My sister-in-law may be right. She says: “We’re going out just in time.” Some days I totally agree. Either the computer isn’t working or I cannot remember one of my endless passwords. I called the airlines the other day to confirm my airline tickets which had to be purchased within 24 hours. Guess what? The woman wanted to know my pin number. Pin number for my airline? Name? No. Confirmation number? No. Pin Number. I didn’t have a pin number for the plane tickets. After forty minutes of wrangling with assorted airline folks, being transferred from one person to another trying to help me set up yet another pin number—being cut off and having to start again—I finally got a new pin number and the ticket confirmed. The clock was ticking and it looked like the 24-hour deadline would end and no tickets. Whee—I got them—finally.
I decided to order something on the Internet. And did. Followed all the steps and completed the other. Then I got a request saying they worked through Pay Pal for the payment. Good. I wrote a check to Pay Pal and got a notice that they didn’t think Pay Pal would take checks but would take a credit card. They wouldn’t take checks? Huh?
Then there was the Red Box in-ci-dent (as they say in the South). I decided to rent a movie. Good price. Really convenient. Ok. I pulled up Red box on the computer went through all the steps. Got yet a new password, etc. Went to the Red Box near and guess what? No movie. I had failed to finish the last step and so I stood there empty handed. Well, back home I meticulously followed the steps and voila—the computer said the movie was ready for a pick up. So—I stood in front of the Red Box trying to follow the steps to get the movie. Nothing worked. Finally two kids came by and zap—I got the movie. Great flick. If you haven’t seen “The Quartet” I recommend it. Wonderful and very funny. So—you have to take the movie back within 24 hours or they double-charge you. I went back to my friendly Red Box stood there trying desperately to send the movie back—and I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of the thing. I turned the disc every whichaway (as we say down here) and it would not go. A young guy came by and I timidly asked if he could help. He took the disc and slipped it into the slot and I was home free.
I am sorta enjoying my i-pad and I can do a decent job on the computer—when it works. I’ve even learned to “stream” movies and love my Apple TV gizmo. And I have just about learned to use my cell phone when I can get my stubby fingers to hit the right keys—but I am flat exhausted. I- Tunes keeps talking about something called Home Sharing before they promise to connect me to the movie I want to watch. Remember the way we were? I guess we have made enormous progress—but some days I think I am in a nightmare—wires everywhere...buttons on every side...voices asking for pin numbers and passwords and wanting to know if I want to take their survey. Transferring me from computerized message to computerized message on the phone. I guess I wont throw in the towel just yet. Some days I just want to be left in peace. Peace. My sister-in-law may be on to something: we old timers may be going out just in time. In the meantime I’ve got to remember to write down my last pin number and hope I remember when the time comes where I wrote it.