Count Down to Y2K

As Channel 8 broadcast the countdown to 1999, Edith, a long retired computer programmer, laid aside Y2K: Your Personal Survival Guide. Sipping a glass of red wine, and munching on hot, buttered popcorn she mulled over what she had been reading.

The general consensus of the residents of Hipsennees Retirement Villa was “the new year will come with or without me, no reason to stay up, listening to excited fools count back from ten. Why waste valuable sleeping time?” Edith was the exception. She was firm in her belief next year would be a far different story. Because of computer failure a world meltdown was inevitable. 

A decisive and determined woman, Edith spent the next two hours at her computer formulating a plan she would share with the residents.

Before heading out for her morning walk, Edith banged on her younger sister’s door. When Annie opened the door, Edith thrust a book into her hands. “Here, you need to read this before the meeting.”

Bleary-eyed, Annie took one look at the title and shook her head. She knew there was growing speculation about computers not being able to handle the move into the next century. Edith had found her next bandwagon.

  Annie pushed the book away. “Oh, leave it to the experts Edith. It was your lot got us into this mess, let them get us out of it.”

Edith dropped the book inside the door. “Read it.”

For several days Annie heard nothing more on the subject until she retrieved a flyer slipped under her door. A brief meeting of all residents of Hipsannees Retirement Villa was called for 4:15 that afternoon in the lounge. Annie didn’t have to look at the signature to know who would be leading the charge. The agenda was brief: Y2K.

Reluctant to attend, but feeling the need to support her older sister, Annie dutifully greeted her neighbours, checking off the name of each attendee on Edith’s master list.

Edith paced back and forth, glancing at her watch at every turn. At 4:14:35 she rapped her gavel on the table, and called the meeting to order. In a sonorous voice, she explained the gravity of the upcoming Y2K situation. “Computer memory is expensive and one way to save…”

“She said memory is expensive.” Clarence shouted at 92 year-old Mary, a woman too vain to wear hearing aids because ‘those damn things are for old people.’

Mary spoke behind her hand. “I’d say more like elusive. I’ve got memories so well hidden, they may never surface.”

Edith glowered and banged her gavel on the table. “No side talk. Before Mary’s meaningless interruption, I was about to tell you expenses were kept down by using two digits instead of four to designate the year. This was all fine and dandy for the current century but that decision is going to bite the world in the ass when we enter the next one.”

Whispered comments were exchanged until Edith’s voice bounced off the walls. “If the glitch isn’t fixed, life as we now know it shall be no more!”

Raymond nudged Mary and motioned her to stand. “If the bright ones who created the mess can’t solve it, there’s nothing our bunch can do. Come on, Mary. I believe you owe Clarence and me a New Year’s drink.”

Simon also stood. “I wouldn’t have one of those ridiculous gadgets to save my soul. Their mess is none of my concern.” Several nodded in agreement and made as if to leave.

Martha, who seldom said anything in groups, spoke in an authoritative tone. “Computers are far more involved in our lives than you realize - financial institutions, hospitals, law enforcement to name but a few. I think Edith is on to something.”

Shocked by Martha’s support, Edith beamed. “Thank you, Martha. I’m glad someone has an open mind.” She raised her gavel, then realizing it wasn’t needed to bring order to the room, reluctantly dropped it back onto the table. The remaining residents, dumbfounded by Martha’s show of solidarity, sat in stunned silence.

“Of course, we can’t fix the computer glitch but we must be prepared for the fall-out. Our group will be called Y2K Proper Preparation Group.”

Harry snorted. “Not sure I want to be part of a pee-pee group, Edith.” Harry liked nothing better than to annoy Edith and looked to his cohorts for support.

 She peered over her glasses and raised her hand, palm out. “Keep your bathroom humour to yourself, Harry." She winked at her new ally and continued. "Martha has alluded to just a few of the concerns. I’ve prepared a list of things we must do. I’d advise you to set up a binder as this will be the first piece of pertinent information I will be providing. Annie pass these out and be quick about it.”

The room buzzed as people read through the list. Irene shook her head in dismay. “This seems a bit much. Fred, would we even have room for all this?” He shrugged, impatient for the meeting to end. He preferred to be first to the dining room and needed to make a quick stop at home.

“One final thing, we will meet bi-weekly on Wednesdays from 4:00 to 4:15. Do be prompt. An agenda, entitled Y2KPPG, will be posted in the foyer by Tuesday dinner time.” Edith glared at Harry daring him to comment, then continued. “If unable to attend it is your responsibility to make arrangements with a neighbour to enlighten you.”

Annie rolled her eyes. Edith lived for a calamity and could always be counted on to find ways to encourage panic.

“The meeting went well, don’t you think Annie? You will be my second in command.”

“Not happening, Edith. You are fear-mongering and I’m having no part of it.”

“And you, Annie, have your head up your ass. Don’t expect my help on January 1, 2000.”

“None expected. I’m the optimistic sibling.”

By the time Edith had posted the first agenda, she had recruited three residents to assist with practical requirements: setting out chairs; finding equipment -microphone, overhead projector and video recorder; keeping attendance; collating and passing out information sheets.

The focus of the first meeting was a discussion of how much money would be enough, where to keep it hidden and whether converting it to gold or silver would be a better idea. Edith flicked on the overhead projector to share the first of many book titles, all devoted to assisting civilians prepare for Y2K.

Annie, having no intentions of attending another meeting, ignored the scathing messages left by Edith on her answering machine.

As January became February became March, then April and May, Annie overheard numerous conversations peppered with Y2K panic. Should one practice turning off utilities? How long would batteries last? What about paying bills? Would there be a run on prescription drugs? Was it better to have a hand crank radio than a battery operated one? Where was the best place to buy dust masks and how long could you use one?

The agenda went up for June indicating the meeting would, by necessity, run longer than the allotted fifteen minutes. There were two items – first, the proper disposal of excrement and other waste, and second, a request for residents to bring packets of dehydrated foods so people would know what was available as well as which ones they found preferable. There followed the admonition that if you brought no samples, you’d do no sampling.

“What will you bring, Annie?”

“Edith, somehow the idea of discussing poop disposal before partaking in a dehydrated potluck meal holds no appeal. I don’t know why you derive such pleasure in alarming people.”

Edith straightened her back and hardened her voice. “I am raising awareness of a serious situation and encouraging people to be prepared so as to avoid panic.”

“I’ve got news for you, sister dear. Some of our more feeble friends now live on the verge of hyperventilation since you’ve tossed out the tidbit about people needing to use the stairs because the elevators will be unreliable at best.”

Simon, ever concerned for how far his meagre pension could be stretched, approached management to ask about a contingency plan. The brusque response was, “Everything is under control. Things will continue as always.”

When word of this reached Edith, she snorted. “Hah, Stan, our man without a plan. He and his ilk are why we must look out for ourselves.”

Prior to what would have been the scheduled July meeting, Edith called a summer recess, knowing it was better that than a steady decline in attendance. Her three faithful assistants, the grunts as several now referred to them, hand-delivered personalized thank you cards to all committed attendees. Inside each card was a specially made Y2K bookmark with a hand printed notice of the September meeting agenda on the back.

For many, the previous months’ tension abated as they enjoyed things such as lawn bowling, working in the common garden, visiting with out-of-town friends and relatives. All seemed happy to revert to doing what they’d always intended to do in retirement.

Edith's summer was taken up with reading everything she could get her hands on, continuing to update the list of book titles to share with Y2KPPG. She lent books to anyone with a desire to be well informed and asked others to consider contributing books and articles to their growing library.

In September she kept her eye out for sales and let her followers know where they could find bargains on such essentials as warm sleeping bags. Edith had arranged to show a documentary, Y2K Senior Survival Guide. The meeting was well attended, in part because of the smell of hot, buttered popcorn wafting through the hallways. 

October and November meetings focused on picking up last minute essentials and practising ways to denounce nay-sayers and convince those sitting on the fence to become involved with what the Y2KPPG was doing.

In December, Edith made a large calendar and set it up on an easel in the foyer. Each evening, after dinner, she drew her red marker from her bag and X’d out another day.

On New Year’s Eve the folks at the second seating were subdued. Several residents had either eaten early or had gone out, either to contemplate the end of the world as they knew it or like Annie, to remove themselves from the doom and gloom of the building.

All was quiet by ten o’clock. Checking that the coast was clear, Edith pulled her heavy shopping cart down the hall and surreptitiously dropped off supplies outside Annie’s door. Oh, she knew she’d said she wouldn’t help Annie but, all tough talk aside, Edith could not abandon her baby sister.

She returned to her suite, and shut down her computer and monitor to prevent the destruction of her files. While her ritual New Year’s Eve treat was popping, she opened the bottle of wine she’d saved for the occasion, and poured a large glass. She picked up her book and began to read. The novel Y2K: It’s Already Too Late seemed the appropriate choice for the evening. Soon her attention drifted, and fight as she might, she succumbed to a deep sleep.

Edith jolted awake. Peering at the clock she was shocked to discover it was 12:01. What was she hearing? Booms, crackles, pops, whistles, sizzles. Fireworks from the fairgrounds? She peeked through the side of her curtain, and seeing nothing untoward, turned on her TV.

Why were those fools celebrating?

Edith switched through channels, holding her breath, then gulped in air. She stumbled to her desk, booted up her computer and opened the browser. She went to the major international news outlets, desperate and disappointed by the absence of catastrophe.

By 2 AM, January 1, 2000, the library shelf was empty, the easel and chart had disappeared from the foyer, the red marker was returned to its rightful place in the desk drawer. Edith crawled in to bed, too despondent to even brush her teeth.