

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
So, here we go again, first world blues. I’m just a jaded American who is too easily irritated and prone to whining.
Amazon and the USPS are at my issue’s center. Really, it’s more than that. I have a cat getting on in age. He’s been puking often. Give him hairball stuff. These are hard little pellets. He likes them. They help some. But still, a puke every other day. He’s otherwise a happy, healthy, good-looking boy.
Reading online, others suggest a raised tilted food bowl will help alleviate the issue. Well, why not? I will try that.
I searched locally. Nada. Widened the local search. Nada. Reluctantly turned to the net. Ended up on Amazon. I really try to avoid ordering from Amazon. Amazon is wealthy. Its founder, Bezos is super-wealthy, as wealthy as a small nation. Doesn’t pay much in taxes, he or his corporation. That sort of matter irritates me. Plus, I hear his employees aren’t overly happy working for him.
So, avoid them when I can. But I went with the bowl on Amazon because, reviews, and convenience. Well, so much for convenience.
It shipped right out. Great. Was due for delivery yesterday. USPS. Okay. Was out for delivery at 6:10 AM. Either my wife and I were home all day. Never a time when both of us were out.
Checked the front porch throughout the day. Nada. Talked to Alexa about it. Chirpy as always, she assured me it was out for delivery. Went up and checked the mailbox at 6:30 PM. Nada. Checked online. Out for delivery. Okay.
First thing this morning, I asked Alexa about the delivery. “Your package was delivered to your selected pick up point.”
What the hell does that mean? I checked the front porch. Nada. Dressed, I prepared to walk up to our mailbox. On a whim, though, I checked online.
They said it was waiting for pick up. The USPS claimed that they tried delivering it at 4:02 PM. Now it happens that I know that I was at home at 4 PM. I was at that moment reading a book, “Law of Innocence” by Michael Connolly. I was doing that in the dining room, about fourteen feet from the front door. Facing the kitchen window. Which looks out at the front porch. I know that time because I was thinking that I had to make dinner but I wanted to walk a few miles and what time would I do these things? If someone walked onto the front porch, I would have seen them. Had they knocked, I would have heard them. If they rang the bell, you get it.
I was annoyed. No, pissed. Mostly because the USPS lied to me. Then they shifted the burden of delivery to me. I can either walk or drive a few miles to get the package they’d been hired to deliver.
Yes, I know. First world blues, right?
I decided to contact Amazon ‘customer service’ about. Can’t really call it customer service. It’s a bot that sent me around in circles without satisfaction. The bot said it was delivered. I replied, “I didn’t get it.”
“Did you look around the house?” the bot inquired.
No, I’m an idiot and this is the first time that I’ve ever had something delivered, I snapped back, but that answer wasn’t available to enter. You can only enter pre-canned responses. It makes it easier on Amazon. I selected, “Yes, I didn’t find it.”
“Well,” the bot replied, “the status was updated too early. It’ll get there.”
That was it.
I searched for ways to contact Amazon. They provided me a number to call USPS. I imagined how that call would go.
Yes, I know the answer to all of this. “You get what you pay for.”
I finally succumbed to talking to Amazon. Didn’t want to. Like most Americans, I prefer written correspondence. But I hit the button. Amazon called. I talked them through it. They contacted the USPS and brought them up on the call. “It was an early scan,” the USPS rep said.
Yeah, sure.
“It’ll be delivered tomorrow.”
Terrific.
They thanked me for my patience.
I hung up.
Sun broke in the day at 5:37 AM, kicking the heat up to 71 degrees F. We hit 101 at my house yesterday, and it only dropped to 64 during the night. We expect the high to be a more merciful 96 before the Earth’s rotation moves us away from the sun again at 8:41 PM.
Today is Wednesday, June 2, 2021. We’re almost to the year’s midpoint. As for COVID-19 vaccinations, we’ve passed 54 percent in Oregon for at least one shot. Our neighbors to the north and south, Washington and California, are about the same. Idaho to the east, though, is leveling off at below forty percent. It’s like they’re not even trying.
Today’s music is dream inspired. I joined the blues society in my dream. I thought one of my favorite performances of a song called “Why I Sing the Blues” would be a satisfying theme song. Thanks to technology, we can enjoy this moment. Here’s B.B King, Albert King, Gladys Knight, Etta James, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Billy Ocean, Doctor John, Chaka Khan…and more. What a line-up.
Get the vax, wear a mask as needed, test negative, and stay positive. Enjoy the blues. Cheers
Our county library has changed its system.
Again.
I was happy with the old system. They didn’t ask me. Running the library was outsourced to a private, for-profit firm several years ago. They asked me. I voted against it. I was outvoted. As a result of that move, the library hours were immediately cut, and people were let go.
Then came the coronarivus…
They’ve been doing a pretty good job during the pandemic. Kinda hard to screw up. Put a book on hold. When it’s available, present self at door. Provide name and card number. Librarian checks book out and gives it to you. You return the book to a drop box when you’re done with it.
That all worked well but changes were required. Technology sprints ahead. We must catch up. ‘They said’ in their notice that it would be easier to search online content and find my books. I was having no problem with those things. They can’t be easier than that, can they?
‘They’ also told me that the first time I logged in, my PIN would be the last four digits of my telephone number. I logged in today and entered the last four digits of my telephone number. ‘That information is incorrect’, the system told me. Okay, reset password.
I went through that, receiving the link to do this in my email account. After I reset my PIN, I went to my account to see what telephone number was in my account.
It was a number that I didn’t know.
Naturally. Technology, right. GIGO. Garbage in, etc.
I changed the number. The system told me a librarian would review the information before updating my account.
Whatever.
I logged out.
A few hours passed. My wife wanted to know what books were on the hold list. She uses my account because she didn’t want to go through the bother of getting a new library card the last time that the system changed, a few years ago.
I logged in.
‘That information is incorrect’, the system told me.
WTF? No, it isn’t.
Well, the system disagreed. Everyone knows that the system wins in these instances.
I reset my password again via an email link. For extra points, I used the PIN that I’d previously created.
Yeah, it took.
I remained logged in afterward. But then again, I decided, log out, because if it doesn’t recognize me and I need to reset my PIN, well, three times is a charm, right?
Does technology know that?
I have my telemedicine video call today. It has an element incorporated that I knew nothing about: digitized smell.
Apparently, recent software improvements has been added to many video-conferencing systems. These improvements capture local air, digitize it, send it through the net to the other end, and then reproduces the smell. This is being done in conjunction with telemedicine calls because studies show that patients develop greater confidence and feel calmer when they experience ‘hospital smells’. That mélange of odors isn’t by accident. It’s actually a carefully contrived blend created by psychologists and marketing specialists over decades of study. It is the smell which makes people feel safer, more secure, and soothed.
Trippy, right? All this time, I thought the smells were an accidental by-product.
The second aspect of the technology is that it allows the healthcare practitioners to smell you. That aids them in their assessment about your state of health.
I can see that. Makes total sense. It’s also fake news. Yes, fiction. Made it all up. Yep, I lied.
I’m always complaining, ranting, and whining about things that don’t work. Especially technology that doesn’t work or that doesn’t live up to the initial hype. Like ATMs. Teller machines. They were supposed to save us all money, they claimed, back in the beginning. Why, with the savings they would make, they’d be paying us zillions of dollars in interest. Sure.
Customer service is usually my target. I’m still dealing with the PIN issued for the new credit card because the PIN still doesn’t work —
But that’s not what this post is supposed to be about, so let me make that shift. This is instead about doing my income taxes.
I use software to do my taxes, been doing that for over twenty years. I’ve been using H&R Block’s software for the last nine years. Each year, the whole process becomes a little better. This year, it sparkled with amazing efficiency. I completed the taxes and filed a few weeks ago. “Your return should be accepted without two to three days,” the software told me. Zap, my Fed return was accepted in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes later, Oregon accepted it.
Well, cool, isn’t that great? I thought so. “You should receive your refund in two to three weeks,” the software told me. The IRS has made this part really easy, establishing a place online where you can put in some info and see what’s going on with your tax return. I figured that I’d check that the next week for an update.
Two days later, I checked into the checking account online. Lo, a deposit was pending, and gave the date when it would be received, along with the amount. Yes, it was my tax refund. I was receiving it less than seven days after filing.
I thought that deserved a shout out.
Digital lapse was endured.
Familiar with it? That’s when you click or press and nada takes place. But, being experienced, you know that something has taken place. It’s just not revealed. Novices will think nothing has happened and press buttons or click more. The clicks and taps accumulate, causing a crash or a sudden surge of activities that take you to somewhere that you don’t want to be, digitally speaking, like the wrong screen.
I’m not a novice. I’ve been clicking remotes on digital devices for a decade. Digital lapse is an old adversary. I experience it most with our streaming devices for viewing television shows and movies. Disney Plus is the worst offender in my current stable of providers. But finally I was on the screen where “The Mandalorian” was being offered. One blessing from the Disney Plus site is that it doesn’t immediately start playing trailers. It’s just quiet. Waiting.
I jumped up and set down the remote. Head down, a cat eyed me, ears moving toward my racket. “Popcorn?” I moved around my desk.
We were in the office. We are spoiled people. Although we have a sixty-five inch curved-screen 4K ultra-high definition smart TV in the living room, with surround sound, we do ninety percent of our television viewing in the home office. My wife calls it the snug. A twenty-seven inch flat screen television is mounted on one wall. My desk faces it. So does a recliner in the corner. My wife reclined there. Busy with a game on her AirMac or whatever her Apple machine is called, she nodded.
Making popcorn has become simple. Back when I was a child, popping corn required oil, popcorn, and a big black cast iron Dutch oven. Oil was spread across the bottom. The Dutch oven’s bottom, not mine. You know, inside it. Heat applied. Three kernels were dropped in. A lid applied. The kernels were monitored. Once they popped, kernels were poured in and spread across the hot oil, covering the bottom. Lid applied, a pot holder was acquired. I’d stand there, shaking the Dutch over as the kernels popped.
Jiffy Pop changed it. No need to pour everything. Just peel off the cardboard lid, hold the tin pan over the flame, and shake as the kernels cooked and the foil cover rose.
Microwaves changed it up again. We experimented with several methods before Pop Secret came along. It was just a folded bag. Put it in the microwave, one side up, and press the button. Then monitor as the popping proceeded.
Monitoring has remained the constant. The popcorn was always being monitored. Was that the last pop? Time to stop.
Deciding that we didn’t like that kind of microwave popcorn, our household had regressed back to where I’d started, oil in pan, kernels, lid, popping, add corn, lid, shake. No longer, though. We’d acquired a silicon microwave popcorn maker last year. No oil. Pour the popcorn in to the line. Apply silicon lid. Turn microwave on for four minutes. Monitor. Is that the last pop? Count to five.
It’s amazingly simple, quiet, and easy. So is clean up. I fear that it won’t last. News will break. Scientists will announce that radicalized burrblelons released from the silicon attacks your nervous system when you ingest popcorn made in such a manner. That’s how everything seems to be: something good is found and announced. We like it. Then we discover it’s bad for you or the world.
I poured the popcorn into bowls, flavored it with nutritional yeast, cleaned out the silicon popper and put it away, and headed back to the snug.
The cat had taken my seat. Curled up tightly, he didn’t bother looking up. Ears and tail were still. His eyes were closed. Probably pretending to be asleep.
Dropping to my knees on the carpet beside him, I picked up the remote and pressed play. Digital lapse was endured. Then the show began.