Everything has a number put to it. Every item you purchase is assigned a bar code number. A long number with dark bars above each number that somewhere in a computer translates to everything that is known to man about that particular item. According to our lovely Google:
Trina Machacek
“Barcodes started with the patenting of the concept in the 1940s, leading to the first successful commercial scan in 1974. The first item to be scanned was a pack of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit chewing gum at a Marsh supermarket in Troy, Ohio.” Oh swell, now our buying habits are followed every time you use your “savers membership” cards in the stores where you shop. I know this to be a fact because the grocery store I go to sends me coupons of things I buy. I don’t like that they know these things about me. But! Yes, a bar coded and scannable “but.” I use the coupons. How messed up is that?!
You would think that at some point we could run out of numbers. But nope. The universe is innumerable. If by some chance the bar code system would run out of numbers, which we are told will NEVER happen. If we do run out of bar code numbers, the next generation of keeping track of things is what is called the new GS1 Digital Link, a modern, web-connected QR code that can hold far more information. In short that means that stores and all other places that sell your, let’s say underwear, will be able to tell not only where those undies were made, but what they are made of, how many are made, bought, sold, returned, and hopefully that those returned were thrown away!! Yes, to follow the life of a pair of underwear is just the tip of the tighty-whitey world.
Of course that is not where I wanted to go today. Thank goodness. Too much talk of underwear could lead to many under the table jokes. So let’s talk about the number of candles we all put on our various birthday cakes. If you need to have a fire extinguisher, or even two, standing by when ALL of your years are counted with candles on your birthday cake, good for you. You deserve to EAT THE CAKE. A friend of mine, actually two friends, in two different towns have recently gone to birthday parties for people they know that turned 100 years old. I find that as amazing as the possibility of more and more of the people alive today will live to be in the 100 Birthday Club. I am not sure I want to be that old. Happily, I don’t have to worry about making that decision. I have trouble deciding if I want walnuts in my chocolate chip cookies. I can’t imagine having to make a life decision about how long I will be breathing on Mother Earth. I do know that to have the perfect chocolate chip cookie there should be zero chocolate chips in them. I know I am not the only one who thinks that! Oh great, now I need to bake no chipped cookies.
One of the ladies going to her centurion’s birthday party mentioned that she has known him for about 45 years. I told her even though 45 years is a very long time to know someone; did she realize that she hasn’t known him for even half his life? Just think of how long you have known people you know. Think of the one you’ve known for a very long time. Have you known them for at least half their lifetimes? That is a weird thought. My longest friendship is now about 60 years old. Now that’s nearly a lifetime as we are both the same age of that 60 plus a few more. Not very many of us can say that.
Once when going through old things in my pantry and refrigerator, I loved when I was told this, “It’s a good thing we don’t have any expiration dates printed on ourselves.” Oh how true. I would never want to look. Of course since I had some really old, like from the last century old, boxes of Jell-O in my pantry, I can rest assured I would not look or even take a peek at an expiration date on the bottom of my foot either.
To bring this all back full circle. What if we were bar coded when we’re born? I can tell you from retail experience, I’ve scanned a gallon of rug shampoo, and it came up a gas-powered weed eater! So no, I don’t think the system is perfect enough to bar code the human race. I don’t’ want to be scanned as the menu item Number 4 at my favorite Mexican restaurant.
Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at itybytrina@yahooc.com
