Telephony, or Tell A Phony #T

The telephone was conceived as a convenience.  We pay considerable money for telephone service.  It is, therefore, our telephone line, our number.  It is a pain in the neck.

Just when I start to give people the benefit of the doubt, someone somehow removes the doubt.  People are jerks.  Well, a lot of them, apparently.  I really want to think that people are good, and kind, and caring, and respectful of others.  Not so much anymore.

Telephone abuse.  Let me preface this by saying, yes, all our phone lines are listed on the "do not call" registry.  So what? The same type people who will hack your computer will abuse your telephone.  Some weeks the only calls received in my home are unsolicited solicitors, and most of them are disembodied voices.  "Hi, I'm Elizabeth," and so on.  Try talking to Elizabeth.  Also, guess who is paying for my telephone service.  Oh, wait.  I already told you.

Then we have the pharmacy.  Wakes me up at 9:01 a.m. to tell me my prescription is ready at. . . And so on.  I know I ordered the meds; I know when I plan to pick it up.  Leave me alone!

And the medical profession generally.  "We are calling to remind you that you have an appointment with. . ."  Calendar.  They cannot imagine that I keep a calendar?  What is the matter with people?  Also, after the appointment, "Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions regarding your recent visit to ____ Medical Facility?"  No.  I wasted enough time in the waiting room when I was there.

Then there are the calls we initiate.  Disembodied voice:  "If you are a current customer. . . press 1; if you. . ." and so on and so on.  "If you want to hear this menu again. . ."  Yikes!  Then press five to talk to a customer service representative.  "All our associates are currently busy with other customers.  We value you. . . please hold. . ."  (Elevator music; bad elevator music)

Well, you have been there.  Too often if your life is like ours; but then perhaps things are better where you live.  If you are on another planet.

Okay, good night.  I must get to bed, try to get some rest because "they" are coming to arrest me in the morning.  That's what I was told.  "You have four violations on your recent tax return and if you don't call this number today, you WILL be arrested in the morning!"  (I said, "Bring it on!"  But of course I was talking to the disembodied voice.)

Ten word Wednesday: Our times

Her children visit Mother.  They are all really into it!

An Admonition Shared Again

[This is a rerun from June 2011.  I was motivated to redact and repost it whilst visiting BBBH's facebook account.  People regularly post things that we wouldn't even tell our mothers. Especially would not tell our mothers.  Yet it is on display for the world to view.  Some of these people are near and dear to me.  They are not stupid, but one has to suspect that in many cases their judgment mill is running on fumes if at all.  I read my spouse's facebook pages?  It is only fair.  She can read my blogs if she wants.

I keep a journal, such as it is, as a private blog.  I maintain this blog site simply as a place to record thoughts, be they sensible or not. I look back at it once in a while, primarily to remind myself that it is a good idea not to share everything one thinks with everyone one knows. Or doesn't know.

It seems to me as I surf through the interwebs, as I read newspapers, and as I listen to the radio or television, that there are entirely too many people with too much to say which is unfiltered and unthought. I suspect I have been guilty of same. But I do try to confine much of the drivel that seeps through my mind to the private blog, or better yet, to the dustbin. When I choose to post something on String Too Short to Tie, it is my hope, while I know I was entertained by it, that if someone else should happen upon it, they, too, will be amused or enlightened.

So, in summary, think twice before posting once.
I do wish I could learn to apply that rule to conversations with BBBH!




This one showed up after I had put this post to bed, so I woke it up to insert this addendum.

It was inevitable.

Prior to this week, I had never so much as heard of a "selfie stick."*  Our technology has developed to the point that we can always maintain contact with anyone, anytime, anywhere.  It has been equipped in such a way that it can be utilized to ensure that we never have to be in contact with another human creature.

So it is that since we no longer need each other, it is critical that one be able to fend for himselfie in all circumstances.  Therefore, one must be able to record the activities of the selfie. For a mere thirty bucks or so, you, too, can be the prideful owner of a selfie stick.  You may prance and preen for the camera without the assistance of another.

Now we can record every step in life

With no need for friend or wife.

Anywhere, everywhere snap a selfie

Store the memory stick on a shelfie 

For no one else gives a crappie

Now doesn't that make your ego happy?

New York City

Sunday afternoon, February 15

Newsflash

The MoMA announced today that it will impose a ban on the selfie stick on its premises.

Now there is someone who got it right.  A bold statement and a move in the right direction.

*I should have anticipated the introduction of this gizmo, for BBBH gave me a camera for Christmas which has a screen on the lens side for the express purpose of framing "selfies."  I don't know whether or not it works.

How the World Works, 21st Century

A few weeks ago, I searched the interwebs for a halogen light bulb, even going so far as to click on a vendor and check out the prices and availability.

Fast forward to the present.  When I open various pages on my browser, pop-up and sidebar ads for architects' lamps abound.  Now, one realizes that we are monitored, and that advertisers impinge themselves upon us at every click, but does it not seem reasonable to believe that were I going to purchase any such item I would have done so, well, weeks ago?

There may be a built-in expiration date, though.  About a year ago, I searched for a mother board for a flat screen TV set which was malfunctioning.  The ads for TV sets finally petered out some months later.  We'll see what happens with the lamps.