By Jim Hagarty
2007
Apple Computers introduced its amazing new iPhone this week and gadget lovers are freakin’ out. But the cynical among us believe the company has already built the machine’s demise into it ahead of time. Within a relatively short time – months, maybe, not years – this startling new product will be obsolete. Apple knows that, is part of that, and is already planning its replacement.
If this is the case, and it seems pretty certain that it is (none of these devices are made to last a hundred years like some of the early automobiles that can still be seen on the road), then this process of “planned obsolescence” is speeding up. It works like this.
Obsolete Plan #1: The new machine is good, but not perfect. It will break down. It will be too expensive to fix. May as well lay down another few hundred bucks to buy the newest model, rather than wasting that money on repairs.
Obsolete Plan #2: The new machine is stylish, but goes quickly out of fashion as newer ones are flashier. Though we might be inclined to get a bit steamed at being played for fools, our modern economy appears to depend on us replacing our toys often. If they are made too well and never change in appearance or add new features, what would be our incentive to spend? And spending is what keeps everything in motion.
However, this clever system of planned obsolescence has one public enemy, and a very stubborn one at that. That wily foe is me and people like me, of which there are a few. We are sometimes known as “old codgers.” Surrounding me in my humble abode are the digital this and thats and electronic those that should have been carted to the recyclers years ago. But, I have this subversive economic streak whereby I fix the darned things whenever they break. I either get out the duct tape and get ‘er going myself, as I did with our vacuum cleaner on the weekend, or I (sometimes foolishly) pay someone else to fix it.
Prying my possessions out of my grip is like trying to get Charlton Heston’s guns away from his “cold, dead hands.”
I still have, for example, the first radio I ever owned. It’s a Channel Master transistor (I think it might have eight transistors, whatever they are) and I bought it in 1963 for $29.95 on the day my grandmother died. Until a couple of years ago, it still worked, but, alas, a recent check suggests it has died (but I’ll, get it goin’ again. Update: I eventually did get it going again in 2012 using powerful lithium batteries).
I do not have a rotary phone, though I know of people who do, but I have lots of old touchtone ones that still do the job. I still use probably the first cordless phone every sold. It has a long metal aerial you pull out from the receiver and a longer one at the base. It’s big and clunky but you can rest it easily under your chin while you’re doing the dishes. It looks like the camouflage walkie talkie phones they used in the army. In contrast, a zippy new one I bought recently with a stubby aerial, has the audible quality of two soup cans and a string.
I have four computers, three of which still perform as well as the day they came home, as well as old printers, scanners, the works. Last summer, I mercilessly drove an old Oldsmobile into the ground before it was finally and irretrievably declared dead.
But to tell the truth, I secretly pine for a lot of these new things people are using and I’m feeling a bit left out. And I sometimes get angry with a lot of my toys which apparently have never heard of planned obsolescence. One TV in particular, has hung on for 22 years. When I bought it, The Bob Newhart Show – remember Larry, Darrell and Darrell? – was the hot program I watched on it every Monday night.
It cost a lot but doesn’t owe me a nickel. But as a tube TV in a tubeless TV world, it’s doomed. And I’d like to move on. Before Christmas, my wish came true. As I was watching a show one night, the screen slowly faded to black, not to return, though the sound stayed on. Secretly, I was glad and started dreaming about its replacement. A month went by and I came home one day last week to see my kids watching it as though nothing had ever happened. One of them had turned it on, saw it had no picture, banged it a couple of times on the side and it sprang back to life.
Also contemptuous of planned obsolescence: My 20-year-old lawnmower! (Update: Lawnmower is now 28 and still going strong though spark plugs need changing more often than a baby’s diaper.)
