With the advent of a new year, my thoughts returned — as always — to the ghastly “Y2K” disaster that nearly ended civilization as we know it.
I am so proud of how all the peoples of the world hung together to work through the chaos that erupted on Jan. 1, 2000.
If you are in high school or younger, you probably have no concept of the turmoil that was unleashed by Y2K. For reasons unfathomable to me, the history books have ignored the whole thing.
The background: Because people who started programming computers in the early days were trying to save as much expensive storage space as possible, almost every computer in the cosmos used a six-digit code for dates. For instance, if an employer was going to print paychecks on, say, April 5, 1989, the computer would use “04/05/89.”
Just a few years before the 1900s turned into the 2000s, everyone suddenly exclaimed, “Yikes! What are the computers going to do when the date becomes ‘01/01/00’?”
Would they all shut down? Start to spew incorrect information? Would every system in our computer-dominated society fail? No one knew for certain.
Well, kids, as you may have guessed by now, absolutely nothing happened — unless you count the 150 Delaware Lottery racino slot machines that stopped working.
Terror? Subtract the letter “T.”
We spent an estimated $134 billion in the U.S. alone trying to head off disaster. Some folks would argue a good chunk of that money was well spent, because a lot of it went toward updating computer systems, which may have alleviated potential problems. But a ton of money also went toward contingency planning.
As the dreaded date was approaching, some worried individuals spent $19.99 for a 389-page book called The Complete Y2K Home Preparation Guide, billed as “everything you need to know about preparing your home, your family and yourself for Jan. 1, 2000.”
No, I didn’t buy one. A colleague who was cleaning out some cabinets left a copy on my desk recently, correctly assuming it would make me LOL.
The authors painted an ugly picture of what was to come.
“Because of the size and scope of this problem,” they wrote, “it creates denial that it is there — both in everyday citizens and leaders alike.
“If the only issue were that the phone systems might fail, or TV transmission, or water delivery, or accounting systems, or billing systems, or traffic lights, or medical devices, or conveyor belts, or oil refinery pumps, or food delivery systems, or paychecks, or residential heating systems, etc., we could look the problem in the face and fix it.
“But when the problem is so complex, so costly, involving so many areas of our lives and businesses, it is much easier to shut down, ignore the evidence and assume it will get fixed — somehow.”
Leafing through the book today provides some solid belly laughs, such as this gem, on Page 169: “Be sure there are no Y2K problems with thermostats or heating systems. Ask the manufacturer to confirm it for you in writing.”
Yeah, that was going to happen. What manufacturer wouldn’t sit down and craft a personal letter vouching for the Y2K ability of your thermostat?
Adjacent to that page is a photo of two bicycles with the caption, “Bicycles could be handy in early 2000. Have extra tires and tubes on hand.”
Yep. Residents of Greater Akron would be riding their bikes so far and so often in January and February that we’d soon be needing tire changes.
Of course, even back then — 17 years ago — plenty of blame for our country’s lack of preparedness went to the evil mainstream media.
“The press does not really know how to cover Y2K,” the authors wrote. “All there is to report is everyone’s opinion as to what will happen. There is no event yet and the media is event-driven. … The implications of the problem are too massive to assimilate easily.”
The first mention of Y2K in the Beacon Journal — among 813 stories that have included that numeronym — came on Jan. 1, 1996.
Business writer Roger Mezger began this way:
“Hickory, dickory, dock,
“The mouse clicked on the clock.
“The clock struck 12:01,
“The spreadsheet wouldn’t run.
“Hickory, dickory, dock.
“In simplest terms, with apologies to Mother Goose, that’s what could happen to your business four years from today.”
Just short of four years later, your favorite columnist still wasn’t sold on the notion of impending disaster. But to hedge his bet, he did go to an ATM and grab a few hundred dollars of extra cash.
As if that would have kept me going when the whole society imploded.
Bob Dyer can be reached at 330-996-3580 or bdyer@thebeaconjournal.com. To find his podcast, “Dyer Necessities,” go to www.ohio.com/dyer. He also is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bob.dyer.31