Tag Archives: technology

Legally bland

For most of yesterday, I had no name, only a number – 23. Juror #23.

While my number was unique, I’m fairly certain my attitude about jury duty wasn’t.

Part of me hoped to get out of serving altogether, to not disrupt my work schedule, inconvenience my clients, or sit still and unplugged for hours. The other part of me craved a front row seat to a steaming courtroom drama. Surely the other 349 in the pool were feeling the same way.

I’d been called to jury duty only once before, in 1992. I wasn’t chosen then either; but I remember two things about that day.

The first:  More than a few of us were reading A Time to Kill, John Grisham’s first novel. The book had come out three years earlier, but it had gotten little attention until Grisham’s next legal suspense thriller, The Firm, came out in ’92. Jury selection was a central part of A Time to Kill and those of us who arrived with paperback in hand were dying to be selected. The second thing I remember:  Even though I wasn’t selected, I felt sequestered. A full work day at the courthouse without any contact with my office was nerve-wracking.

As I prepared to report for my civic duty this week, I failed to consider the technological advancements of the last two decades. I somberly told my friends, family and clients they’d not be able to reach me. I even put an out-of-office notification on my e-mail.

How sick was my disappointment to be allowed full use of my smart phone? To learn that the jury room had free wi-fi? To see a dozen computer stations available for any use ranging from e-mail to Solitaire? That’s no fun.

While I awaited assignment to a courtroom, I made my own fun – mostly by counting errors in the orientation video. (By the way, Montgomery County, the translation of voir dire is not “to see [and] to hear.” It is “to see [and] to say.”)

I listened in on my fellow jurors’ cell phone conversations, rolling my eyes as they overstated the drama to their loved ones and colleagues. I could only imagine their exaggerated tweets.

Finally, I was assigned to a courtroom where I was sure there’d be real action. The judge outlined some basic facts about the snoozer of the case—a personal injury incident taking place four years prior. He conducted the obligatory voir dire, which revealed nary a trace of conflict.

And then the judge spoke: “Madam Clerk, may I borrow your stapler?”

And then I was dismissed.

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Fortitude foretold

Man Versus Machine has been a recurring motif over the course of this blog. It seems I’m destined to face the techno-beast again and again.

I’m not technologically adept. But I’m nothing if not persistent. Dogged. Relentless.

For 20 years I was coddled by onsite tech support. Most of that time, all I had to do was punch in four digits and someone appeared in my office, tapping away until life was good again. In the late 90s, corporate resources became constrained and Y2K gave way to the tech support principle known as RTFM.

One of the things I miss about working in a conventional job is onsite tech support. The last 10 years I’ve had to fend for myself. I’m not sure I’ve acquired much skill but, out of necessity, I’ve become a bulldog. When some gizmo goes kaflooey, I hammer it until it succumbs (a popular tech support principle of the self employed).

In the past three weeks, I’ve suffered the dysfunction of three computers, endured an ISP conversion gone horribly wrong, lost my business phone line, gazed as my Garmin gave up the ghost and watched my four-in-one crumble into nothing. I was afraid to make toast.

Yesterday I awoke at 4:00 a.m., in a puddle of hot and cold sweat, palpitating with anxiety and set on getting at least one or two of these things straightened out.

At 11:45 last night, I realized I was still in my pajamas, I hadn’t eaten, but I proudly had wiped out a few gremlins. I decided to take a break and read the paper, which had been sitting on the kitchen table all day.

I flipped to the horoscope. Don’t you love reading your horoscope when the day is already done? I find it’s much less foreboding that way, and too late to act on flimsy advice.

Mine read: “It is sometimes hard to let things go. Then again, being just a tad obsessive does have its benefits. For instance, you can focus intently on something you want to accomplish and not quit until it’s done.”

I’m not quite done. But today’s another day. Do I dare peek at what the stars portend?

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Size matters

When the alarm sounded this morning, there were visions of lumens dancing in my head.

It was obvious that I hadn’t adequately cleared my cranium following yesterday’s marathon search for a new portable LCD projector. After hitting six stores, I came home empty-handed and light-headed.

You see, I have immediate need for a teeny-weeny portable projector to show presentations around the country. The most striking lesson I learned is that one man’s portable is another man’s albatross.

1000-lumen bulb

You might already know all this, but here’s what else I’ve learned:

  1. It’s all about the lumens. For the unenlightened, a lumen is a unit of luminous flux, or brightness. The more lumens the better. Any fewer than 1,000 is considered impotent.

  2. The challenge is finding mega lumens in a small package. Two pounds—about eight inches in length—is an ideal size, yet a portable projector must be able to be stored in a small space, and not arouse suspicion at the airport.

  3. They actually make a “pocket projector.” One salesman boasted that, at 50 lumens (pfft!), his packs as much punch as a thousand. Nice try, mister.

  4. There’s a difference between an LCD and a DLP display. Apparently, looking at a DLP can give you a headache of not-tonight-honey proportions.

  5. While I can grasp such measures as resolution, contrast ratio and viewable screen size, I’m puzzled by something called “throw ratio range.” I gather that’s the distance it’ll go when it suffers performance anxiety in front of an audience and I hurl it across the room.

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Plus or minus?

When it comes to new technology, I consider myself a fast follower.

This means I’m not among the first to embrace something just because it’s new. At the same time, I’m typically not one to be dragged into the latest technological wave kicking and screaming. When I got air conditioning for the first time this year, I went willfully, glowing and wilting.

Generally, when something new becomes available, say a new social media platform, I consider it thoughtfully and wade in carefully. Such was my foray into Facebook which, by the way, I still like a great deal.

Lately, Google+ is in my face, like a gnat that flies too close.

My friends and contacts are embracing Google+, which I assume is Facebook’s latest competitor. I’m aware of the dynamic between the two companies and find it no surprise that Google has stepped onto the mat to give Facebook a run for its members.

At least I think I’m aware.  Frankly, I’m not sure I quite understand what Google+ is offering.

Here’s where you come in. Who can give me the 30-second elevator pitch for Google+? I haven’t quite heard it anywhere else.

Google+ appears to have veiled its rollout in exclusivity—in that members must be “invited” to join. If this is the case, I’m already a bit turned off. I’ve been invited by several people I know and trust, but if these same people invited me to join an exclusive club, I’d politely decline. I’m not big on exclusivity.

At the same time, I do suffer from a mild case of FMS, Fear of Missing Something. I’d like to know what’s happening at this party that I might benefit from in some way. Will it enable me to make valuable contacts that will enrich my network in a way that LinkedIn does not? Will I have to re-connect with the same friends and family members with whom I already interact on Facebook? Would I need to create a gmail address? Heaven knows, I don’t need a fifth e-mail address.

If I choose to stay on Facebook, how much more time will I need to spend online? Will Google+ give my friends, God love ’em, more stupid games for which they need my help buying wheat?

Will I be operating in parallel universes? And how many universes is there room for in this galaxy? 

The floor is open and so are my ears (in this case, my eyes).

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RIP TI4 and WE6

Recently on this blog, several of us got into a side conversation, remembering telephone numbers from many decades ago. I suspect most of us don’t even bother to learn phone numbers any more; we just have them programmed into our mobile devices.

The first telephone number I ever learned—I still remember it—was CL6-2808. CL stood for Clearbrook. Back then, phone numbers had only seven characters, the first two letters standing for neighborhood exchanges. The second two phone numbers I memorized were TI4-1212 (844-1212) and WE6-1212 (936-1212). TI stood for “time” and WE stood for “weather.”

As kids, we used to call Time seconds before the stroke of the Daylight Saving Time switchover, just for kicks, so we could hear time go backward or skip ahead. Childhood’s tiny thrills.

Late last night a friend brought to my attention the sad news that, after 72 years, our local phone company will cease providing time and weather, effective the first of June. Apparently, among the last areas in which Verizon is cutting these basic lifelines is the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area (or, as the recording used to say, “Washington and vicinity,” which was the first I never heard the word “vicinity.”)

My friend who shared this news said the voice recording was one of her neighbors. This makes the news all the more disappointing.  Talk about the end of an era.

I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. The phone company claims we no longer need a free line to time and weather, that we already have innumerable devices through which to learn if we are running late or whether to put our sunglasses or rain boots by the front door. And they’re right, we have smart phones and computers to give us what we need.  Heck, I still wear a watch.

Still, there’s something about those pre-recorded voices and the two sets of seven digits indelibly printed in our memories that will make it so difficult to usher out yet another bygone era.

Does anybody really know what time it is?

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Ironic, my dear Watson

Perhaps you have read the news that in February, for the first time ever, a computer will compete on Jeopardy!

You might remember when an IBM computer beat chess world champion Garry Kasparov in a six-game match in 1997. IBM’s latest challenge was to build upon that feat by taking technology to an even more difficult and complex level—building a computer that processes natural language, complete with humor, irony and sarcasm, as well as nuances, regionalisms and slang.

Having apparently met that challenge, Watson will compete against Jeopardy! champions Ken Jennings and Brad Rutter February 14 through the 16, 2011.

The computer, named Watson after IBM’s founder, was developed by technologists and researchers from around the world.

While its debut on Jeopardy! will make a big splash, the goal of the technology is ultimately to forge more advanced communication between humans and computers. This goal undoubtedly will harvest scientific and societal benefits in fields ranging from healthcare to customer service.

However, I cannot help wondering what practical applications Watson might offer if ever the technology became available at the consumer level.

How long before the next software release coming out of Redmond, Washington, will include Microsoft Irony, an application to detect, interpret, even insert rhetorical nuances in interpersonal and corporate communications?

Could Watson displace humor columnists and language bloggers? Will we turn on our televisions and see Watson sitting behind Andy Rooney’s desk on 60 Minutes?

If you were a member of IBM’s global research team, what real-world application would you be itching to create for Watson? Or, as a consumer, what application would you want available for purchase?

Personally, I am hoping Watson will be smart–and courageous–enough to tell Jeopardy! clue-writers to put the periods and commas inside the quotation marks, where they belong.

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The Office

A project I have been working on has led to some interesting reading about demographics.

I read an article over the weekend that pointed out that, for the first time in U.S. history, four generations are working side by side in the workplace.  In “The Multigenerational Workforce: Managing and Motivating Multiple Generations in the Legal Workplace,” Sally Kane draws out the distinctions among the so-called Traditionalists, born before 1945, the Baby Boomers and Generations X and Y, in terms of how they tend to function in the workplace.

The article suggests that, largely because generations view the role of  technologies differently, the groups may also relate to their colleagues differently in meetings and in one-on-one interaction.

Obviously, Traditionalists have witnessed the most change over their career spans.  Presuming they entered the workforce in the late 1960s, they worked through cultural and technological revolutions the GenXers and Millennials may have only read about or seen on screen.  In the last 40 years, they have adapted to new workplace devices and vocabularies and, I dare say, have done so pretty well.

Technically a Baby Boomer, I began my career in 1983 at a high-tech trade association.  I was working in a leading edge industry that presumably used cutting edge technologies and forward thinking business concepts.  I worked hard to learn the lingo and became just proficient enough to stay employed in the industry for the next 20 years.

It doesn’t seem that long ago, but I realize now how many of the words we spoke and tools we used must be inconceivable to today’s young professional. Likewise, the collection of gadgets so indispensible to today’s office worker were as unforeseen to the workers of yesteryear as the practice of team-building.

If indeed such a wide gap exists, as the article suggests, in the interpersonal relations among the generations, perhaps I can be helpful in forging some understanding by explaining some commonplace terms from the early 1980s office.

Facsimile machine.  It wasn’t called a fax or used as a verb for years to come.  It was used only when time was of the essence; in my office, that was about twice a year.  We sent and received facsimiles by inserting a telephone receiver into a foam-padded cradle attached to a large roller in which we manually fed single pages.  The machine emitted a horrendous odor when receiving.

Message pad.  These were pink and were headed with the words, While You Were Out.  The answering machine came into existence a bit later.

Word processor.  As in, “please let me know when you are finished with the word processor, so I can use it next.”

Ashtray.  If you don’t know what this is, visit the Smithsonian; they probably have one on display.

Slides.  Little tiny cardboard frames encasing celluloid images shown on a carousel projector.

Transparencies.  Plastic sheets containing words written or images drawn with colored markers, shown on an overhead projector.

In Box.  It was a real box into which your mail was placed, before it was known as “snail mail.”

Out Box.  A lot could be known about you, depending on whether yours was above or below your In Box.

Christmas bonus.  Christmas was what they used to call Holiday, but bonus?  That one’s a little fuzzy.

Did I forget anything?

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