MELTDOWN

 

If my parents had a cell phone or computer, I would have had to resign from teaching in order to have enough time to handle their technology problems in addition to their doctor visits.  I haven’t actually clocked the hours spent on the phone with the Comcast tech support team and AT&T customer service, but it is getting to be a full time job.

 Immediately after I purchased my fancy phone and used my passwords on my cell phone to set up email accounts, dialogue boxes on my computer haunted me every time I wanted to open my email. Each time I went on, demands greeted me insisting I retype my password.  Each evening, after dinner, as Hubby sat down to watch television, I called Comcast tech support to find out why the computer wasn’t remembering the passwords. Computers, unlike humans, shouldn’t have dementia. Every night, someone else got access to my computer, fidgeted around with settings, and declared the problem fixed.  One young man informed me that my Outlook email passwords were different from my Comcast. He informed me that I must go to both sites each time I change my password. Wonderful. I didn’t know they were two different sites.

I have two Comcast email addresses. I questioned each tech person if the fact they had the same password was the cause of the problem. I was assured it was not. Finally, one expert, who must have reached the last step in the help manual, changed the passwords for each account. Viola!  Bye, bye dialogue box. Hello to trying to keep track of which account has which password.

My joy was short-lived. I could no longer get email on my cell phone. Now I discovered that just like Comcast can operate my computer from far off lands, AT&T can get inside my Galaxy phone. Guess what they discovered...the email account wasn’t set up properly.  Could that have been the cause of the password problem on my computer’s email? To make matters more frustrating, my Facebook, Google and Yahoo passwords had to be changed within a short time period. I forget the reason why and not sure if the Gmail account is the same as Google.   

My meltdown occurred when Hubby’s phone would not take a charge. We had no choice but to drive 30 minutes north to the only AT&T service center in our county. To me, that’s like having one service center for all of Manhattan. Thankfully no lines, and once again joy was short lived. The tech dared ask my spouse for the password for HIS phone. He looked at me. Tears were in his eyes.

 He was passworded out. Cell phones don’t have a “forgot  your password” feature for cell phones.

I could go on with another 500 words to tell you about the next 48 hours of password horror until his phone was working again, but it ended with the two of us having a huge argument over something we never, ever fought about before—who’s in charge of remembering which passwords.  It seems he thought that along with cooking, ironing and cleaning, remembering his passwords should become my job.

And yes, our phones and computers are functioning now, and I think better than me.

Oh, My Aching Computer

Contrary to popular belief, old people do not spend all day complaining about aches and pains. We kvetch more about frustrations with problems that didn’t exist ten—fifteen years ago. They all have to do with keeping up with the constant changes in technology and keeping our newest hi-tech acquisitions in the “best of health.”

I entered the computer age when I took my Masters in the 80”s. I remember being advised to buy an Apple 2C, and I would not have to pay to have someone type my thesis. I was misinformed that the purchase, which was double what a good computer would cost today, was all my husband and I would ever need to be part of the future. I’m thrilled the same person was not our financial adviser. We never imagined when we planned our first retirement needs budget when we were still very middle-aged, that we left out the high cost of staying connected. This is not a five-dollar bill that can easily be squeezed into a budget.

If you’re reading this, you know the monthly fees to enable my blog bounce around the world on various sights. But how many of you have two monthly exterminating services making house calls. One sprays stuff on my garden and in my house to prevent multilegged bugs from crawling around my home. The other kills the invisible bugs and viruses that somehow get inside my computer despite all the “vaccinations” that are supposed to prevent such mishaps. Instead of old people bragging that they have the “best doctor,” they now boast that their computer specialist is the best diagnostician in town. I’ve yet to hear people brag about their cable or internet carrier. Instead, the complaints about internet and cable services remind me of my mother and her sister complaining about whose aches and pains were worse.

Last month my husband went to the pool to exercise. He forgot to take his cell phone out of his pocket. Unlike his watch, the cell phone wasn’t waterproof. My husband doesn’t have a back up, old-fashioned phone book as I do. He enters numbers solely in his phone. I am sure his cousin, who only has a cell phone and as of yet there are no yellow pages for cell phones, is bummed out that he hasn’t returned her call. Ten years ago, neither my husband nor his cousin carried cell phones. Hopefully, since she is a Facebook friend, she will read this and call me.

Recently, one friend asked if I had received an answer from another friend to an email. “No,” I replied. “Which is weird because she has instant internet service on her cell.”
“She doesn’t know how to get to her email on her new phone, but she won’t admit it.”

Unlike my friend, I won’t bend to social pressure to “have the latest” and invest in a Smartphone that I know I’ll never learn to use. It took years for me to learn to retrieve messages on my present, very basic cell phone, and I’m still not able to enter phone numbers. For this South Floridian, investing in a Smartphone is like buying a snow sled for my grandkids to use when they visit. Life was easier for status seekers when all the needed were jewels, cars, or manufacturer’s labels. I’ve never known a Gucci bag that was attacked with a virus rendering it DOA.

Recently my husband announced that not only our cell phones, but our computers are near the end of their lifespan. “It just doesn’t pay to fix them again.”

He literally has spent more time in the last few weeks investigating what kinds of computers and phones meet our current needs and budget—lap top, desk top, or tablet—than what he should be investigating—which Medigap policy and which Medicare Drug Plan is best for us in 2012. (If you aren’t aware, these plans’ benefits change every year)

I questioned his priorities since, if we have to switch plans, it needs to be done soon. His answer explained why seniors now kvetch more about cell phone and computer problems than aches and pains. “How long will you last if both of our computers and our cell phones drop dead?”

Physically I’ll make it, and I’m in better (communication) shape than he is. I still have my little black phone book, which has landline and cell numbers—and unlike more and more people we know, we still have landlines.

Senior Phone

I only use my cell phone for making and receiving calls when I’m away from home or if my husband is using our house phone. That’s it. I’ve learned how to text but don’t. I prefer to read my emails while sitting at my desk. Discount store coupons are downloaded from my computer before I leave home. Talking on the cell while driving is not my thing—I’m a blue tooth failure. If I happen to receive a call while behind the wheel, I disconnect as soon as I need to change lanes. I never knew my cell phone could take pictures until my granddaughter asked me to borrow the phone so she could take a picture of something to show her mother. It’s the only time that feature was ever used. On the extremely rare occasion I find myself away from home and need SOS information from Google, I call someone, usually Florida son, who has immediate computer access.

Recently, a friend showed all the features of her new Smart Phone to a group of my friends. It has every gizmo on it from a way to store bar codes for shops she frequents to the ability to Skype. I’ve had a Skype for over a year on my home computer and have yet to learn to use it, nor have I received one call on it.

All I could think of while my friend proudly demonstrated her proficiency in maneuvering from one feature to the next and “everyone” was expressing a desire to get one like hers was security issues. What if it is lost of stolen? Does each site she uses have a secret access code protecting her confidential information, or will this private information literally be an open book allowing thieves to do her harm? (Those who follow The Good Wife know that stored texts are foreshadowing a future story line.) Will the information available on these phones become more lucrative to thieves than stolen diamonds?

While my friend continued to show all the phenomenal potential her phone has and I don’t want, my mind wandered back about 25 years to when Hubby and I went to buy my then 82-year-old mother her first micro. The salesperson advised us to buy a “Senior Micro.” He explained that old people have trouble with too many choices when they use the micro. Would this same salesman today call my simple phone a Senior Phone?

Well, if he would put my generation down, my peer was proving him wrong. Seniors don’t need simple “Senior Phones.” The only reason I don’t want one like my friend’s is I have no need for it. It has nothing to do with the fact that the first time I used my fairly new SIMPLE phone someone literally had to yell at me to press “send” when it was ringing, and I couldn’t figure out how to answer it. (My old phone had a “talk” button. )And it has nothing to do with the fact that I still can’t enter phone numbers in my phone. If I really wanted a very complicated phone, I’m sure I could master all that is involved. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

My Menopausal Computer

Did you know computers are females.? I know this because mine is definitely showing signs of menopause. Not only does my computer feel hot lately, but she refuses to work until she cools down. My computer’s mood swings the past few weeks have been making it almost impossible to get my work done. For the past month, many times when I hit a key, there is a delayed reaction until the letters appear on my screen. The other day when I went to write a blog, my curser froze and I had to shut down and pray the mouse would work when I rebooted up. Was she mad because I was away and never checked my messages?

I took hormones when I hit menopause. The equivalent of hormones for my computer seems to be a daily virus scan. Every morning when I boot up, MacAfee warns that I need to scan my computer. This takes time – usually the time I have allotted to write. Now what? Trade it in? My husband didn’t trade me in during my mood swing period. He was patient. I’m trying to be patient, but I didn’t prevent Hubby from working.

Maybe the slow down is more than menopausal mood swings. Lately a sign in the bottom right corner keeps flashing that the computer’s virtual memory is low. It tells me where to click, and when I do, I get no response. Does this mean my computer is finishing menopause and starting Alzheimer’s?

I’ll nurse my faithful friend until I can find a computer doctor who can diagnose her problem. Hopefully, the stubbornness is only menopause. There is life beyond that stage of a woman’s life.