I remember when telephones were installed, serviced, and maintained by the local phone company. The choices were very minimal, but so was the confusion. Just make an appointment with the telephone company, and show him or her where the phone should be located. Now, of course, the choices are endless.
What and where to buy and how to hook up and coordinate the "system" are major challenges for me. Needing a couple of new phones for our house, I was talked into a "main phone," with several hand-helds to be placed strategically around the house. It sounded like the perfect solution at the store, until I opened the box and began reading the directions. It was returned for a simple phone, at a fraction of the cost. But it was working as soon as the battery was charged.
I was terrified the engine would blow up or something the first time I was forced to put gasoline in my car by myself. It was another few months before someone was kind enough to tell me I didn't have to hold the nozzle for the fill up; I could prop it open, and it would automatically shut off when full. Now, I get irritated when the gasoline computer system can't read my credit card, and I must walk to the office.
I frequented the smaller, locally owned grocery stores as long as they were in business. Maybe it was the traumatic experience the first time I went to a "super store," waited until all groceries were keyed in, then was told by the cashier I would find the bags located at the end of the aisle-and I should get started. I awkwardly began putting in my purchases, only to drop a jar of mayonnaise at my feet. "I'm so sorry; I don't know how to sack," I apologized. I fondly remember the times I drove up to the front door, popped the trunk lock, and the young bag boy loaded my groceries for me.
Automated telephone systems first tell you a variety of options, ask you to select the closest one, then ask you a battery of questions. It distresses me to be asked to punch in a 16-digit code and make an error at digit 14, only to have to begin the process again-there's no way to clear the number on the telephone. Then, I'm asked to repeat the same information when a human answers the phone.
I still wait in line for a real person at the bank. I can't remember all those security numbers and access codes, but I do recognize faces of friends, who also recognize me. More than once I've been frustrated to tears at an ATM machine. I'll probably switch banks if I'm forced to utilize online banking regularly. Give me the check to sign, the cash to hold, and the teller to hand it to. I was even told by a personal banker friend-after a couple of drinks, of course-that most bankers absolutely won't allow automatic deposits or online banking on their personal accounts.
Computer service technicians are miracle workers in my eyes. When my computer acts up, please fix it ASAP so I can get back to work. Don't torture me with on-line assistance with 31,000,000 user quotations, I beg of them.
I was frightened to death the last time I walked through O'Hare airport. Not because of the people, wait, or security checks, but because I saw rows of self-service check-in/boarding pass kiosks. I really don't mind the lines for check in; I want a person to ask if my bags have been out of my possession at any time. My great fear is being late to the gate because of a computer technical error-mine at the kiosk. I much prefer to begin my journey at Greater Peoria Regional Airport. Usually, there're a few friends waiting in line or behind the counter.
Personal service with a smile. I'll take it. TPW