High-tech headaches are a pain

I learned a lesson – a cruel and expensive lesson – about high technology this Christmas.

I learned that the term “loss leader” – formerly connected with furniture warehouses and grocery stores – has reached its ultimate achievement in the world of high-tech gadgets.

It began innocently enough when my wife Carol and I decided to give ourselves a 21st century Christmas present: a digital camera.

Digital cameras are a clear improvement over the old-fashioned film kind, if only because you can load all of your pictures onto your computer and edit them and organize them and e-mail them. So I read up on digital cameras in Consumer Reports and ended up getting a nice little Canon on sale for $175.

That’s not too extravagant, is it? As high-tech presents go, that’s reasonable, right?

I didn’t even have to take out a loan or anything.

So Carol and I opened our new present a week before Christmas, since (1) We wanted to take Christmas pictures with it and (2) It was sitting there in a box marked Canon on our kitchen counter, so the surprise factor was pretty much shot.

So we spent the requisite two-and-a-half hours reading the instruction manual and trying to decipher such instructions as (and I quote directly): “When the zoom position is located between the telephoto end and the wide-angle end, the distance between the front of the lens and the subject will be the same as the telephoto end.”

Oh, please. Like I didn’t already know that?

After a while, we simply picked up the camera and began taking photos. As it turns out, a perfectly reasonable instruction manual would have consisted of the following two sentences: Set it on automatic. Press the shutter button.

So in no time at all we had fired off about 20 photos. Then it was time to load the photos on to our trusty old computer, so I grabbed the Canon “software install” disk and shoved it into the computer slot.

Nothing happened.

I shoved it in again, this time with more resolve. Nothing happened.

With sinking heart, I checked the instruction manual. Our old computer, purchased in the late 20th century, did not meet the system requirements.

However, I wasn’t ready to give up. I called my friend, who we’ll call Mac since he knows everything about Macs. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Isn’t there any way we can use this camera with our computer?

Mac: How old is your computer?

Me: Not that old. I think, maybe seven years.

Mac: (10 seconds of laughter).

Me: Is that too old?

Mac: Listen, not only is that computer too old to load the software, it’s practically too old to know of the existence of digital cameras.

Oh, man.

I spent the next two days in various forms of denial. Maybe I could download the software online? Nope. Maybe I could update my computer sufficiently? Nope. Maybe we could just use the camera without putting pictures on the computer? Well, yeah, except that’s one reason we bought the stupid camera.

So on Dec. 23, I found myself in line at the computer store, with a fancy new computer in my cart. The clerk looked at me cheerfully and said, “Wow, this’ll make a nice Christmas present.”

“It’s not a Christmas present,” I said, forlornly. “This is just a, you know, accessory.”

The clerk stared at me for a long time and then turned and rang it up. I refuse to say how much it all ended up costing, but yes, I did have to take out a loan.

On Christmas morning, the shock had worn off. We happily shot photos and smoothly transferred them to our new computer. It all worked like a charm.

I was beginning to feel better. Then my daughter walked up, frowning, looking at the new iPod we had gotten her for Christmas. It wasn’t one of those real expensive iPods – not extravagant at all.

“This won’t work with my old laptop,” she said. “It doesn’t meet the system requirements.”

I hope she finds a decent loan.