BY MARK GARAY
“Hello, how are you?
Have you been alright through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely
Lonely nights? That's what I'd say
I'd tell you everything if you'd pick up that telephone
Yeah, yeah, yeah”
ELO
“Telephone Line”, 1976
I was in bed, asleep.
I’d been working overnights a lot. It was about 10am when my dog and I both opened our eyes and glanced at each other. The power had gone out. Fan, a/c, and general household noise, all gone. We panicked for four seconds.
Then we went back to sleep. Kinda like we do when we refuse to acknowledge overnight bathroom breaks because it’s just too cozy in bed.
30 minutes after that, when the sweat began to flow, we rose. The race was on. I had to control this thing because I knew there’d be problems. There’s always a problem. Getting crises solved these days online posed obstacles both exhausting and soul-draining. Tackling a task over the internet. My stomach is already churning.
Before you start predicting this as the beginning of a “back in MY day..” sermon, let me assure that’s EXACTLY what this is.
There was a place for me in the analog world. In fact I would love to watch my smart ass kids negotiate the ways and operational expectations of growing up in the 60s and 70s. Back then, if you had an interruption in electricity, there was a universal protocol. YOU CALLED THE DAMN ELECTRIC COMPAY. DUH? For all I can recall, someone always answered.
You gave them your address, and they figured it out. If not, you had to visit the office and sort it out over a chest-high glass partition, face-to-face, with someone who could answer real-time questions with available resources on site. This was the firewall. You knew if you did this, the problem would get solved without a username or passcode. It was a pain in the ass, but it always worked. Back then, not only did you KNOW what to do, you knew HOW to do it. (deep breath).
I still did not know how to swim against the current of passwords, usernames, and weird questions I either can’t remember or don’t understand. To me, the internet is a vast expanse of open confusion and mass loneliness, with specific paths carved for people with maps. Problem is I’m getting bogged down by the terrain. Don’t get me wrong. The modern inventions are wonderful. Just not when you don’t know how to use them.
The first step was present analysis. My inventory included an IPHONE 8, with features I don’t use because I never knew I needed them. This antique iPhone was on 3%. I also have an iPad that doesn’t dial out. I could call my son to call Gexa for me. But he’s at work. I could take my chances on my phone. Or I can use the iPad to contact customer service. What’s more efficient? Oh shit.. The dog is begging to go out for a walk. Last time I ignored that, I wound up with a pile of dark “pudding” on my carpet. Grab the keys, throw on some slippers. This is getting serious.
1 number 2 and 2 number ones later, I’m back in my pad, roasting like chestnuts in July. Damn it. My phone just died. I’ll use my iPad to reach out to Gexa online. Google Gexa. Where’s the chat option? Maybe it’s this. No, that’s frequently asked questions. Can’t find customer service. Where’s the customer SERVICE? WHERE THE HELL IS CUSTOMER SERVICE? Why isn’t it listed? I’ll text my son. No answer. It’s getting hotter. Try searching for a possible cause for all this. Where’s my username and password? It’s not working.
A Pew research study recently found that 96% of adults aged 50-64 use the internet. That’s a lot of people like me. Short-fused and pining retroactively for that glass partition. With problems like this, you don’t just feel frustrated, you quickly feel defeated. Admittedly, our cognition and memory fade as we get older, and that might affect the way we experience and act. But if I get another prompt requesting my password that can’t be retrieved with a thumbprint, my head will actually cave in like a downtown sinkhole.
Finally, I found a way in. Ok. My card had been compromised a few weeks ago. I had cancelled it and I owe them money. I can probably pay this online. There’s the button. It says “pay here”. I press it. Load up all my card info. Why won’t THAT work? Another password prompt. It’s not working. 3 times now I’ve typed out my card data. My phone is dead. I guess I will have to, I’ll go ask a neighbor if they might charge it for me. I ring around 7 or 8 units before I find someone home. He’s a young Palestinian man with a heavy beard and green jockey shorts.
“Sorry, man. I don’t have an Apple chord.”
“Thanks.”
4 or 5 more doorbells. An old man answers with an oxygen tank. His pad smells like avocado and his face is the texture of play-Do. Never mind sir.
Finally, an attractive woman on the 3rd floor. “Do you own an Apple IPhone?”
“I sure do”, she answered. Thank God. I give her mine. I’m relieved. 10 minutes oughtta do it. I’m half way back home, and she comes running towards me.
“My chord doesn’t fit your phone!!”
Major Bummer! Then it hit me. I went home and walked back to the third floor, to the friendly woman’s stoop.
“You can use MY chord!”, I tell her.
“Yes!”
Somehow, confetti begins to fill the sky, and I hear the theme from Rocky. It works.
In all, over two hours of accumulating heat and accompanying sweat, a near fruitless attempt at finding passcodes and protocols, a lack of operational resources to address the problem, and an angry dog.
I get it. The technology has made our lives easier and more interesting.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find the magnify option on my phone. The print on my medications is really small.
Now if I can just find that on my phone..
GARANDOM
Why do appliance manufacturers still include single-digit settings on new ovens? I’ve NEVER heard of a recipe calling for 314*
(Former ABC13 Houston KTRK anchor Mark Garay returns to mikemcguff.com as a guest blogger!)
