Frightened by Y2K Bug, Many Go to Extremes
On a quiet cul-de-sac in an upscale Newport Beach neighborhood, preparations are being made for New Year’s pandemonium.
Inside one home, a dapper blond man breezes past several computers, a digital television set and a DVD player before stopping in front of a locked closet door.
“Please don’t use my name,” begs the man--a corporate attorney at an Orange County law firm--as he fiddles with the lock. “My co-workers don’t know. Most of my family doesn’t know. Even my wife thinks this is nuts. If I’m wrong, I don’t want people to think I’m some freak.”
The door opens to reveal the 35-year-old lawyer’s stash for the year 2000: 12 months’ worth of packaged meals, canisters of propane and containers of water. A new shotgun and several boxes of shells lean against a wall.
As the clock ticks down to the millennium, so too nears the deadline for the year 2000 bug, a computer programming flaw that has many people predicting chaos on Jan. 1.
Yet Y2K the computer problem--which taps into society’s deepest fears about technology and control--is evolving into Y2K the social problem.
As a result, otherwise rational people are taking what many would consider extreme measures to ensure that life as they know it remains the same after Jan. 1. It also represents a stunning rejection by grass-roots America of the technology establishment and the federal government.
Just how serious the electronic problem will be remains uncertain. Some fear that the nation’s power, communications, water and financial systems--all strung together by computers--could malfunction, creating worldwide chaos. Others predict only minor inconveniences.
Either way, hundreds of thousands of average Americans across the country are taking no chances. In Pasadena, a housewife stores hundreds of gallons of water. An insurance executive in Kansas City stockpiles enough food for his family for five years. A doctor in San Diego preserves months’ worth of dried food at a cannery run by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Even small measures, when magnified by millions, can have an explosive effect on the economy. Families deciding to withdraw a few extra dollars by year’s end means the Treasury must print an extra $75 billion. Fears of air disasters could prevent people from booking flights over the New Year’s holiday, leaving hundreds of planes empty or grounded.
“The Y2K problem is creating a national sense of panic, just as we saw with the gas crisis, the Cuban missile crisis and the Cold War,” said psychologist Larry Rosen, co-founder of Byte Back, a technology consultation firm in Orange.
“When the president of the United States talks about it in his national address, even normal human beings are going to get anxious,” he said. “The concern with Y2K, however, is how far people will go with their anxiety and concern.”
Though no one can predict precisely what will happen when the clock strikes midnight on Dec. 31, few doubt the existence of the Y2K bug.
The problem stems from older computer systems’ inability to recognize years beyond 1999. These systems were commonly programmed to use only the last two digits of a given year, so they may read “00” in the date as 1900--and perhaps crash.
The result: Government agencies and corporations around the world are spending hundreds of billions of dollars to repair date-sensitive systems.
So far, there are early signs of compliance. The Social Security system is 100% prepared. The majority of state governments have completed more than half their fixes. Utility and telecommunications firms say the number of date-sensitive chips in their equipment appears to be lower than expected.
Technological glitches have become so commonplace that hardly a second thought is given to a PC crashing because of a software bug or an electrical outage. Yet one in four Americans still believes the Y2K problem will directly affect them, according to a poll released at a recent meeting of the World Congress on Information and Technology.
Why shouldn’t they?
Politicians raise the specter of global recession as a result of Y2K.
The Christian Coalition has suggested on its Web site that the faithful should begin to stockpile food, water and clothing.
Even Hollywood is set to join the fray this year with two films revolving around deadly Y2K scenarios.
“We need to start hearing some calm voices to stop this from becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy,” said Alistair Stewart, a senior advisor for research firm Giga Information Group. “It’s one thing to be prudent. It’s another to go completely overboard.”
Between Prudence and Paranoia
On a recent Saturday, hundreds of people flocked to Sierra Madre, a quiet town north of Los Angeles. At Sierra Madre Congregational Church, many gathered inside the white chapel, greeting neighbors while browsing among the tables laden with survival gear. Oil lanterns. Portable toilets. Solar radios.
Here they preach a practical approach to Y2K and life in general: Take steps, no matter how small, to gain control over your future. Last month marked the start of a yearlong outreach program that includes a series of seminars on Y2K.
This free seminar opened with a refresher course on earthquakes. People nodded in agreement as April Kelcy, a disaster preparedness expert, talked about bolting down appliances and storing water.
Slowly, the conversation shifted from quakes to fires to Y2K. To the refrain of “Be prepared, be prepared, be prepared,” the attentive crowd took notes.
“All of this is a personal choice, to do what makes you feel secure,” Kelcy said.
Just before lunch, Kelcy’s presentation turned to food. The bad: rice and legumes, which require water to prepare. The good: canned goods and urban foraging (the art of eating neighborhood plants).
For many people, the line between prudence and paranoia is difficult to draw. But taking steps--whether attending a Y2K seminar or making backup copies of important documents--can help people feel they have some control over an unknown future, said Carol Goldberg, a New York clinical psychologist who specializes in stress management.
“We are most anxious by things we cannot control,” Goldberg said. “To control this stress, people will shore up what they feel are their basic needs.”
Food and water storage are big business. At Grant Boys in Newport Beach recently, the parking lot was filled with Mercedeses, Lexuses and BMWs--hardly befitting the stereotype of a store that specializes in survival goods.
“We’re not seeing the guy wearing fatigues with a gun slung over his shoulder,” said store manager Randy Garrell. “The people who are coming in are well-educated, white-collar types.”
Elsewhere, people are dropping $5,000 and more on water barrels and ready-to-eat meals. Major Surplus & Survival in Gardena saw its business quadruple over the last eight months thanks to people stockpiling for Y2K, said store controller Sherry Graupman.
Despite such concerns, some people see the Y2K problem as a community-building blessing. When Diann Powell learned about the computer flaw last year, she assumed she would have a place to turn for aid.
Scouring the Internet, Powell uncovered hundreds of predictions--some based on fact but most based on rumor--about possible catastrophes. She found numerous links to support groups but none in her own Mar Vista neighborhood.
“It wasn’t the homemade sites that sell generators and dried food that got to me,” said Powell, 52. “It was reading suggestions on the American Red Cross site about having food on hand that made me realize this isn’t about one person helping herself. This is about communities helping each other.”
So Powell quit her job at an earthquake safety firm. Now she spends her time promoting the Westside Y2K Preparedness Task Force.
Last month, Powell launched her community effort. A pile of photocopied fliers were stacked neatly in a box, their cheerful, earnest tone designed to entreat neighbors to unite and prepare for the calamity.
She stopped at the first house and rang the bell. A man peered through the front window.
“I don’t want any.”
At the next house, the door opened. And closed.
Finally, Powell made a connection. A woman wandered from the living room, where a tousle-haired child was watching cartoons. She said she’d read about Y2K, only enough to be worried about something she doesn’t fully understand.
“How could computers impact our water supply?” she asked.
Powell launched into her pitch about embedded chips, faulty dates and the importance of creating a local network. “If the power goes out, we need to know who’s elderly and who has children with special needs,” Powell said. “Even if nothing happens, we need to use this opportunity to tear down the suburban walls that separate us and rebuild a real sense of community.”
The woman agreed with Powell and took the flier. The pair exchanged phone numbers, promising to keep in touch.
