Caved

 I don't know whether to walk in shame or in pride for yesterday I took a short ride and parked for some reason by AT&T I caved, don't you see? Came home with a cell phone in my pocket but I'm beginning to think I might have to lock it in the house for safe-keeping For trust me my eyes are leaking it won't fit in my pocket dang thing is so big to carry it would drive me out of my wig  Man-purse you say  Get out of here go away  There is no such thing  Ring-a-ding-ding  So grab my flip phone and out the door No bad choices today or forevermore.  I hope.

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!

Phone Store

 

The only part of this I truly understand is that when dealing with a cell-phone service provider you are going to be disappointed at the very best.  First on the pricing of the plan then sooner or later on some other issue.

My daughter told me this story:

I went to the phone store to upgrade to a new phone.  The contract offered an upgrade after three years of service.  I had the plan for four years and the phone was behaving erratically, so I took it in for an exchange.

The clerk poked a few computer keys, brought up my account and said, "I'm sorry, but you have already used your free upgrade."

"Say what?  I most certainly have not!"

" Yes, ma'am. It shows right here that you came in six months ago and got a new charger cord for the phone.  That's an upgrade."

The clerk was advised in no uncertain terms that I would be switching to another provider.  When I got in the car along with my twelve year-old grandson who was with me I noticed as I was snapping my seat belt that the boy was silently staring straight ahead.  I started the car, turned to him and said, "What's the matter?"

"Turn off the car, Grandma."  I am Nana, never Grandma, so I knew this was serious.  I turned the key, turned toward him and said, "What?"

"I don't want you to drive while you are mad."

I said, "Do you think I was rude back there?"

"A little bit."

I have heard or read many, many accounts detailing numerous ways in which the customer has been taken in the process of upgrading including the instances in which the "upgrade" lost them some features they had before; but of course, they could be added on for an additional cost.  

People wonder why the elders say things like "Oh, for the good old days."
 

Winters in Paradise

We have enjoyed many "winters" in Hildalgo County, Texas and in other parts of South Texas.  The population of Hidalgo County is largely Hispanic, 88% according to demographic data.

I have a plate on the front of the vehicle which reads "VANILLA."  Sometimes a citizen will notice the plate and say, "Va-nee-ya?" pronouncing it as a Spanish word.  Touching my chest with my right hand I reply, "Yes, si.  I am va-nee-ya."  Always gets a smile.

Conversations with the younger people are not difficult for in most cases their English is as good as mine.  But talking with the old-timers often consists of much hand-waving, "Ah, so." and so on, utilizing the half-dozen Spanish words I know and the half dozen English words he knows.

Fun times in Texas.  Surely wish we were planning to be there again this coming winter;.

Word of the day: vanilla

Zip a Dee Doo Dah

Can you believe it?  It is July again.  Seems only, oh, a year ago that it was July.

And what is it with Zippy?  Well, and I know you will want to celebrate this major advancement in communications, the Zip Code system was introduced by the United States Postal Service on July 1, 1963.

I can remember a day in which the Post Office would deliver your mail if it was addressed to the right town (okay, if the town were not really big).  Now they will not deliver your mail if the street number is one digit off the correct one.  I can also remember when the carrier walked his route twice a day to see that your mail was delivered in a timely manner.

The Service makes rules even they cannot follow.  I have a post office box, by choice-- I also have a valid street address.  One of the rules, posted prominently, is that the clerk is prohibited from handing mail across the counter, "don't forget your key."  Now stick with me.  If you were to address a package to me, the size of which would preclude its being stuffed into my p.o box, the mail clerk will put a little orange note into my box, which I am to take to the clerk, who in turn will hand me the package over the counter.  See what I am saying here?

Well, I guess I see the world through jaundiced eyes, and I am easily amused.  I am so fortunate.

Oh, yes.  I can also remember when a first-class letter could be mailed for three cents, and a postcard cost a penny.  But then, you did know that I am pretty old.

(Also, I know the guy's name is Mr. Zip, but you will excuse me if I continue to refer to him as "Zippy.")

Wired!

Wherein the lady's purchases makes work for her man.  Electrifying!

The second day at the sawmill left me to pull off and stack by myself, because Red Hurd had a prior commitment.  But Grandpa was there, brighter than a penny and chirkier than Pollyanna.  "Waal," he enthused, "Old Sol'll be up in a minute.  God has started His day; we best be gettin' ours started."

"Grandpa, your enthusiasm is less contagious than it is irritating at this hour."

"Lad, you are in for a miserable and probably difficult life, you don't re-adjust your attitude."

"Aw," I replied, "you know I'm only funning with you."

"Yeah, I know.  But I'm tellin' the truth.  Come on, let's fire up that mill."

It was a smooth morning of good work, even if we were short-handed.  We finished the last log just before eleven o'clock.  We all sat down by the pump, had us each a long draught of cool water.  Uncle Jep said, "Sam, you din't finish tellin' whut Mary and Margaret bought over to Lamar thet day."  Grandpa and I both near fainted, we were so taken aback.  Could this be, that Jep Miller was asking someone else to spin a yarn?  Seems it was, for he said, "Go on, now, Sam.  We been waitin' since yestiddy to get the wherefores of your tale."

"Waal, I told you the womenfolk got in the truck, and Mary tells me to drive on over to the loading dock at the Mercantile.  So I did it.  There was a stack of boxes yea high waitin' for us.  Mark Todd was standing there with the lading recipe for me to sign.  The first box warn't too heavy, maybe twenty, twenty-five pound.  The next two were real light.  Now what could that be?  Those women haven't been hornswoggled into buying two boxes of air, have they?  The next five boxes were middlin' to heavy, like machinery, I'd say.

Waal, there's nothin' for it but that I tell you what those gals had done.  The first box was dry goods and notions, enough material, threads and ribbons to keep their sewing projects going for who knows how long.  The two "airy" boxes, no, not air, but foolishments, nevertheless, but don't ye ever tell Mary or Margaret I said that.  Hats.  They each bought a new hat.  Why, what is the world comin' to, woman spend a man's hard-earned cash on such frivolous things."

"Where you been, Sam?" asked Uncle Jep.  "Women been purely attracted to folderol since Rachel put Laban's idols in her kip.  But get on with it.  Whut was in the heavy boxes?"

"That is the part you won't believe.  Now Mary went and bought a new Zenith Farm Radio, Tombstone model.  Said she couldn' afford to pass it up, as they was offerin' a Wincharger* for only fifteen dollars with purchase of the radio."

"So how much did it cost you for the radio and all?"  I in my impertinence interjected.

"I'm comin' to that," Grandpa growls.  "I swan, this younger generation have no patience at all."  Anyway, the radio was thirty dollars.  I mean, do you know how long it takes a man to accumulate thirty dollars?  Then there was the fifteen for the charger.  And then, then you have to have warr, and staples, and insulators and all thet electrical mumbo jumbo.  And it were all in there, too, because that salesman really knew what he was doin'.  "How far," he said, "is it from the house to the toolshed?"

"Oh," Mary replied, "see that lamppost on the other side the street, down there in front of Mode o' Day?  About that far."

"Good, then.  You'll need about 130 feet of wire.  I'll give you 150, anything longer than five feet you don't need, we'll refund.  Six insulators, box of staples.  You are all set to go then.  Sam will get a kick out of this."

"Well, of course I growled some," continued Grandpa, "like what in the name of Sam Hill do we need with a radio?"  Well, she told me, and I've said no more about it.  Set to work and installed the little tower on top the tool shed, ran the wire.  Neat job I did, too.  Charger not only take care of the battery for the radio, I hung a old headlight from that Essex we dumped by the creek.  Put 'er up right there in the kitchen.  Why, it is just like daylight there in the kitchen of an evenin'.  Radio reception?  You would not believe the places we can listen to after the sun goes down, and Mary so enjoys the foolishments that are on that thing of an afternoon.  Well, a man shouldn't deprive his lady person of a few little pleasures in life.  Lord knows she works her fingers to the bone around the place."

*Many companies made wind chargers for battery operated electrical equipment on the farm in the day prior to rural electrification.  Wincharger Corporation of Sioux City, Iowa was one of the premier manufacturers of wind powered chargers.  In 1934, executives of the Zenith Radio Corporation made a visit to the factory, placed an order for 50,000 units and took 51% interest in the company.  

© 2014 David W. Lacy