Last week’s blog foreshadowed this week’s: frustrations in setting up new phones. COSTCO had a great deal, which Hubby bought even though it meant we increased our phones from 3 portables to 5 plus the two land lines we have. This means we now have more phones than rooms.
Now, you would think that all five phones would operate the same. You would think it, but that just ain’t so. Some of the phones have 3 soft keys under the face, others have two. On some you have to press the up/down arrows to see who called, others have a mini rod to move up or down.
Ever since the massive onslaught of technology – beginning with the VCR – my usual pattern of behavior when we have a new purchase that involves reading a manual, is wait for either of my sons to visit and let them set things up. However, ever since one of them muttered, “you have a master’s degree in teaching reading, surely you can follow simple directions in a manual,” I hesitate to scream “Help,” unless it really, really is necessary.
When Hubby unpacked the box, I suggested we take the easy way out and call a friend, who recently bought the same phone. Hubby announced his intentions to read the manual. He insisted that if his friend could decipher the manual, so could he. I didn’t bother to point out that his friend was a mechanical engineer.
I am proud to announce that Hubby actually did everything – even taught me how to see who called. He set up the phonebook, but I still can’t figure out how to enter numbers. The one job he didn’t do was reset the code for me to retrieve messages when I’m not home. “You did it with the last phone, so you can do it again.”
That page is still open on my desk. All I’ve done is make a copy of the various numbers I need to press to operate the phone from afar. My goal today is to prove to myself that my Master’s Degree was well deserved. After all, if I taught hundreds of students how to read directions, shouldn’t I be able to do the same
Monday, February 1, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Lost Connection
We’ve been having trouble with our phone service ever since we moved last April. The phone goes dead while I’m talking for no apparent reason. Whenever I report the malfunction to our carrier, they magically reset it from there main office – if there is such a thing - whatever has to be reset. Then the phone works again for a few weeks.
When we moved and my husband first told me he was bundling everything to reduce our monthly cost by $100, my response was, “Is this the same phone/cable company that disappeared for weeks after the hurricanes?”
He said yes, and agreed that if we had problems, when the introductory offer was up after a year, unless they renewed the deal, we would switch back to our old phone service if we had any problems.
Anyway – when our phones went dead two weeks ago, service told me that our phones were not compatible with their telephone service. I pointed out to the person I was speaking with that the phones work 99% of the time, and if they were truly incompatible, they wouldn’t work at all. Then she kept insisting my phones were analog, despite the fact I repeatedly told her that the phone was clearly labeled “digital.” I must have worn her down because she agreed to set up a service call, but at my cost. Then, after more heated words were exchanged, the cost was waved.
When the technician arrived – a week later - he informed us we needed new batteries for all of our phones. “They have to be changed at least once a year. When they’re all low, phone service cuts out.”
We’ve had the phones for more than five years and I think we’ve changed one battery because that particular phone read “low battery” whenever in use and told him this. The technician said we were just lucky. After he left, Hubby told me it was my fault because the phones probably cut out when all the phones are out of their cradles at the same time – something I’m guilty of, which drives him nuts. When he worked, I ran around the house before he was due home and put all the phones back in the cradles. Since he is home, I find searching for the phones gives him something to do. (He does not think this is funny.)
The local store that sells the special phone batteries was out of stock. It seems a lot of the portable phones – not to be confused with cell phones – went dead after the unusual lengthy cold snap we had in South Florida. I have no clue if there is a connection, but I’m glad the store was out. When we told our son the story, he told us it may be cheaper to buy all new phones – the kind that use cheap batteries- than replace the 4 batteries in our present phones.
By next week hopefully our new phones will be in place. Then when our phone service cuts out, an operator will tell us we set them up incorrectly. Unfortunately, she will probably be right!
When we moved and my husband first told me he was bundling everything to reduce our monthly cost by $100, my response was, “Is this the same phone/cable company that disappeared for weeks after the hurricanes?”
He said yes, and agreed that if we had problems, when the introductory offer was up after a year, unless they renewed the deal, we would switch back to our old phone service if we had any problems.
Anyway – when our phones went dead two weeks ago, service told me that our phones were not compatible with their telephone service. I pointed out to the person I was speaking with that the phones work 99% of the time, and if they were truly incompatible, they wouldn’t work at all. Then she kept insisting my phones were analog, despite the fact I repeatedly told her that the phone was clearly labeled “digital.” I must have worn her down because she agreed to set up a service call, but at my cost. Then, after more heated words were exchanged, the cost was waved.
When the technician arrived – a week later - he informed us we needed new batteries for all of our phones. “They have to be changed at least once a year. When they’re all low, phone service cuts out.”
We’ve had the phones for more than five years and I think we’ve changed one battery because that particular phone read “low battery” whenever in use and told him this. The technician said we were just lucky. After he left, Hubby told me it was my fault because the phones probably cut out when all the phones are out of their cradles at the same time – something I’m guilty of, which drives him nuts. When he worked, I ran around the house before he was due home and put all the phones back in the cradles. Since he is home, I find searching for the phones gives him something to do. (He does not think this is funny.)
The local store that sells the special phone batteries was out of stock. It seems a lot of the portable phones – not to be confused with cell phones – went dead after the unusual lengthy cold snap we had in South Florida. I have no clue if there is a connection, but I’m glad the store was out. When we told our son the story, he told us it may be cheaper to buy all new phones – the kind that use cheap batteries- than replace the 4 batteries in our present phones.
By next week hopefully our new phones will be in place. Then when our phone service cuts out, an operator will tell us we set them up incorrectly. Unfortunately, she will probably be right!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Too Much Bursting
Living on a six star cruise ship – what I call the active adult community I live in – has one downside, and that’s the upsizing of my waist since we moved in less than a year ago. Since we didn’t move a great distance from our old home, we still socialize with all of our Florida friends from that location. We relocated to an area where many of our old New York friends, who retired to Florida, settled. Add to that mix, all the new friends from our “cruise ship,” there is never time to say, “I’m bored.” My active social circle has tripled. Is there such a thing as too much of a social life? Absolutely not. It’s just I’ve never learned to handle constant exposure to yummy treats. To make things worse, I have to keep cake and snacks in the house to serve in case we decide to have friends over the last minute – something that was unusual while Hubby and I worked. For me these “goodies” are bad because I’m drawn to “company” food like ants to sugar at a picnic.
When we join friends in their homes – before or after dinner – Hubby is not tempted no matter how delectable the spread the hosts serve. That’s why he’s the only diabetic I know who doesn’t need to take the expensive pills others take. Me? My mother taught me to empty my plate. On New Year’s eve, there was actually one cake per person for dessert. Other than my husband, who only ate a piece of the sugar-free cake, the rest of us had a sample of all of the anything but low calorie desserts.
Last night we had New York friends over for cocktails before dinner. (Diet soda, salty nibbles, and cheese – cocktails just sounds better than diet soda and pretzels). By the time cocktail hour was over, I had nibbled enough calories for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I still had a meal to eat and after dinner coffee and cake back at my home to go!
Before she left, my friend said she could see that I truly had adjusted well to the major move because I was bursting with happiness.”
Hubby glanced at my too tight jeans. “Bursting is the key word.”
When we join friends in their homes – before or after dinner – Hubby is not tempted no matter how delectable the spread the hosts serve. That’s why he’s the only diabetic I know who doesn’t need to take the expensive pills others take. Me? My mother taught me to empty my plate. On New Year’s eve, there was actually one cake per person for dessert. Other than my husband, who only ate a piece of the sugar-free cake, the rest of us had a sample of all of the anything but low calorie desserts.
Last night we had New York friends over for cocktails before dinner. (Diet soda, salty nibbles, and cheese – cocktails just sounds better than diet soda and pretzels). By the time cocktail hour was over, I had nibbled enough calories for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I still had a meal to eat and after dinner coffee and cake back at my home to go!
Before she left, my friend said she could see that I truly had adjusted well to the major move because I was bursting with happiness.”
Hubby glanced at my too tight jeans. “Bursting is the key word.”
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Night, Night, Sweet Cableless Dreams
Our new television had a stroke last night. We lost picture and sound. “No signal” flashed its ever-threatening warning that the television needed expert advice. Hubby started by calling our cable company who, after reading the scripted advice without success, told him to call the manufacturer. I was stunned that they, like the cable company, had 24-hour service to guide electronically clueless seniors like us revive their televisions late at night.
I don’t know which one – cable or manufacturer - asked if we had a Wii – an electronic game you hook up to televisions – but Hubby made the mistake of saying, “Yes, our grandkids were playing with one when they were here last week.”
At first, the expert didn’t care when Hubby told him the truth – it was hooked up to another television in another room. The expert immediately diagnosed the Wii, which had been unhooked five days previous, packed up, and was now hooked up to a television in a basement in Atlanta, was the cause of our problem. I guess when Hubby repeated this to him several times in an anything but soft voice, the expert digested what this meant and then read pages from a different script. Somehow, the picture returned – without sound. Neither the cable nor the manufacturer would accept blame for the problem – but the cable company was willing to schedule a service call.
Since no repairperson can show until Friday, we bribed our Florida son with his favorite dinner and he came to see if he could help. He fidgeted with some stuff, unhooked something that begins with a series of alphabet letters, rehooked it up to restore sound until the cable company comes.
I miss the old days when televisions simply turned on and off and had no extra boxes with all sorts of programs attached to them. However, look at how many new jobs all these gadgets have created – like the writers of scripts to read to ol’ folks at 11 o’clock at night. They know we desperately need the sound of the television to put us to sleep. Last night, instead of listening to the television for our bedtime story, we listened to an unknown voice read a very useless script. Tonight, thanks to our son, the news broadcaster will hopefully bore me to sleep once again.
I don’t know which one – cable or manufacturer - asked if we had a Wii – an electronic game you hook up to televisions – but Hubby made the mistake of saying, “Yes, our grandkids were playing with one when they were here last week.”
At first, the expert didn’t care when Hubby told him the truth – it was hooked up to another television in another room. The expert immediately diagnosed the Wii, which had been unhooked five days previous, packed up, and was now hooked up to a television in a basement in Atlanta, was the cause of our problem. I guess when Hubby repeated this to him several times in an anything but soft voice, the expert digested what this meant and then read pages from a different script. Somehow, the picture returned – without sound. Neither the cable nor the manufacturer would accept blame for the problem – but the cable company was willing to schedule a service call.
Since no repairperson can show until Friday, we bribed our Florida son with his favorite dinner and he came to see if he could help. He fidgeted with some stuff, unhooked something that begins with a series of alphabet letters, rehooked it up to restore sound until the cable company comes.
I miss the old days when televisions simply turned on and off and had no extra boxes with all sorts of programs attached to them. However, look at how many new jobs all these gadgets have created – like the writers of scripts to read to ol’ folks at 11 o’clock at night. They know we desperately need the sound of the television to put us to sleep. Last night, instead of listening to the television for our bedtime story, we listened to an unknown voice read a very useless script. Tonight, thanks to our son, the news broadcaster will hopefully bore me to sleep once again.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
"It's Complicated"
The answer to “What do Jewish people do on Christmas” is usually “Go to the movies and eat Chinese food.”
I can’t disagree. It’s become a tradition – like turkey on Thanksgiving. My Mah Jongg group has been doing it for years – although for the past several years we go to someone’s home after the movie because the local Chinese restaurants are too crowded – and not just with fellow Jews. (They’re the only restaurants open in this area.)
Anyway – now that you have the background, let me share my story. To insure that no one sees the movie before the 25th, we gals pick one to see a month ahead of time. Hubby asked me several weeks ago if we did, and I answered, “It’s Complicated.”
On the morning of the 25th, he repeated the question. I couldn’t figure out why he forgot because we’d seen the coming attractions. Since we’ve both had too many senior moments lately, instead of saying my usual “you don’t listen to me,” I responded, “It’s Complicated.”
“We’re meeting everyone in a few hours,” he growled. “Don’t you think by now you should know what movie we’re going to see?”
I would like to say my story ends here, but it didn’t. When I shared it with friends on the way to the theater, one said, “Well it is hard for us to pick one none of us saw.”
The only thing funnier than Hubby’s and my friend’s response was the movie itself.
I can’t disagree. It’s become a tradition – like turkey on Thanksgiving. My Mah Jongg group has been doing it for years – although for the past several years we go to someone’s home after the movie because the local Chinese restaurants are too crowded – and not just with fellow Jews. (They’re the only restaurants open in this area.)
Anyway – now that you have the background, let me share my story. To insure that no one sees the movie before the 25th, we gals pick one to see a month ahead of time. Hubby asked me several weeks ago if we did, and I answered, “It’s Complicated.”
On the morning of the 25th, he repeated the question. I couldn’t figure out why he forgot because we’d seen the coming attractions. Since we’ve both had too many senior moments lately, instead of saying my usual “you don’t listen to me,” I responded, “It’s Complicated.”
“We’re meeting everyone in a few hours,” he growled. “Don’t you think by now you should know what movie we’re going to see?”
I would like to say my story ends here, but it didn’t. When I shared it with friends on the way to the theater, one said, “Well it is hard for us to pick one none of us saw.”
The only thing funnier than Hubby’s and my friend’s response was the movie itself.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Spooky Voices
The other day I was in the kitchen, with the windows closed, yet I still heard the faint sound of a siren. I went to the front window and saw no vehicles. I returned to the kitchen – in the middle of my house - only to hear the noise again. The siren was intermittent – almost like the noise from a kid’s friction truck – you know the kind you want to step on, but don’t - only there are no kids living in Seniorville. I ignored it, assuming it came from outside of my development, and I heard it because it was abnormally loud. I finished in the kitchen, and went into my office – the one I share with Hubby. The siren sounded as I passed Hubby’s computer.
“A new warning system about email’s that might have a virus attached,” Hubby explained when he came home, “and I haven’t installed it in yours yet.”
Not sure if I want it. Flashing signs work fine for me.
The next day, I was home alone when I heard a strange man’s voice coming from somewhere in my house. Nothing was turned on – no radio – no TV – nothing. All the windows and terrace doors were closed. Still I know a human’s voice when I hear it. Was my new house haunted, and was that why we got such a good deal? I looked out all the windows only to see rabbits nibbling on my flowers. Bravely, I searched each room, with my phone in hand. ready to call 911. The voice was getting louder, but this time I could hear the siren also. I headed for my office. Along with the siren, Hubby’s computer’s robotic voice was shouting “virus alert.”
“They improved the original,” Hubby surmised. “I guess too many people didn’t realize the reason the siren was coming from the computer.”
I wondered how many complaints the anti-virus program designers will get from police because people not sitting at their computers will think there are intruders in their homes and call 911.
The next night, unexplained voices once again spooked me.
“Was that guy calling us?” Hubby asked when we passed a crowd of people in the parking lot.
“That voice was too loud,” our friends in the rear seat said, “It sounded almost as if it was in the car.”
We drove a few more feet. Then, a voice from my glove compartment called out, “Turn right in 200 feet.”
I still haven’t figured out who turned my GPS on after I returned it to the glove compartment. I would never do anything as stupid as forgetting to turn it off when I put it away.
“A new warning system about email’s that might have a virus attached,” Hubby explained when he came home, “and I haven’t installed it in yours yet.”
Not sure if I want it. Flashing signs work fine for me.
The next day, I was home alone when I heard a strange man’s voice coming from somewhere in my house. Nothing was turned on – no radio – no TV – nothing. All the windows and terrace doors were closed. Still I know a human’s voice when I hear it. Was my new house haunted, and was that why we got such a good deal? I looked out all the windows only to see rabbits nibbling on my flowers. Bravely, I searched each room, with my phone in hand. ready to call 911. The voice was getting louder, but this time I could hear the siren also. I headed for my office. Along with the siren, Hubby’s computer’s robotic voice was shouting “virus alert.”
“They improved the original,” Hubby surmised. “I guess too many people didn’t realize the reason the siren was coming from the computer.”
I wondered how many complaints the anti-virus program designers will get from police because people not sitting at their computers will think there are intruders in their homes and call 911.
The next night, unexplained voices once again spooked me.
“Was that guy calling us?” Hubby asked when we passed a crowd of people in the parking lot.
“That voice was too loud,” our friends in the rear seat said, “It sounded almost as if it was in the car.”
We drove a few more feet. Then, a voice from my glove compartment called out, “Turn right in 200 feet.”
I still haven’t figured out who turned my GPS on after I returned it to the glove compartment. I would never do anything as stupid as forgetting to turn it off when I put it away.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Trashy Gifts
If you get a thank you note that is a bit too vague – no reference to the gift – not even a hint – I think I know why. If you are one of those who bought a gift card, put it in the envelope, and then instead of giving the gift to the honoree, you did the new “in” thing, chances are the gift is somewhere in Mt. Trashmore.
The new “in thng" is to put cash equivalent gifts in gift bags. Instead of handing the envelope directly to a human or placing it in a basket specifically for cash gifts as was done in “my day,” the envelope is now buried in colorful tissue paper, stuffed into a coordinating colorful bag and tied with ribbon. Mind you, the bag weights the same as a feather. In fact, it is so light, some people just might think it was empty.
A conversation after the party might be,
She: I saw the Smiths come in with a gift. I don’t see it here.
He: We didn’t unwrap a box from them.
She: It was on the table where they were sitting – not with the other gifts.
He: All that was on that table was trash. I tossed it in the dumpster.
She: (Voice cracking) Was there a bag with ribbons on the handle?
He: Sure, it was empty. I tossed it with the other gift-wrap.
So, if you get a thank you saying, “Thank you for your thoughtful gift. We’re glad you could join us,” don’t think the recipient doesn’t know how to write detailed thank yous. If you gave a check, and it never cleared, and you received that kind of note – call. Chances are the recipient couldn’t get to the trash before it was collected and wrote the generic note because they were too embarrassed to call you. If you gave a gift card – oh well – the store got an unintended gift from you.
As for me, I’m not using gift bags anymore – unless the gift weights a ton.
The new “in thng" is to put cash equivalent gifts in gift bags. Instead of handing the envelope directly to a human or placing it in a basket specifically for cash gifts as was done in “my day,” the envelope is now buried in colorful tissue paper, stuffed into a coordinating colorful bag and tied with ribbon. Mind you, the bag weights the same as a feather. In fact, it is so light, some people just might think it was empty.
A conversation after the party might be,
She: I saw the Smiths come in with a gift. I don’t see it here.
He: We didn’t unwrap a box from them.
She: It was on the table where they were sitting – not with the other gifts.
He: All that was on that table was trash. I tossed it in the dumpster.
She: (Voice cracking) Was there a bag with ribbons on the handle?
He: Sure, it was empty. I tossed it with the other gift-wrap.
So, if you get a thank you saying, “Thank you for your thoughtful gift. We’re glad you could join us,” don’t think the recipient doesn’t know how to write detailed thank yous. If you gave a check, and it never cleared, and you received that kind of note – call. Chances are the recipient couldn’t get to the trash before it was collected and wrote the generic note because they were too embarrassed to call you. If you gave a gift card – oh well – the store got an unintended gift from you.
As for me, I’m not using gift bags anymore – unless the gift weights a ton.
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