Tag: ai

The Lone Ranger and other digital discoveries

“Who was that masked man?”
— AI

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One long-ago sweltering summer night in Seymour, Texas, a salesman sat in our living room. He wasn’t just selling books; he was peddling the concentrated wisdom of humanity, bound in majestic, burgundy volumes, gold-lettered with “Encyclopedia Britannica.”

For his closing pitch, the door-to-door entrepreneur leaned in with the confidence of a magician who possessed every secret of the universe. “Ask me a question, son,” he said, looking at nine-year-old me while holding up his book of knowledge for all to see. “Any question at all, I have the answer right here.”

My dad nodded, hinting that he favored the treasure trove of unlocked mysteries to grace our living room. So, I took a breath and fired the ultimate 1950s curveball kid question: “What was the Lone Ranger’s real name?”

The poor guy didn’t just stumble; he went into a full-scale intellectual tailspin. He stammered, as his fingers frantically rummaged through the “L” and “R” volumes … even the “K” hoping for some clue under “Kimosabe.” Grasping for a lifeline that just wasn’t there. My father, possibly pitying the man who had been defeated by a fictional masked man and a grade school kid, bought the books anyway.

The Lone Ranger’s identity remained a mystery that night. But hey, we now owned twenty-something volumes of heavy-duty paperweights to show for it.

Fast forward fifty-three years to 2010. Britannica printed its final physical volumes, ending a 244-year run as the “go-to” source for people who had lots of shelf space and very strong lower backs. It still exists today, but only as an online source.

My own transition to the digital age has been equally dramatic. Back in the early 80s, I famously declared, “I’ll never need to know how to operate a computer; just bring me the printouts to read.” Those words have since aged worse than yesterday’s Mexican restaurant leftovers. Now a card-carrying citizen of Cyberspace, my dependance on devices is frankly somewhat humbling.

Giving up precious paper, my income is a digital ghost that graces my bank account via direct deposit. My bills are paid by invisible imps on the internet. And cash has been replaced by that small piece of plastic I lose every time I turn around.

I shop for things I can’t find locally and expect them to arrive on my porch before I’ve even finished the checkout process. I can “visit” more friends and family in a single afternoon on social media than I used to see in a year of Sunday drives.

My entire life now travels in my pocket. Even to the doctor’s waiting room, where it saves me from having to read a 2017 issue of People Magazine for the third time. Speaking of doctors, my medical records are a heartbeat away on a patient portal. I can find more information about my health in sixty seconds than a stressed physician could provide in a ten-minute consultation—plus, I get answers to all the questions I was too intimidated to ask wearing only a hospital gown.

However, having the world at my fingertips has been a double-edged sword at times. When “the good old ways” failed, it was a minor inconvenience. Missed a call? They’ll call back. If a check got lost in the mail, I just wrote another one. But today, if my device so much as blinks, I develop a tension headache that would make an Excedrin commercial feel like a spa retreat.

Yet, some people complain about “wasting too much time on devices,” and I agree. We’ve abandoned face-to-face visits for impersonal non-stop thumbing on screens. There is, however, a certain magical value in the speed. A wealth of information that once required a salesman and twenty-four volumes to access is now available in seconds.

And the best part? The new age of cyber searching finally gave me closure. In the blink of an eye, AI told me the adventures of the Lone Ranger were based on a real person named John Reid.

Bless you, encyclopedia salesman. If only you could see me now. Struggling to seize the answers to the many other secrets AI holds.

—Leon Aldridge

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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’

AI that doesn’t look so … AI-ish

“Alexa told me to take a break. Who’s working for whom here?”
— Ginni Rometty, Former CEO of IBM

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“How’s retirement?” I’m asked that often since that retirement party I never planned.

My ready reply is, “It’ll do ‘til a better gig comes along.”

“Always said I’d never retire,” I told my retired friend. “I can’t do things retired people do. Tried gardening, but all I grew was older and crankier. Tried an RV, but realized camping for me is a 4-star hotel with a view of trees.”

“I was glad to leave the office behind,” my friend said. “Too much change, and now with this AI stuff.”

“C’mon,” I teased. “We had artificial intelligence in the office before computers. Remember that guy we worked with who …”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he laughed. “Office culture. The way we worked.”

I paused to consider his comments. Measuring my career by office changes rather than years gave me a fresh perspective. The very definition of a “day at the office” has been rewritten since I started working.

That was at age 13 in five-and-dime stores, sweeping floors and assembling bikes on Saturdays for 25¢ an hour. A few years and a college degree later, I moved up to insurance claims adjusting at $250 a week. That bought me a starter home and a new car with money left over.

Life was good.

The American workplace back then really was different, though. Even during that first office job in the 1970s, it had been rapidly changing since the 50s. None-the-less, offices still reflected postwar traditions and formality.

Formal hierarchies. Clear distinctions between management and employees. Communication was direct, usually in person, and utilized titles and surnames when addressing colleagues or superiors.

Office dress codes ruled. Coat, tie, and dress shoes for men. Ladies wore skirts, dresses, and heels. 

Today, that rigid, status-driven society has morphed into business models that emphasize teamwork and recognition that good ideas come from all minds. Plus, the concept of “casual Friday” 30 years ago introduced “dress down” offices in many workplaces.

The wise words of one supervisor who mentored me back then still stick in my mind, however. “If you want to be regarded as a professional, you have to dress like a professional.”

Acceptable professional behaviors now and then differ. Practices now considered unprofessional and unhealthy were everyday occurrences then.

Like smoking. My boss at that first job smoked. in the office As did the secretary (now called the “administrative assistant”). But it was a time when almost half of all Americans were smokers. When smoke-filled air and stinky ashtrays at home and in the workplace were common fare. Even after moving into the communication field a few years later, newspaper offices were filled with smokers with up to half the employees smoking at their desks.

Good grief! Even my doctor and dentist smoked back then. While providing care in the exam room. A Surgeon General’s report on smoking was largely ignored for 30 years, until the 1990s when smoking bans first gained support.

Also not that long ago, job security meant long-term company loyalty with a company pension. Today’s landscape is a ‘gig economy.’ A workforce where people have multiple careers. Where employers offer employee-managed 401(k) plans and company investment opportunities.

Then there’s technology: a shift from typewriters and Dictaphones in my first office job to computers, then to voice-to-text capabilities, each transition leading to less paper use—except for the one colleague that is. The one who, despite adapting to email, still printed and filed a copy of every message.

In conclusion, my retired friend and I agreed that the biggest change in modern offices might well be the elimination of offices altogether. The remote position culture: working from home or on the road, always reachable by email and text, working non-standard hours.

“And now it’s AI taking jobs,” my friend shook his head.

“Oh, that doesn’t worry me,” I retorted. “I may be going to work for AI.”

“What the …?” he quizzed.

“Yep,” I said. “Looking at a new part-time retirement gig. Uses all my old skills. Proofreading, clarifying, and fact-checking AI-generated documents for companies wanting to make them look … well, less AI-ish.

“Makes me wonder though,” I smiled. “These days, who really is working for whom?”

—Leon Aldridge

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Leon Aldridge is an “enjoying semi-retirement until a better gig comes along” newspaper editor and publisher, communication and marketing practitioner, and column writer. His columns are featured in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’