on airplanes. (I was once rather insulted when I went to lost and found at the airport and discovered my player had not been turned in, but most of my CDs had. Everybody is a music critic.)
Earlier this month I pulled out my decade-old CD player to take along on my trip to the Middle East. To my surprise, it was dead. Not to my surprise, the cause was corrosion. Not from leaky batteries. From our salty, humid air. And it was corroded beyond repair.
No problem, thought I. I had to go to Manzanillo this morning to pick up my FM3 (which I did). I decided I would simply stop at one of the big box stores and buy a new one.
Much easier said than done. Nothing was available at Soriana. Or Office Max. Or Comercial Mexicana. So, I off I went to Walmart. They all had CD players. If I was interested in toting around something the size of a Buick Regal. Otherwise, the choice appeared to be various MP3 players.
I asked a young lady in the Walmart electronics department if she had any portable CD players. I knew I was using the correct words in Spanish because they were printed on the side of the boom boxes. She eyed me warily and called over a guy pushing a broom.
He was about my age and spoke perfect English. Better yet, he knew exactly what I was looking for. The two of them had a rather animated exchange. With the young lady repeatedly asking -- "what for?"
He told me they did not have anything like that in Walmart. But suggested I try Radio Shack.
Now, why hadn't I thought of that? Radio Shack is famous for carrying a wide range of products from the cutting edge to the discontinued.
The young man at Radio Shack was young enough to be my grandson. When I told him what I needed, he started laughing and said: "Are you opening an antique shop?"
Then and there, I knew I had completely lost my electronic mojo. Not only had I fallen from the pedestal. I was one of the Lost Geezers.
I am in the process of packing my suit case. My CDs are going with me. Only because I am operating under the impression that The States are less technologically advanced than Mexico.
Certainly I can find a portable CD player in New Orleans.
Not too long ago, I was the dream guy of American marketers. What they call an early adopter. If there was a new electronic gadget, I bought it. Almost always at a premium price. I was a superpower in the electronic wars.
A couple of years before I retired, I ran up the white flag. As much as I enjoyed the toys, there was little joy in them. And there was just a bit of snobbery, as well.
The first new technology I purposely did not purchase was MP3. The players certainly were handy and portable. But to cram that many little electronic bits into the player, the sound files had to be compressed enough that the resulting sound was -- well, let's just say "diminished."
So, I kept my CDs -- in their original form -- and toted them about from place to place. Often leaving them in the seat pocket on airplanes. (I was once rather insulted when I went to lost and found at the airport and discovered my player had not been turned in, but most of my CDs had. Everybody is a music critic.)
Earlier this month I pulled out my decade-old CD player to take along on my trip to the Middle East. To my surprise, it was dead. Not to my surprise, the cause was corrosion. Not from leaky batteries. From our salty, humid air. And it was corroded beyond repair.
No problem, thought I. I had to go to Manzanillo this morning to pick up my FM3 (which I did). I decided I would simply stop at one of the big box stores and buy a new one.
Much easier said than done. Nothing was available at Soriana. Or Office Max. Or Comercial Mexicana. So, I off I went to Walmart. They all had CD players. If I was interested in toting around something the size of a Buick Regal. Otherwise, the choice appeared to be various MP3 players.
I asked a young lady in the Walmart electronics department if she had any portable CD players. I knew I was using the correct words in Spanish because they were printed on the side of the boom boxes. She eyed me warily and called over a guy pushing a broom.
He was about my age and spoke perfect English. Better yet, he knew exactly what I was looking for. The two of them had a rather animated exchange. With the young lady repeatedly asking -- "what for?"
He told me they did not have anything like that in Walmart. But suggested I try Radio Shack.
Now, why hadn't I thought of that? Radio Shack is famous for carrying a wide range of products from the cutting edge to the discontinued.
The young man at Radio Shack was young enough to be my grandson. When I told him what I needed, he started laughing and said: "Are you opening an antique shop?"
Then and there, I knew I had completely lost my electronic mojo. Not only had I fallen from the pedestal. I was one of the Lost Geezers.
I am in the process of packing my suit case. My CDs are going with me. Only because I am operating under the impression that The States are less technologically advanced than Mexico.
Certainly I can find a portable CD player in New Orleans.
