Yesterday, I received an e-mail that my toaster oven had arrived. I printed the e-mail, as instructed, and drove to the store, hoping that I could easily find the "Merchandise Pick-Up" location. Conveniently enough, it had a separate entrance right next to the store entrance. That was where my luck ended.
Inside, I passed my e-mail printout under a scanner, which promptly did not recognize the barcode. I tried again, with the same fruitless result. What's a technophobe to do? I pushed the button to summon assistance.
The kid tried the barcode twice, with no better luck than I had. Then he punched some secret sequence of numbers so that he'd be allowed to enter the order number. No soap. He asked me to enter my last name. Not found. He asked me to enter my address. Not found. "We've been having problems like this all day," he claimed then went to search the storage room. When he returned, he pointed out the delivery address on the e-mail. My item had been sent to a different store than the one where I placed the order!
Go back to car. Drive back toward home then continue an almost equal distance the other direction. Mutter curses and imprecations the whole way.
At the other store, I had to enter the store and find an assistant who said that I'd have to go back out to my car and drive to the exact opposite side of the building to find the Merchandise Pick-Up area. Once there, the scanner did not read my barcode, either! I tried again, as steam started rising from my ears. I hit the cancel button, and that's when the machine claimed my item indeed was in the store and would be brought to me within five minutes.
By the time I got home, I had just enough time to e-mail a friend then shower before bed. I had to save setting up my new toaster oven for this afternoon. (It appears to work fine, but dinner is only halfway done.)
So that's the first "technology hates me" rant. Here's the second.
The Powers That Be decided that the managers all would receive new mobile phones. (I haven't even been here a year yet, and they're already giving me a new phone.) However, the admin. assistant was at a training this afternoon, but that's okay, because all we have to do is call the toll-free number to transfer service to our new phone. Yeah, right.
First, how are you supposed to open the effing box? It turns out that the little, orange dot on the side of the box (actually, a plastic, coffin-like capsule) indicates the end of the adhesive strip which holds the lid and base together. After you scrape at it for five minutes, it will take pity on you and raise up, so you can pull and peel it away from the box – whose lid promptly separates and falls to the floor, under your desk.
Okay, now the phone is somehow held onto a plastic tray within the box (on top of the charging cord and earphones that I don't intend to use). I don't even know what I did, but I managed to get the phone off the tray in under ten minutes.
First, charge the phone. Second, find something to do in your office while the phone is charging. Third, shut off the phone (which, according to someone's logic, is the first step listed on the instruction sheet). Fourth, call the toll-free number for businesses, and follow whatever instructions are given. Fifth, listen to all the voice mail options, continually choosing the "other" one because starting service isn't mentioned as any of the choices.
Hey, I got put through to a real human being! Even better, she sounded as if she speaks English as a first language!
I gave her my name. I told her the phone number. I spelled my company name for her. She told me to turn on the device. Once the manufacturer's logo finally disappeared, I saw a screen changing from language to language. When it finally got to English, it told me to touch the screen to continue. Then I had to choose my country. Then it asked for "Wi-Fi" or "iTunes" information.
I don't have the foggiest what that means, and I told the woman so. "Well, what did you do when you got your last phone?" she asked. "Nothing," I replied. "It was handed to me already set up."
She suggested I phone my I.T. department. (I don't know what that means, either, but I do know it's the computer people.) Do you think I could find out how to put her on hold and use the second line of my office phone? Of course not. (I never got an instruction sheet for the phone, I guess since I'm not supposed to be sitting in my office anyway.) Do you think that the coworker in the office next to mine was there so I could use his phone? Of course not. I had to borrow the mechanic's cell phone, consult the phone list... and learn that only the extensions are listed for you to call via the office phone, not the entire number that you'd have to dial from an outside phone. Next attempt: call the front office and have them transfer me. "To the I.T. department here or the one at the administration building?" Sheesh.
You probably have guessed already that I chose the wrong one. After leaving me on hold (or hoping I'd hang up from frustration) for five minutes (and, yes, the cell phone woman was patiently waiting on the other line all this time), the tech. came back and said that the admin. assistant had all the information I needed. You remember, the woman who's at training all afternoon and won't be back until the morning?
The cell. phone woman sounded genuinely concerned, since we were cut off in the middle of the process, but... She said that the phone set-up could be done via the new phone, as long as the admin. has the right Wi-Fi information. Then I should test to make sure that I can make and receive calls and that I can connect to the internet. (Why should I be able to do that? I can't even do that with my current phone, which is the same model as the new one.) If any problems occur, we can call them back. (Maybe she meant if any
more problems occur.) In the meantime, I might or might not be able to use my old phone to make/receive calls, send/receive texts, and send/receive e-mails.
Given my technophobia (and technology's misanthropy – at least toward me), you can believe me when I say that I wasted two and a half hours between starting the phone charging and having to abandon the process.
But, wait, there's more!
I prepped for the end of the day and realized that I forgot to bring the quarter I need for shopping cart rental at the grocery store, where I was going after work. (No, they're not misers; I get the quarter back when I return the cart.) So, I asked the mechanic (the only other person left in the building, as everyone else had clocked out and gone home already). Did he have any quarters? Of course not. Were there any in his truck? Of course not. Were there any in his desk? No, but he "borrowed" one from an employee's desk.
As I turned onto my street, I cursed myself aloud. I had gotten onto my ant trail home and completely forgotten to drive to the grocery store!
Obviously, my brain is in no longer functioning properly, after an afternoon frustrated by technology. Groceries will wait until tomorrow. I locked my apartment door behind me, and God help anyone who wants me to go back out before I leave for work in the morning.
