If computers are supposed to make shopping for items faster and easier, why does it take longer and make (my) life harder?
First case in point, buying a refrigerator.
Knowing which one I wanted, I hopped online, checked out a few places for the best price and ordered one. One. I got two. I sent one back. No problem, I was told, it was a simple computer mistake on their part and would not show up on my bill. It showed up on my bill.
I got online and tried to fix it, only to find that you can't fix it online. I called the place and spoke to a live person who had to hop on the computer and fix it, but first they had to find out where the problem was. This necessitated a copious amount of tapping and clicking and opening files and entering and reentering much information(wow, something worse than listening to twenty minutes of muzak), but finally, just when I was wishing I had decided to go with a cooler and coldpak, they thought they had solved the problem --a computer glitch(no, really? I was shocked!).
Of course, the computer wouldn't let them fix it at the moment, but I was assured that they would contact the credit card company and I would see a credit on my next bill. Oh yes, have your computer call my computer. That should solve everything.
Next up, buying a washer and dryer. Fool me once...
This time I decided to actually go into the store and purchase them in person. That would definitely be faster and easier. Besides, I had looked at them online to compare features and prices, but that was not a satisfactory substitute for actually slamming the doors and pushing all the shiny new buttons. And I really wanted to know what the actual difference was between 3.7 cubic feet and 4.0 cubic feet of space inside a round drum (as far as I can tell, it is about $200).
Did I say faster and easier? Not if there is a computer involved. First, the salesman had to log on, which seemed to require more passwords and codes than the entry gates to Fort Knox. Then, he had to check the availability of the items (more codes and passwords), the delivery location to see what the delivery fee would be (a complicated process which required a book as well as the computer), the available dates for delivery ( we consulted his calender, my calender, called the contractor and performed six hundred forty-two more key strokes), and, as if that wasn't enough, the dates of the autumnal equinox, the next full moon and the delivery driver's birthday to see if Jupiter was in line with Mars in the house of his rising sun.
Once all of this was entered, we could then get down to the actual information gathering: name, billing address, phone numbers (day, night, cell, work, childhood home, first apartment), e-mail addresses(mine, Tim's, my parents', brother and sister's, in laws), delivery address, name of person accepting delivery and his favorite color, accessibility to condo unit (apparently, they will deliver to the third floor without an elevator, but the fourth is pushing it just one step too far--what is that word you are mouthing?? Hernia???), credit card number, expiration date, security code, name of grade school I attended, first pet, best friend and shoe size.
Oh, but we weren't done yet. All of this information had to be previewed, tabulated, approved, printed out, reviewed and signed off on. This required much further diligent tapping of keys, jiggling of the mouse, an avalanche of computer printouts, and much stapling, folding and sealing. Pricewaterhouse doesn't go to this much trouble to tabulate the Oscar results!
Finally, after receiving a twenty-minute lecture on how to fill out the rebate forms (the instructions only took about two minutes, but they were repeated ten times to make sure I understood--hmmm, I wonder if it was the dazed look in my eyes or the slack jaw that gave me away?), I was on my way...to buy some furniture.
I didn't think it was possible, but this was an even more painful experience than the previous two. Some of the furniture was in stock at the actual store, some was in stock, but not on the premises, and some was catalogue and internet only, but they could do it on the store computer for me. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, it couldn't all be placed as one order. (Yeah, multiple computer glitches!!!)
To give the salesman credit, he tried his best to compensate for the inconvenience by working two computers at once. It was mesmerizing to watch, with a click click here and a tap tap there. Here a click, there a tap, everywhere a clicktap.
And there was even audience participation. It was credit card in, then credit card out(of the wallet), the discount card in, then the discount card out, the card with the address for delivery in, then the card with the address for delivery out. We turned ourselves around, repeated the whole process three more times, and that's what it was all about.
At last it was done though, and I was on my way. If I had known it would be that involved and taken that long, I would have packed a lunch and left a forwarding address.
Ah, but the saga doesn't end here. I returned home to get the confirmation e-mails from the store, only to find there were not two bedside tables listed, but one. One.
Maybe I could trade in the extra refrigerator for the other one.
Showing posts with label computer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label computer. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Online Aggravation, I Mean Registration
Every month, I get buried under a stack of bills. Between the bills themsleves and the checks I have to write, I figure we must be responsible for the deforestation of at least half of Oregon.
So this week, I decided to try and pay some of them online. I've seen the ads. It's supposed to be faster, easier, better. I can do it during the commercials while the popcorn pops, or while I'm waiting for the coffee to perk (Well, maybe not. Too risky to do anything before coffee.) Then, I can use all that lovely extra free time to bounce around the house like Mary bleeping Poppins. Yeah. They lied.
First, you have to register on each site. This requires a username, password and security question. At least. Some want blood or your first born child.
Username. Okay. How about my name? Taken. Tim's name. Taken. Our names combined? Taken. Seriously, what are the odds of other Tims marrying other Anns and signing up for Verizon Wireless with the same last name as us? Apparently, they are pretty good.
After a fun ten minutes of trying every possible combination I could think of, I ended up making up usernames that I will never remember. Oh, and it can't be the same username for all the sites. That would be too easy.
On one site, it has to be between six and ten letters. No numbers. On another, eight to twelve characters, including at least one number and one letter. And on yet another one, all numbers, no letters.
Great. I can barely remember where I put the car keys that were just in my hand, and now I'm supposed to remember eighteen different usernames? Then, to add insult to injury, on one site, if you have multiple accounts (which, of course, we do -- cell phones), you need multiple usernames! More fun.
Once you have cleared this hurdle, you get to choose your password. No less than six letters, no more than five. At least two numbers, no numbers allowed. Naturally, all of them are case sensitive, so you have to remember where and if you used any capitals.
Some sites though, don't let you choose your own password. This is for security reasons. You can't complete your registration until you get your super-secret password in the mail. Oh goody. Does it come with a special decoder ring? Or maybe it self-destructs five minutes after opening the envelope.
Twenty randomly assigned numbers to remember. They've got to be kidding. Secure? You bet. From me!!!
And speaking of security...they are not done with you yet. After settling on usernames and passwords that you don't have a snowball's chance in hell of remembering, you have to choose a security question to answer. But, again, each site has different questions.
Therefore, I now have to remember my favorite book, movie, hobby, color, actor, actress, author and high school teacher. Which would be great if I actually had a single favorite in any of those categories. After all, I really liked Mother Goose and Captain Kangaroo at one point, but I hate to think I'd be stuck with them for the rest of my life. Oh, and I am so over Tom Cruise too.
Ahh, but once you get past all that, you get to access your account, and choose the method of payment, etc. Which is great, except that with all the "print for your records" pages and lists of usernames, passwords and security questions I've printed out this week, I think I may have deforested the other half of Oregon.
So this week, I decided to try and pay some of them online. I've seen the ads. It's supposed to be faster, easier, better. I can do it during the commercials while the popcorn pops, or while I'm waiting for the coffee to perk (Well, maybe not. Too risky to do anything before coffee.) Then, I can use all that lovely extra free time to bounce around the house like Mary bleeping Poppins. Yeah. They lied.
First, you have to register on each site. This requires a username, password and security question. At least. Some want blood or your first born child.
Username. Okay. How about my name? Taken. Tim's name. Taken. Our names combined? Taken. Seriously, what are the odds of other Tims marrying other Anns and signing up for Verizon Wireless with the same last name as us? Apparently, they are pretty good.
After a fun ten minutes of trying every possible combination I could think of, I ended up making up usernames that I will never remember. Oh, and it can't be the same username for all the sites. That would be too easy.
On one site, it has to be between six and ten letters. No numbers. On another, eight to twelve characters, including at least one number and one letter. And on yet another one, all numbers, no letters.
Great. I can barely remember where I put the car keys that were just in my hand, and now I'm supposed to remember eighteen different usernames? Then, to add insult to injury, on one site, if you have multiple accounts (which, of course, we do -- cell phones), you need multiple usernames! More fun.
Once you have cleared this hurdle, you get to choose your password. No less than six letters, no more than five. At least two numbers, no numbers allowed. Naturally, all of them are case sensitive, so you have to remember where and if you used any capitals.
Some sites though, don't let you choose your own password. This is for security reasons. You can't complete your registration until you get your super-secret password in the mail. Oh goody. Does it come with a special decoder ring? Or maybe it self-destructs five minutes after opening the envelope.
Twenty randomly assigned numbers to remember. They've got to be kidding. Secure? You bet. From me!!!
And speaking of security...they are not done with you yet. After settling on usernames and passwords that you don't have a snowball's chance in hell of remembering, you have to choose a security question to answer. But, again, each site has different questions.
Therefore, I now have to remember my favorite book, movie, hobby, color, actor, actress, author and high school teacher. Which would be great if I actually had a single favorite in any of those categories. After all, I really liked Mother Goose and Captain Kangaroo at one point, but I hate to think I'd be stuck with them for the rest of my life. Oh, and I am so over Tom Cruise too.
Ahh, but once you get past all that, you get to access your account, and choose the method of payment, etc. Which is great, except that with all the "print for your records" pages and lists of usernames, passwords and security questions I've printed out this week, I think I may have deforested the other half of Oregon.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Press the Cat
Several years ago, we gave our niece an electronic "learning" toy for Christmas. The machine would instruct you to press a certain color, number, animal, etc., then reward you with sounds and lights when you were correct.
Eagerly, she sat before the board, her little hand poised over it, awaiting the first command.
"Touch the cat," a woman's voice cooed encouragingly.
Her face wreathed with smiles, she pressed the correct picture and we all waited expectantly for the cat to "meow".
"Touch the cat," the voice ordered again.
A slightly doubtful frown marred her brow, but she stuck to her guns and pressed the same picture.
"Touch the cat." Press. "Touch the cat." Press. Her lower lip began to tremble.
"Touch the cat, touch the cat, touch the cat," the voice sadistically taunted her.
Frustrated beyond bearing, she pounded one last time on the cat and then burst into tears.
After using the self-checkout at the grocery store yesterday, I know how she felt.
Generally, my goal is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. I grab a basket, take out my list and head off down the first aisle like I'm a contestant on a game show. No standing in long checkout lines for me and having the laundry detergent put on top of my eggs. Uh-uh. Self-checkout is the only way to go. Fast, fast, fast.
Until yesterday, that is, when I got the machine clearly built by the same people who had designed that toy.
It started out innocently enough. I touched the screen to activate it, choose English (in retrospect, maybe I would have had better luck if I'd selected Spanish), and swiped my card.
Running the first item over the scanner, I heard the "blip" and placed it in the bag.
"Please remove the last item from your bag and try again," the disembodied voice directed me.
Hmm. Maybe I was too fast. Okay. I ran it over the scanner again.Once again, it "blipped" and then told me to remove the item. Not so okay this time.
The girl at the monitoring station called over, "It does that sometimes." She pressed a few buttons on her computer. "Go ahead and put it in your bag." Hmmp.
Next item. No "blip" this time. Back and forth over the scanner more slowly. Still no "blip". Laid flat. Nothing. Oh yeah, this was working much better since she pushed those buttons.
"Try again," once more she hit some buttons. Surprise! No "blip". Not even a "bl". Finally, she gave up and just entered the item manually.
Item number three. "Blip." Then, the dreaded voice. "Please place the item on the scanner and wait."
Item number four. Same song, fourth verse.
By now, the girl had come over to me, convinced that this was somehow my fault. Giving me a faintly patronizing smile, she scanned the next item, and... "Please remove the last item from the bag..." It seemed Bride of Hal didn't like her any better than she liked me.
And so it continued with items five, six, seven, and eight. "Please scan item again.", "Remove last item from bag.", "Place item on scanner." (Press the cat, press the cat, press the cat!!!)
By now, my frustration was growing even faster than the line behind me. If I had wanted it to be this long and painful, I would have gotten in line behind the woman with five kids and two carts. Even the manager could not win in the "blip" "Try again.", "blip" "Try again." game. Eventually, even she conceded defeat and entered the remaining items manually.
Not to be outdone though, the computer had the last word. As we all walked away, the smug voice followed us across the front of the store, "Thank you for shopping with us." I believe this is when the manager burst into tears.
Eagerly, she sat before the board, her little hand poised over it, awaiting the first command.
"Touch the cat," a woman's voice cooed encouragingly.
Her face wreathed with smiles, she pressed the correct picture and we all waited expectantly for the cat to "meow".
"Touch the cat," the voice ordered again.
A slightly doubtful frown marred her brow, but she stuck to her guns and pressed the same picture.
"Touch the cat." Press. "Touch the cat." Press. Her lower lip began to tremble.
"Touch the cat, touch the cat, touch the cat," the voice sadistically taunted her.
Frustrated beyond bearing, she pounded one last time on the cat and then burst into tears.
After using the self-checkout at the grocery store yesterday, I know how she felt.
Generally, my goal is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. I grab a basket, take out my list and head off down the first aisle like I'm a contestant on a game show. No standing in long checkout lines for me and having the laundry detergent put on top of my eggs. Uh-uh. Self-checkout is the only way to go. Fast, fast, fast.
Until yesterday, that is, when I got the machine clearly built by the same people who had designed that toy.
It started out innocently enough. I touched the screen to activate it, choose English (in retrospect, maybe I would have had better luck if I'd selected Spanish), and swiped my card.
Running the first item over the scanner, I heard the "blip" and placed it in the bag.
"Please remove the last item from your bag and try again," the disembodied voice directed me.
Hmm. Maybe I was too fast. Okay. I ran it over the scanner again.Once again, it "blipped" and then told me to remove the item. Not so okay this time.
The girl at the monitoring station called over, "It does that sometimes." She pressed a few buttons on her computer. "Go ahead and put it in your bag." Hmmp.
Next item. No "blip" this time. Back and forth over the scanner more slowly. Still no "blip". Laid flat. Nothing. Oh yeah, this was working much better since she pushed those buttons.
"Try again," once more she hit some buttons. Surprise! No "blip". Not even a "bl". Finally, she gave up and just entered the item manually.
Item number three. "Blip." Then, the dreaded voice. "Please place the item on the scanner and wait."
Item number four. Same song, fourth verse.
By now, the girl had come over to me, convinced that this was somehow my fault. Giving me a faintly patronizing smile, she scanned the next item, and... "Please remove the last item from the bag..." It seemed Bride of Hal didn't like her any better than she liked me.
And so it continued with items five, six, seven, and eight. "Please scan item again.", "Remove last item from bag.", "Place item on scanner." (Press the cat, press the cat, press the cat!!!)
By now, my frustration was growing even faster than the line behind me. If I had wanted it to be this long and painful, I would have gotten in line behind the woman with five kids and two carts. Even the manager could not win in the "blip" "Try again.", "blip" "Try again." game. Eventually, even she conceded defeat and entered the remaining items manually.
Not to be outdone though, the computer had the last word. As we all walked away, the smug voice followed us across the front of the store, "Thank you for shopping with us." I believe this is when the manager burst into tears.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Computers--Now You See Things, Now You Don't
Although my sister would say I am completely helpless when it comes to computers, that is not true.
I can do e-mails, shop, surf the net, shop, generate word documents, shop, download, upload, set up files, shop, create shortcuts and I even know what a cookie is and how to delete it. Oh, and have I mentioned that I can shop? All this and more. When my computer lets me do it, that is.
Sometimes, it turns on me. Like when I first decided to blog. Every time I tried to get onto blogger.com on my PC, all I got was a page with streaks of color. All the other websites were fine. I just couldn't get onto blogger no matter how hard I tried. Even a call to my sister, grand high exalted queen of computers, didn't help. I just couldn't get on the site.
Puzzled and frustrated, I gave it a whirl on my laptop--and got right on. Hmm. Interesting.
A month later, it got even more interesting. I could get on blogger, but I couldn't access the Sirius website.
Two weeks later, I could get onto Sirius, but not Gifts.com. Now it was getting personal. It was impacting on my shopping. Was I typing things in correctly? Had I somehow opened some sort of weird virus? Could I blame any of this on Tim?
Than, total disaster struck. No Word. Every time I tried to open a word document, I got either a blank gray screen or a series of dialogue boxes saying I needed to install the disk, it was searching the net for the correct program, it was screwing with my mind, etc.
Wait. When had I uninstalled Word? Had I been sleepwalking lately, or somehow hit some sort of secret delete key I didn't know about while searching for a YouTube video? More importantly, could I, in any way, blame this on Tim? So many questions.
And to make matters even more puzzling, Word was listed when I checked under programs and I could generate a word document.
Before I could figure out this cute little twist, my laptop decided to join my PC and make sure I had a nervous breakdown.
It stopped going online. No signal except for maybe a half hour between ten and eleven pm. That's it. Period. "Cable Unplugged", it told me. Ha!
I checked and there was no cable unplugged. I even unplugged and replugged. Maybe there was an elf living in the basement who was getting his jollies unplugging the cable? Perhaps it was the ghost from next door who had gotten bored and wandered over, looking for something new to do with her time? Could I, in any way, blame Tim for this?
Before I could answer any of these questions, the latest string of computer frolics occurred.
Word miraculously returned to my PC, but my address bar disappeared. I can only go to a site by not typing www, but only the site name in the topmost google box. I don't go to google, but directly to the site.
I can also get online with my laptop most anytime I want, but once I go to a site, I cannot get home by clicking on the little house icon because it is gone. Vanished into cyberspace.
Once again, I am left with many questions, the main one, of course, being, "Can I blame Tim"?
I can do e-mails, shop, surf the net, shop, generate word documents, shop, download, upload, set up files, shop, create shortcuts and I even know what a cookie is and how to delete it. Oh, and have I mentioned that I can shop? All this and more. When my computer lets me do it, that is.
Sometimes, it turns on me. Like when I first decided to blog. Every time I tried to get onto blogger.com on my PC, all I got was a page with streaks of color. All the other websites were fine. I just couldn't get onto blogger no matter how hard I tried. Even a call to my sister, grand high exalted queen of computers, didn't help. I just couldn't get on the site.
Puzzled and frustrated, I gave it a whirl on my laptop--and got right on. Hmm. Interesting.
A month later, it got even more interesting. I could get on blogger, but I couldn't access the Sirius website.
Two weeks later, I could get onto Sirius, but not Gifts.com. Now it was getting personal. It was impacting on my shopping. Was I typing things in correctly? Had I somehow opened some sort of weird virus? Could I blame any of this on Tim?
Than, total disaster struck. No Word. Every time I tried to open a word document, I got either a blank gray screen or a series of dialogue boxes saying I needed to install the disk, it was searching the net for the correct program, it was screwing with my mind, etc.
Wait. When had I uninstalled Word? Had I been sleepwalking lately, or somehow hit some sort of secret delete key I didn't know about while searching for a YouTube video? More importantly, could I, in any way, blame this on Tim? So many questions.
And to make matters even more puzzling, Word was listed when I checked under programs and I could generate a word document.
Before I could figure out this cute little twist, my laptop decided to join my PC and make sure I had a nervous breakdown.
It stopped going online. No signal except for maybe a half hour between ten and eleven pm. That's it. Period. "Cable Unplugged", it told me. Ha!
I checked and there was no cable unplugged. I even unplugged and replugged. Maybe there was an elf living in the basement who was getting his jollies unplugging the cable? Perhaps it was the ghost from next door who had gotten bored and wandered over, looking for something new to do with her time? Could I, in any way, blame Tim for this?
Before I could answer any of these questions, the latest string of computer frolics occurred.
Word miraculously returned to my PC, but my address bar disappeared. I can only go to a site by not typing www, but only the site name in the topmost google box. I don't go to google, but directly to the site.
I can also get online with my laptop most anytime I want, but once I go to a site, I cannot get home by clicking on the little house icon because it is gone. Vanished into cyberspace.
Once again, I am left with many questions, the main one, of course, being, "Can I blame Tim"?
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
iTouch... Not Intended For Mature Audiences
Last week, we bought my mom an itouch to replace her dying first generation ipod. It was a tough sell.
"Look, you can get on the Internet." "Why? I have a laptop." "You can use it as an alarm clock." "I have an alarm clock--your father." "You can keep your Christmas card list in it." Yawn. Time to bring out the big guns: "You can download pictures of your grandchild." Bingo! We have a winner.
In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut.
Clearly more excited about it than she was, I charged it as soon as we got home only to find after two hours that it was fully charged, but not working. Used to the regular ipods and nanos, I was a bit perplexed, but still fairly optimistic.
I tried syncing it with my computer and itunes library, but it was still not giving me anything other than the full battery screen and a zzt zzt noise. (Hmm. I can see the headlines: Woman electrocuted by itouch. Film at 11.)
Not nearly as optimistic, I tried the website. No help there (seriously, they really should have an over forty section there--a basic "dummy" handbook with large print. Oh, and a warning label on the box in big red letters: Do Not Attempt to Use Without the Help of a Teenager).
Definitely pessimistic now, I tried the helpline. An hour later, beyond pessimism and progressing quickly into totally ticked off, I was back in the store where the guy was as perplexed as I was (he was only the manager though and clearly over forty, not a "tech guy". Good to know: Avoid asking the store manager for help.), but he got the home screen simply by connecting the thing to one of their mac's.
The tech guy(who looked to be about twelve), came over and explained that I probably needed to upgrade a certain program on my computer and sent me a link (BTW, he was also perplexed, but unconcerned--probably because it didn't happen to his itouch-- by the lack of the home screen when it was fully charged.)
Returning home, I began downloading stuff that they estimated would take twenty minutes. What they neglected to say was that that was in dog years. Six hours, fourteen dozen times of Tim saying,"Something must be wrong. This download should only take a few minutes.", and many gray hairs later, the programs necessary to install before installing the necessary program finally finished downloading.
Pathetically, Tim and I greeted each finished section with cheers and did the final five countdown with more gusto than when Dick Clark ushered in 2000 (we would have played Prince's Party Like it's 1999 , but, ironically, we still couldn't download my library.)
Next morning, bright and early, I began the download process again. Three hours later...I was wishing it was five o'clock, so I could start drinking! Finally, finally, the new upgrades were complete. With weary anticipation, I plugged in the itouch and...it still wouldn't sync because the computer was reading it as a camera!!!!!!
After I managed to unclench my fist from around the itouch and back away from the window I was seriously thinking of hurtling it through, I once again called the helpline. Oddly, the girl on the other end seemed to see nothing unusual about a nine hour download time, and was sure she could solve the problem. Oh, and she was cheerful as well as optimistic. I hated her from "hello".
After leading me through a series of right and left clicks, the problem was solved (although I did have a brief moment of satisfaction when I clicked on one particular thing, told her what the screen said and, after a brief pause, she said, "Oh. It's not supposed to say that." Another pause. "Maybe I can fix it. I think." Not so optimistic now, are we? he he).
Eventually, it was up and running. Since they do not include an instruction booklet (it is online, of course and only takes thirty-six hours to download:) ) I decided to learn by trial and error. Excited by each new function I discovered during the next week, I showed it off to my fourteen year old nephew, who, after having it in his hands for less then three seconds, was expertly whizzing through the home screen, searching for album covers and connecting to the Internet.
Like I said. Clearly, this device needs a rating: for kids only.
"Look, you can get on the Internet." "Why? I have a laptop." "You can use it as an alarm clock." "I have an alarm clock--your father." "You can keep your Christmas card list in it." Yawn. Time to bring out the big guns: "You can download pictures of your grandchild." Bingo! We have a winner.
In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut.
Clearly more excited about it than she was, I charged it as soon as we got home only to find after two hours that it was fully charged, but not working. Used to the regular ipods and nanos, I was a bit perplexed, but still fairly optimistic.
I tried syncing it with my computer and itunes library, but it was still not giving me anything other than the full battery screen and a zzt zzt noise. (Hmm. I can see the headlines: Woman electrocuted by itouch. Film at 11.)
Not nearly as optimistic, I tried the website. No help there (seriously, they really should have an over forty section there--a basic "dummy" handbook with large print. Oh, and a warning label on the box in big red letters: Do Not Attempt to Use Without the Help of a Teenager).
Definitely pessimistic now, I tried the helpline. An hour later, beyond pessimism and progressing quickly into totally ticked off, I was back in the store where the guy was as perplexed as I was (he was only the manager though and clearly over forty, not a "tech guy". Good to know: Avoid asking the store manager for help.), but he got the home screen simply by connecting the thing to one of their mac's.
The tech guy(who looked to be about twelve), came over and explained that I probably needed to upgrade a certain program on my computer and sent me a link (BTW, he was also perplexed, but unconcerned--probably because it didn't happen to his itouch-- by the lack of the home screen when it was fully charged.)
Returning home, I began downloading stuff that they estimated would take twenty minutes. What they neglected to say was that that was in dog years. Six hours, fourteen dozen times of Tim saying,"Something must be wrong. This download should only take a few minutes.", and many gray hairs later, the programs necessary to install before installing the necessary program finally finished downloading.
Pathetically, Tim and I greeted each finished section with cheers and did the final five countdown with more gusto than when Dick Clark ushered in 2000 (we would have played Prince's Party Like it's 1999 , but, ironically, we still couldn't download my library.)
Next morning, bright and early, I began the download process again. Three hours later...I was wishing it was five o'clock, so I could start drinking! Finally, finally, the new upgrades were complete. With weary anticipation, I plugged in the itouch and...it still wouldn't sync because the computer was reading it as a camera!!!!!!
After I managed to unclench my fist from around the itouch and back away from the window I was seriously thinking of hurtling it through, I once again called the helpline. Oddly, the girl on the other end seemed to see nothing unusual about a nine hour download time, and was sure she could solve the problem. Oh, and she was cheerful as well as optimistic. I hated her from "hello".
After leading me through a series of right and left clicks, the problem was solved (although I did have a brief moment of satisfaction when I clicked on one particular thing, told her what the screen said and, after a brief pause, she said, "Oh. It's not supposed to say that." Another pause. "Maybe I can fix it. I think." Not so optimistic now, are we? he he).
Eventually, it was up and running. Since they do not include an instruction booklet (it is online, of course and only takes thirty-six hours to download:) ) I decided to learn by trial and error. Excited by each new function I discovered during the next week, I showed it off to my fourteen year old nephew, who, after having it in his hands for less then three seconds, was expertly whizzing through the home screen, searching for album covers and connecting to the Internet.
Like I said. Clearly, this device needs a rating: for kids only.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
First post
Over the past few years, I've been doing a lot of traveling and have bored my friends and family with the details in longwinded e-mails. I can't help it, I am a giver. I have also remodeled various parts of my house (naturally, more sharing of the fascinating details occurred), and I have switched jobs (okay, I didn't so much share these details as whine about them, but mostly to my husband who is used to it after 19 years).
Finally, in self-defense, one of my friends suggested I keep a blog. That way, any and all of my victims, I mean friends, could just go to my blog and read (or not). So, a year later(perhaps she was too subtle in her suggestion the first dozen times)....here I am, probably just writing to entertain myslef.
Anyway...Step 1: go get a book about blogging. Step 2: read actual blogs. Suddenly, I was turning something most people are doing for fun into actual work!!! (Maybe this is why my husband says I'm OCD??!! Step 3: log on to blogger.com for the best and easiest way to create a blog. Couldn't be simpler. Yeah, right.
Step 1: drive to the bookstore and find out they really only have one book that will help me(unsurprisingly, it is for dummies) and the chapter on blogging basically says: go to blogger.com and follow the directions. I'm pretty sure I could have done that without the book, but I got the book anyway so I could obsess over each nuance of those few words.
Step2: Oh my God!!! did you know there are like 8 million blogs out there???
Step 3: I turn on my computer, go to blogger.com, read what they have to say about blogs, and,. feeling nervous but confident, I click on "create blog". And it won't download. So I try again. And it won't download. So I go back to my homepage and then try again. And it won't download. I repeat these steps 20 times (OCD again). I go into tools and get rid of all the cookies and the history and click on anything else that I think might help. ( I am so proud of myself at this point for not only thinking of doing this, but actually figuring out how to do it that I almost don't care if I can create my own blog anymore). Still no luck.
Five hours later, I get in but at this point I am so ticked off with the site, my computer my dinner, my life...that I am not really in a blogging frame of mind. (or at least not a frame of mind that wouldn't contain lots of four-letter words). So this morning, all rested and refreshed, I eagerly turned on my computer and..........no download, try again. Repeat. Same results. As I'm thinking maybe I'm really not meant to spare my friends and family every riveting detail of my life, I get a brainstorm...try the laptop! Success at last, for which I am sure I can hear a huge sigh of relief coming from lots of inboxes!
Finally, in self-defense, one of my friends suggested I keep a blog. That way, any and all of my victims, I mean friends, could just go to my blog and read (or not). So, a year later(perhaps she was too subtle in her suggestion the first dozen times)....here I am, probably just writing to entertain myslef.
Anyway...Step 1: go get a book about blogging. Step 2: read actual blogs. Suddenly, I was turning something most people are doing for fun into actual work!!! (Maybe this is why my husband says I'm OCD??!! Step 3: log on to blogger.com for the best and easiest way to create a blog. Couldn't be simpler. Yeah, right.
Step 1: drive to the bookstore and find out they really only have one book that will help me(unsurprisingly, it is for dummies) and the chapter on blogging basically says: go to blogger.com and follow the directions. I'm pretty sure I could have done that without the book, but I got the book anyway so I could obsess over each nuance of those few words.
Step2: Oh my God!!! did you know there are like 8 million blogs out there???
Step 3: I turn on my computer, go to blogger.com, read what they have to say about blogs, and,. feeling nervous but confident, I click on "create blog". And it won't download. So I try again. And it won't download. So I go back to my homepage and then try again. And it won't download. I repeat these steps 20 times (OCD again). I go into tools and get rid of all the cookies and the history and click on anything else that I think might help. ( I am so proud of myself at this point for not only thinking of doing this, but actually figuring out how to do it that I almost don't care if I can create my own blog anymore). Still no luck.
Five hours later, I get in but at this point I am so ticked off with the site, my computer my dinner, my life...that I am not really in a blogging frame of mind. (or at least not a frame of mind that wouldn't contain lots of four-letter words). So this morning, all rested and refreshed, I eagerly turned on my computer and..........no download, try again. Repeat. Same results. As I'm thinking maybe I'm really not meant to spare my friends and family every riveting detail of my life, I get a brainstorm...try the laptop! Success at last, for which I am sure I can hear a huge sigh of relief coming from lots of inboxes!
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