Young People.

Don't get me started! Easy-peasy point the phone and presto! Upload instantly to all social media everywhere in the universe. They don't even know what they're missing. Nope. Way too easy. Spoiled brats is what they are!
Why, back in my day, we'd need to use something called a light meter to figure exposure possibilities and set the camera to correspond to that reading, manually, if you can believe that! But way before that, stand awkwardly in a completely dark closet

hand-rolling bulk unexposed film

into canisters that one would insert into the back of a camera

, meaning we'd need to open the camera

and close it back up again. We would do that again later to remove said film canister when done shooting with the measly short 36-exposure strip of chemical-laden plastic film

. And not all of those pics were properly exposed no matter how we pre-calculated

the exposure. Can you believe it? Frustrating? No! It built character is what it did! Oh, we weren't done. Far from it. Back into the room-that-was-without-light, maybe with a dim red lightbulb

on in the corner to warm us and keep us company, to rip that film

right out of the tiny canister (have your bottle opener with you?) and wrap that sucker around some steel spool, hoping it won't kink, and then into yet another larger canister and pour

some most probable cancer-causing smelly and expensive caustic liquid at some exact temperature

into that metal grenade-looking thing, do some sort of a dance

that to anyone else would make you look stupid,

stirring it up a bit for a while

, pour that liquid out, hopefully into a sink, and then pour

yet another temperature-controlled

liquid into it and perform another dance

, look at a glowing timer

for a bit of time. Rinse with pure water. Rinse again. Ugh! Then pry that thing apart, hand the unruly plastic strip up on a clothes pin along a wire or a coat hanger. Put a weight on the bottom of all of them to keep them from curling back on themselves. At that point you could turn on a real light

going completely blind

for a few minutes from the abrupt change in lighting levels. Drink a beer

or something congratulating yourself

for making it this far into the photographic journey without going mad

.
Done yet? Hell no! When recovered from the previous ordeal, back into the room-that-would-cause-claustrophobia to begin part two. Those strips of plastic

are dry now. Unclip and scissor

8-inch pieces from those, place them carefully between a piece of glass and photo paper of a grade that by trial and error might work to judge which shots miraculously turned out and might work as a full-sized print

. Flip those light

switches back to red, and fidget with the enlarger tower, set the bigger timer

for half a minute or so. Using pre-cleaned color-coded plastic trays that no one would ever use for anything else in their right mind, and then, you guessed it, pour

into each yet more horrible pre-mixed and temperature-controlled

chemicals . With rubber or wooden tongs
(why tongs? Your fingers would be eaten to the bone instantly without them), play the moving game with that unwieldily piece of paper through all of them. Rinse.

Keep those chemical in the tray for a while. You don't want to mix those twice in one day! Dry. Turn on real light

and prepare to go blind

again. Judge which shot(s) will make the cut. Surprise! Most won't!
Drink another beer

. Go out on a walk

. Then back for part three. Repeat most of the steps in the previous paragraph except this time will be even more complicated. Each and every one of those chosen few negatives

that-might-be-appreciated-by-not-many-people will now be tortured into a miniature medieval rack press and placed carefully into the enlarger for some very precise and certainly eye-straining micro-focusing, again, in almost complete darkness. Red light is your buddy. By this time you've remembered to bring a radio

in the room with you to pass the time

with marginally less mental strain. The big glowing timer

awaits your call. The tongs

and trays also await your command. Don't get cocky. You'll still have no clue if this will even work at all or will result in happy prints

. Thus, one by every single one, those prints

will eventually dry for your inspection. You clean

the room, tossing now unusable caustic chemicals down the sink hoping you won't be killing all the fish

downstream once the pipes empty into the pond.
Oh, are you done now? Maybe. Wash the yellow chemical stains off your hands

and take a shower

. These much labored prints

haven't even been looked at by anyone else yet.
This is the fun and excitement those Young People are missing! They have no respect. We did it our way, and we liked it!