A Technophile's Remedy
Mitigating Pain Through Consumerism
When you hurt, you want something to take your mind off the pain. Tonsils out, ice cream in. My rewards for overcoming obstacles (like pain) must be more significant in adulthood.
Lying in bed, my replacement knee throbs and keeps saying, “You don’t deserve to be going through all this pain!” That’s the guttural, hurt child talking. But this big adult lying in bed started us down this path. I signed the consent forms days ago to have my knee replaced with metal and plastic parts. No doctor or nurse held a gun to my head to sign it. My operation didn’t result from any one accident but rather from the accumulation of years of daily abuse of this intricate bone assemblage. I asked for this new knee and knew the price would be pain and rehab.
But it does hurt. Isn’t there something that will distract me from the pain? What’s this? It’s my iPhone 13 Pro Max, almost lost in the bedclothes. That’s an e-device three generations old! It must be ready for the Smithsonian! Yes, my 13 works pretty well, except for warnings of future battery failure sometime in the future. But… it’s the “old iPhone.” Apple is coming out with their version of AI, Apple Intelligence, that will only work on iPhone 16, and later phones. I will be left behind in the dustbin of old technology.
So, I explored the online site of our cell service provider, Verizon. It didn’t seem that a new phone would cost that much when you count the trade-in for my iPhone 13. I didn’t make the purchase and left the new phone in the online cart, pending further deliberation and coming up with sound arguments to persuade my wife that this was an essential purchase.
The following day, I got a call from a Verizon online sales agent wanting to know if there were any questions he could answer to help me move the iPhone 16 Pro from the online cart to a completed purchase. Of course, just a few, but I wanted to have my wife involved in the call since she maintains our financial household integrity. Summoning her to my “sick” room, the site of my painful recovery, I explained that I had Verizon on the phone and they could answer any questions we might have about the new iPhone 16. My wife had no questions as she didn’t see the need for the phone. However, my enthusiasm plucked a heartstring in her, and she consented to the purchase. I felt a wave of wellness rush over me, a psychic bath of milk and honey that would lead me to the promised land of the newest phone technology. Oh, what I’ll be able to do with this phone! How my life will be changed!
There’s a Verizon store in Rutland, VT, which is only ten miles from us. My son could pick it up for me since I won’t be able to drive for a few months. I was told I would get a notice from the Verizon store when the phone was ready for pickup. That began a two-day wait, filled with online (not verbal) chats with Verizon reps who assured me that I had already been sent my first e-mail regarding my purchase and another would soon follow. I was in a cycle of assurance while confronted by the fact that I hadn’t received any e-mails from the store.
The only way I could see breaking this loop was a spontaneous trip to the Verizon store; my son volunteered to make that trip the next day. When he got to the store, he was confronted by a sea of confusion, but he persisted and soon delivered the new phone to my waiting hands.
The first part of my compulsion was satisfied. I want – I get. Now, I had to enter a higher plane that appreciated the new wizardry of my iPhone 16. I started the simple procedure of bringing the old and new phones close together, and then the balletic exchange of bits and bytes commenced, with my data transferred to the new phone. It was a fantastic process to watch, and I was happy that all my apps, contacts, and digital miscellany made it to my new phone.
So close to perfection, but one step remained – ensuring my phone number was ported to the new phone. Despite many frustrating attempts, my existing phone number wouldn’t work on the new phone. So, I held the future in my hand, but it didn’t work. What a letdown! Compulsions don’t end here, and let’s not forget the medicinal role compulsions can play in distracting you from the throbbing pain in your knee joint that drills, screws, and advanced adhesives have assaulted.
“Verizon,” the uber-cell provider, lives in an obsidian fortress tower of dizzying height, and there seems to be no one there to answer your calls except via a chatbot. I looked at the next four hours of my life and saw nothing important ahead, so why not sacrifice myself?
I was assured that a chat agent would be with me in a few minutes. The seconds and minutes passed by silently. Then “Mars” (was this his real name?) came on and said he was looking forward to making my experience a great one and knew that I would soon be enjoying all the wonderful features of my new phone.
Mars asked about the particulars of my case, and I typed in every detail and waited for his response. That took some time. Despite Mars’ sincerity, it was obvious that there were other customers he was dealing with while chatting with me. It’s a more sophisticated version of the McDonald’s Drive-In cashier who struggles to say “thanks” as he takes another car’s order while he hands you your receipt.
I typed “Are you still there?” several times to Mars. When I was about to close the chat window, Mars returned and asked for details of my iPhone’s cellular settings. I passed them along and waited for my phone number to become operational. Luckily, my old iPhone 13 still had a functional phone, although all its data had been transferred to the new device.
Mars inputted the codes to make my new phone work, but nothing happened. He left me as he went for a dive deep down into the digital waters. There was just a flashing cursor on my chat box screen. Was he slaying byte monsters in cyberspace? I hoped my knight was correcting wrongs cast upon innocent Verizon customers!
“There is a problem with your phone number.” This was Mars’ verdict on chat after many minutes had passed. My phone number? The one that I had used for the past twenty years? I was puzzled about this, but there was some merit in getting a new number so that my “914” area code didn’t constantly remind real Vermonters that I was a New York transplant. With an “802” area code, I could blend in with my neighbors. Meanwhile, my wife, sitting near my chat with Mars, said “NO!” as she was familiar with my number, along with the hundreds of people on my contact list.
My wife’s “NO” came too late as Mars had already canceled my 914 number, BUT - he had made the awful mistake of canceling my wife’s number instead of mine! I wish I could have sent a picture of my wife’s face to Mars so that he could have realized the horrible scope of his mistake. I texted Mars that if he and his colleagues had any hope of retaining our business, my wife’s line had to be reinstated – immediately!
Time passed. Silent cursors flashed. My wife’s number suddenly was back! A semblance of momentary domestic peace settled over the house. According to Mars, I still had to get a new (802) number for my phone as “something is still wrong with your (914) number.” If I got that diagnosis in my doctor’s office, I would have insisted on more specificity. But I was well into my second hour (nearing three) of chat and wanted a functioning phone with all my data. He assured me that the fix would only take a few moments.
I saw the (802) number in the new phone’s cell settings, but it wasn’t operational yet. “One more moment, almost there!” Mars replied, and I was so relieved that this tech nightmare was almost behind me.
Then – my old phone – stopped working! The new phone didn’t connect, and I lost the chat thread in cyberspace. No one called me back. My wife’s phone worked, but now I had two dead phones and no way to find a human to talk to! Why had things come to this? Why couldn’t I just be happy with my three-generation-old tech? Why did I give in to the siren song of Verizon’s marketers?
Both my knee and head throbbed. I scrolled through Google, desperately looking for a Verizon voice number. “Mars” was gone. I didn’t know where he was on this (or other) planet, and he had become the focus of my verbal vitriol.
Then, I found a number I hadn’t used before with Verizon. I dialed it and expected a menu of choices to shunt me down to the right operator. But no, “Toni,” said “Hi!” and I was near tears as she explained that she was from Verizon's support company, Asurion. I told her my story, and she listened, allowing for pauses when I had to compose myself. “No problem, we’ll get you up and working right away. First things first – you shouldn’t need a new number.”
WHAT???!!! Can this be true?
I read her the details of my cellular settings, and she asked me to wait. Within fifteen minutes of conversing with Toni, my new iPhone 16 was operational with my old (914) number! I had my data and a new working phone. Tears welled in my eyes, and I considered asking Toni if she and her family might want to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. Before leaving her, I declined her offer to insure my tech products for a nominal monthly sum that could be included in my Verizon bill. In clear terms, I explained that it was a miracle that I hadn’t welcomed in the guys waiting outside from the local AT&T & T-Mobile stores. Enough! Be grateful we’re still a Verizon customer!
Yes, this whole nightmare took four hours from our lives, including when my wife and son returned my old phone to the Verizon store for a credit on our account. They explained the scene there was similar to an airplane crash, with survivors stumbling about through the wreckage. No authority figures seemed in charge, and the inmates had taken over the asylum. My family eventually received a receipt for the phone trade-in and left, leaving mobs of customer chaos behind them.
I’m now sitting in my bed with my bandaged knee, enjoying my new toy - I mean - tool. I am ready for Apple Intelligence to descend upon me and improve my life. I’m equipped for the next adventures in cyberspace!
The pain in my knee has lessened.
Reminders as to why I don't want knee replacement and definitely don't want an iphone!!!!
And good luck with the knee. I had a total left hip replacement in 2018 and the first five weeks were hell, but then I recovered very quickly. Just remember, all you have to do is HEAL.