Y2K 2.0: One Man's Struggle with an Unforgiving Virus
I was not worried about Y2K as New Year’s Eve 1999–2000 approached. Perhaps it was the media alarmist approach to the concern that made me roll my eyes at the whole thing. Maybe it was because the idea of every plane falling out of the sky with every nuke simultaneously blasting off struck me as absurd. I found the idea of computers not knowing how to count years in shorthand really, really dumb.
I was in college at the time, and while I was not a math or computer science major, the whole Y2K story just didn’t make sense to my layman’s brain. And, of course, my layman’s brain was right. The only life-changing even that occurred at midnight on January 1, 2000 (CST) was I got laid for the first time. And can you believe Peter Jennings didn’t even cover it? Not even Dan Rather wanted a piece of that action.
But here we are. Twenty-two years later and the technological threat looms.
I’ve been on the phone with Apple support for a collective four hours and seventeen minutes today. I’m currently waiting for a call back from Christine, the friendly grandmother in Michigan who heard my young son’s voice in the background then shared with me a story of her 4-year-old grandbaby wanting to play outside on Christmas. Specifically, he wanted to garden.
“Last spring, he helped me garden,” Christine tells me. “He really liked digging in the dirt. And there he was, forty-six degrees in Michigan on Christmas Day, digging up that frozen dirt.”
“It’s a special thing, Grandma’s house,” I told her. “Nothing better than grandmas.”
“Sure aren’t,” she laughed.
“Grandpas are a close second.”
“But they’re second,” she agreed. “Has your watch unpaired from your phone yet?”
My wife, Katie, got me an Apple Watch for Christmas. And that’s the problem. I wanted one for working out. Something that’ll track my runs and play my podcasts while pounding the streets and trails that would allow me to leave my phone at home. I didn’t want the extra weight. Plus, the Apple Watch can track my rate and progress while swimming and riding my bike. I named my Apple Watch KITT after the Knight Rider television show. I know my Apple Watch isn’t a car—it’s a watch. But Michael Knight had the coolest watch I’d ever seen because it allowed him to communicate with his talking car. And this Apple Watch—my KITT—is the most advanced piece of wrist jewelry I’ve ever owned. KITT is my all-in-one sport watch. And if it ever helps me fight crime, all the better. And while I’ve never used Siri on any other Apple products, you bet your butt I’m going to talk to KITT—um, Siri.
I didn’t need this watch. I’ve been able to run, swim, bike, etc. without such a tool, but I wanted the watch. For fun. To have something new. And because it was Christmas, it wasn’t an outlandish desire. And so, I was excited at the prospect that Christmas morning, I might unwrap a brand new Apple Watch. I was also terrified by that prospect. Because I’m not a tech guy. I’m not opposed to technology. I’m not a complete idiot like an impatient Baby Boomer who only listens to Beatles records and somehow still thinks American Pie is a good song. I’m not a tech guy because nine of out of ten times, I’ll have trouble with a new piece of technology. Hence my conversation with Grandma Christine in Michigan.
I get nervous around new tech like a new iPhone or MacBook or iPad or Apple Watch or bluetooth headphones or the iRobot app and so on. And I get nervous because, based on historical accounts, I’m going to run into some kind of trouble. Trouble that I can’t get out of on my own. Trouble that requires help from the experts.
KITT wasn’t syncing right with my phone. Its apps were working but—and this is hard to explain—they were not showing up as actively running on the watch. Messages weren’t syncing. Things were just… off. So, four hours and seventeen minutes of troubleshooting, unpairing and repairing the watch to the phone… Well, we’ll see what happens. KITT is currently repairing to my iPhone, which I named Pirate Muscle Milk—a long, nonsensical story involving a warrior mask from Turkey and my 3-year-old son. Once it finishes pairing, I’ll test everything and hopefully, all will be working as intended.
Could I have used the watch as it was with its minor malfunctions? Yes. As a sport watch, sure. But Katie paid good money for KITT and I see nothing wrong with wanting new Christmas presents to work as intended. I also expect a lot from Apple products even if they do give me the heebie-jeebies. And they do. But not because I’m afraid of technology but because I carry the Y2K virus in my blood. I am a thriving host for this 21st Century strain of panic.
When 2000 rang in, I had no computer or cellphone of my own. No pager. Not even a digital watch. Now, I have all these things and more. Well, no pager, but what is iMessage other than a third cousin once removed of the pager. Smart TVs, iPads, iCloud, Dropbox, MacBook Pros, iPhone 12 Minis, Google and its suite of shit that has me second guessing how I should login to email and my Drive… Something is bound to go wrong so I keep a team of tech support at the ready—Don Hall, Christopher Gallant, Katie Himmel, Patrick Brown. They are all more patient than I with tech hiccups caused by my Y2K 2.0 virus. Hall is an Apple Beta dork, so he knows his Apple. Gallant and Brown are general tech geeks; Brown works in the industry. And Katie, well, Katie is just tech smart and enjoys showing me how to do simple tech things without getting frustrated because that’s a Millennial’s greatest joy—showing up an older Gen X who would rather receive phone calls than have to read through emails.
The thing is, whenever someone with less tech know-how than I needs help, and I happen to be within reach, I have no problem helping them. Like my dad, my mom, a small handful of people at work—all older than I am. Y2K 2.0 definitely discriminates. It seems to only affect my stuff.
It’s a new year. I know we have to sort out this Covid pandemic thing, but it’d be nice if we could find a treatment for my Y2K 2.0 variant. Something that doesn’t require me to spend half a day on a call with a Michigan grandmother. And speaking of, she’s calling me right now. Both my iPhone 12 Mini and Apple Watch Series 7 are vibrating, letting me know. And it looks like things are working as they should be now. Grandma Christine will be thrilled, I’m sure.
