I Felt Like an Idiot Last Night

Last weekend, I posted an ad on Craigslist for an extra light meter I had. The meter was a Minolta AutoMeter IV F and it was in like-new condition. (Plus I had the carrying case.) I also own a Konica Minolta VF, an almost identical meter, albeit it sold for about a $100 more than its descendant. The Konica Minolta is the meter I use nearly every time I shoot.

Don't ask how I ended up with two, nearly identical, light meters. It's a convoluted story: One that requires too much background and cast-of-characters explanation. Just know I came by it legitimately and I came by it for free. Also, having a second meter had nothing to do with carrying a back-up. I have back-ups for much of my gear but don't feel compelled to carry a back-up light meter. My opinion that two meters in my bag was one meter too many prompted me to sell it. Of course, a couple of extra bucks in my pocket for something I really didn't need also prompted me to place the ad.

I didn't receive any inquiries from the ad until late yesterday afternoon after returning from a meeting at Larry Flynt's corporate HQ in Beverly Hills. I wasn't meeting with Larry, though I've met him a number of times, but his head of production. (BTW, the meeting went very, very well.)

The man looking to purchase the meter wanted to hook up at a nearby Starbucks. "I'll see you there," I said.

I arrived at the Starbucks, light meter in hand, and we sat down. The guy, a retired Navy vet who works for the VA in HR teaching IT -- I love acronyms -- brought along a Nikon speedlite to test the meter. Ultimately, the fact that this guy is a Nikon guy made me feel even more like an idiot, given that I'm a Canon guy.

So I set the meter to ISO 100, non-cord mode, @ 125. I pressed the button on the side of the meter (just like I do with my Konica Minolta) and he fired the strobe, startling more than a few Starbuck's customers in the room. I looked at the face of the meter: Nothing!

We tried it again.

Again, nothing.

"I'm doing something wrong here, " I said to the guy. (Although I had no idea what it was I was doing wrong.) I should also add, up till this time, I had never tested the meter as a flash meter: I had only tested it's ambient-light reading capabilities.

We tried it a few more times. Still nothing.

I was beginning to feel like an idiot. I kept insisting I use the meter's predecessor, the Konica Minolta VF, all the time and had no idea what was wrong.

The guy was beginning to suspect I was trying to sell him a a bum meter, in spite of its pristine, as-new, appearance. (I guess that's why he brought along the speedlite. D'uh!)

I pulled out my iPhone, went on the web, and Googled the Minolta meter, searching for some instructional aid. (I didn't have the Minolta's user guide.) While I was iPhoning for info, the guy kept messing with the meter and his speedlite, flashing away in the Starbucks, and telling me how the last meter he purchased from someone on Craigslist turned out to be defective.

Oh great. I was looking like a meter hustler.

My iPhone Google search netted a bunch of results but Safari, the iPhone's browser, wasn't able to open any files that would shed light on the light meter issue. (iPhones aren't replacements for computers, even though they allow web access.)

Finally, the guy said, "I'm calling my friend. He knows what he's doing with these things."

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" I didn't say.

Long story short: For some reason, Minolta decided to change the way you capture a non-cord flash with this meter... this meter that looks and operates, in nearly all ways, like a clone of my Konica Minolta. It turns out, courtesy of the guy's friend, that instead of pressing and holding the button on the side of the meter to measure a flash, like one does with my Konica Minolta, the Minolta IV F has you press the button once, causing the non-cord mode icon to blink off and on. You then fire the strobe without keeping the button depressed and it measures the light's output.

Bingo! Worked like a charm. We performed the operation a number of times to verify it wasn't an intermittent success.

The Nikon guy smiled. (Did I detect a hint of glib mockery in his smile?) He handed me the cash, thanked me, and said goodbye, leaving me sitting in Starbucks, alone and somewhat bemused, feeling like a GWC idiot! (The "C" in "GWC" referring to Canon.)

But at least I was $125 richer.

The semi-artsy-ish pic at the top is Cytherea from a ways back.