Tag: Computers

Logging In

I had to go ‘incognito mode’ and log into Gmail. Don’t ask.

I give it my identification. My password.

Okay, my computer tells me. “Go to you phone and click on the link texted to you so we know it’s you.”

I did so.

The computer showed me three numbers in circles. “Now,” it said, “click on the number that corresponds with the number shown on your phone.”

I did so.

“Now,” the computer said. “Hop up and down on your left foot three times and bow to your right.”

I did so.

“Now,” the computer said, “Say Rumpelstiltskin is my name.”

I did so.

I was finally able to log in.

Seriously, I did it all until the hopping part. But I don’t think that’s too far off in the future.

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Old Humor – Amazon Echo Silver

My sister and I were talking about how Mom sometimes talks to Alexa as if it’s a person. That reminded me of this old SNL skit. Hope you laugh as much as I did.

Cheers

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The Comparison: Computer, Trump

It feels like my computer is starting to treat me like it’s Trump. It doesn’t tell me what’s going on or give me a reliable time window.

I’m accustomed to my computer telling me to do things but explaining why it’s doing things. They gave me options: do you want to update and shutdown, or shutdown without updating? Other options were also available.

Along those lines, the computer would inform me about how long it would take — three minutes, two minutes, six.

Yes, they were using computer time. This is not ordinary time. Comparable times are shopping time and waiting time.

“It’ll be just a minute,” I hear. “Maybe two.” Those minutes compound into ten. Fifteen.

Worse, though, are NFL minutes. Especially the last two minutes of a half or game. I did some research and the average final two minutes of an NFL game lasts ten to twenty minutes. Some estimates show that the final two minutes of a four-quarter NFL football game can consume about five to ten percent of the game’s total time, which is wild if you think about it.

The NFL does give us a ‘two-minute warning’. Unfortunately, they’re very terse about it. “This is the two-minute warning.” They should add, “The next two minutes can take anywhere from two and half minutes to eternity. Go use the restroom now, get something to eat and drink, and let your family know where you are.”

Computer time has now overtaken the NFL’s final time minutes as ‘the time that can’t be measured’. My computer doesn’t tell me many times now how long updates or searches will take. It leaves it vague: “This might take a few minutes.”

You think?

I was running a process to check for memory leaks the other night. Yes, on my computer, not for me.

Anyway, the computer warned me, “This might take a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting for an update.

And that’s like Trump. Time doesn’t mean anything when he makes promises or projections. Well, neither do facts, for the most part.

For example: Trump was asked when he would come up with his replacement for ACA. Two weeks, he told us, over five years ago.

When will the Iran war end? “When I feel it in my bones.”

Great.

Sounds just like my computer.

When will the search be finished?

“When I feel it in my hardware.”

Thank you for your attention to this matter!

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Internetus Interruptus

Our Internet connection was down this weekend. Started Saturday and dragged through Sunday.

We use Ashland Home Net. Owned by the city, we want to support our city. The service has been reliable. Like everything, though, there can sometimes be outages.

The net went down Saturday afternoon. We gave it time to come back up. Didn’t. So — reboot system. Still no connectivity.

I called our service provider and left a message. It’s a small organization and they don’t have someone in the office at night and on weekends. But they check their messages and get back to you.

They did get back to us on Sunday. We were out. I had my cell phone with me. “Private number” it said. I ignored it. Later, I listened to the message, which was Ashland Home Net telling me that they couldn’t find a record of our account.

*grumble grumble*

When we were home after our Easter festivities with friends, I pulled our records to call Ashland Home Net and give them our account number. The folder had notes from previous issues and fixes. This included one from 2023: “Netgear router inadvertently reset (button on side — beware).” I had the Netgear instruction pamphlet attached to the folder.

Aha.

I pulled out the pamphlet, followed the instructions, and got us back online.

I also called Ashland Home Net and gave them our account number, just to close that loop. And they called back, apologized for not being able to find us, baffled by that side of it, confirming that we were online again and weren’t experiencing any more interruptus.

Normal online life resumed.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Mom and sis are coping and adjusting, per usual. Mom is an interesting case. When she’s doing well, she’s happy on her own. When she’s doing poorly, she gets crabby and wants visitors. But her crabbiness repels people, so they stay away. Not a good dynamic.

So many things must be tended for Mom. The emptying and cleaning of her house, of course, and then putting it on the market. Those are expected, straightforward, but work. The matters causing the most headaches and frustrations are these modern matters. Changing phone plans because Mom’s phone was on Frank’s plan. Canceling her internet and cable. Those things were done online, through passwords and account numbers and usernames and things like that. Mom has it written down but it’s all been changed so many times because they changed systems or the passwords expired, or it didn’t work for God knows why, as Mom would say.

Then there are the prescription drugs. Sam’s Club is Mom’s pharmacy. Frank was her delivery system. Now sis is her delivery system, but sis doesn’t have the time to make regular runs like Frank did. These things can be delivered but the co-pay must be paid for. Does Mom have a credit card on file? Yes, she does, she says, no, you don’t, the pharmacy replies. Back and forth they go, driving sis insane.

It all makes me think. Mom is but twenty years older than me, and the way my health is trending…LOL. I think, I must be better prepared. Sure, passwords are written down and secured but they must be found by whoever is taking care of me at that point.

Maybe it’ll be AI or a bot assisting me by that point. A Medibot. Watching AI and bots in action at this stage, though, I’m not reassured. Maybe, maybe, they’ll have it worked out in twenty years.

Time will tell. Always does, doesn’t it?

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

Enshittification! J’accuse!

Okay, this is a first world rant. Part of the first world blues I’m always singing.

My recurring prescription drugs are supplied through Express Scripts. And it works great. Except when it doesn’t. It didn’t this week.

I received a message from them to give them authorization to start an autofill on one of my prescriptions. I logged in and did as required. Another message came in: you have one item in your cart. Please complete your purchase.

WTAF?

I didn’t ‘complete the purchase’. I gave them feedback. Asked them to call.

Which they did. It was Kelly. She explained why she was calling in a chipper, professional voice edged with a little nervous quiver. I explained why I was annoyed. How I felt the system was telling me to do two different things. She then began explaining to me why my interpretation wasn’t correct. Nothing she was saying aligned with the messages or my experience. Reaching the point of irritation and recognition that nada was getting changed, I thanked Kelly and prepared to hang up.

“Well, do you want me to take care of getting the autofill restarted?” she asked.

Well, I thought I’d done that when I logged in and clicked on a button to start autofill. “Yes, please,” I answered. Kelly talked through the process of what had happened, what she was doing, and…

Her tone faltered. I sensed that she saw exactly what I meant in my complaint. Then, she finally said in a low voice, “Sometimes this system doesn’t make sense.”

Vindication!

I smiled.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Kelly asked.

My smiled stayed. “No, Kelly. You have a great day and a great week.”

“Why, thank you. You, too.”

With that, we said our goodbyes and I basked in my tiny, tiny victory.

1

Me Against the Machine!

TL/DR: I lost again.

I received a paper check in the mail. After posting it to the wall for action for ten days, I launched myself to the credit union to make a deposit at the ATM. After processing it all, pressing the right buttons, and answering their questions, the machine told me with an exclamation point, “Invalid Transaction!”

“How the fuck is that an invalid transaction,” I muttered at the screen. It didn’t answer.

Well, one failure is a fluke. Two is a coincidence. Three is a trend as a failure. I did it four times. Fed the check into the machine four different ways. Always came back, “Invalid Transaction!”

It’s not me, I consoled myself. Has to be the machine. Still, it did sting to walk away a failure.

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