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.

I'm Back

I’m Back

For several reasons, I stopped blogging a few years ago. First, if I blogged on other sites, they did not want to see the blog on my weekly post. The second reason—time.  After Hubby and I moved to Seniorville, we became busier than we were in our “previous life.” Our life is like living on a perpetual cruise ship.

The upside of our move only 45 minutes north of our old homestead was we were able to keep all of our lifetime Florida friends. The downside of the move, as predicted in a chapter in my book, is we go out to eat too much.  New friends, old friends, and recently retired to South Florida New York friends, and vacationing visitors fill our evenings almost nightly, especially during season when the “snowbirds” descend. Days find Hubby and me, not basking in the sun—we are Floridians—but either at meetings or playing Bridge or Mah Jongg (just me). We force ourselves to keep a few hours clear now and then for errands and chores.  A recently retired friend, one who thought he would be a nobody without his job, finally agrees he loves his new, busier than ever, retired life.

 Unless you live in what is justifiably called an Active Adult Community in South Florida, it is almost impossible to explain how those collecting social security can have a social calendar set months in advance.  Today’s generation of parents, whose kids are committed to umpteen afterschool activities, will be better trained for Seniorville. They are used to no free time. Our kids, I think, were the last generation that had some free time after school.

My writing has taken a back seat to my Seniorville social life, but, alas I must confess, my avid reading is also is sleep mode—the cause?—Words With Friends.  Instead of reading at night or while waiting for hours on end in various doctors and dentists offices, I now play this addicting variation of Scrabble with up to 20 friends and relatives at one time. The upside of this new habit is unlike socializing over wine and food, it is calorie free.