Warning. This rant was written by Cranky Gerry a month ago and left in the Drafts file to marinate. This morning I fished it out and toweled it dry and decided to post it. Waste not want not. But it needed graphic adornment. Here is an attractive stone wall. Perhaps I will go bang my head on it for awhile.
(Antrim County, Michigan – April 2, 2012) This has been a challenging week. Apparently I might be arrested for failure to respond to a 28-page Official Form. Maybe not. It’s hard to tell. Maybe I will have to pay a $5,000 fine instead. Curious about the actual consequences, I call the number provided for Help and Questions. The automated answering system does not offer relevant details. I try again—this time oprimo el número dos para español—but the option I need remains AWOL. I am pleased that I remember enough of my neglected Spanish to know that.
The phone wakes me up at 7:15, exactly 15 minutes before the alarm would have accomplished the same thing. It is an automated call confirming my appointment with a repair person. I fumble the automated response and hear a severe warning that I must be there to receive the automated call or my appointment will be canceled. The robot hangs up on me. I am morose. I already stayed home on Sunday afternoon to receive an automated call confirming my appointment but apparently my automated responses on Sunday were insufficient. I know that once I negotiate the automated confirmation call there will be one more hurdle: the automated call telling me that the repair person is actually on the way and will arrive in approximately half an hour.
I make coffee. The phone rings. This time I am prepared. I manage to get past the first layer. Deep into the menus of the automated response system there is a reminder that a person over 18 with government-issued ID must be present at the house during the repair call. And then, for the first time, the notice that there may be a charge for the service call. Wait, wait – I want to know more about this part. The automated system does not offer relevant details. The robot hangs up on me.
I ponder the situation and decide that I am offended. I call The Company’s main automated response number and select the one choice guaranteed to get a speedy response from a live person: Cancel. I cancel the repair appointment. The Company is relieved that I have not canceled the entire enterprise and instructs me to have a good day. I am relieved that my morning stretches before me, unimpeded.
There is an urgent email. The 1940 Census is Here!
You would think Elvis had returned to the building. Mind you, I have been interested in this development. Most of my Civil War veterans died before 1940, but their children and grandchildren are very entertaining and I thought I would look them up. I am prepared for this. I know the Enumeration Districts I want to browse! However, Great Expectations are born to be dashed this morning.
Lessee, 3.8 million images, divide by leventy, carry the 9 . . . it is going to be a long, long time before we get Michigan and Ohio and California on that list.
All the images are supposed to be up and running on the National Archives site. It takes several tries but I finally manage to order up the file for Antrim County, Michigan, ED 5-1. The images do not load. Well, I say to myself, let us try downloading. Ah. That requires completing the odious Captcha Challenge. I peer hopefully at the distorted words, and type veeerrrrry carefully. No luck. Try again. Oh that set is even more unreadable. Try the aural alternative without much hope at all, as that has never worked before. It doesn’t now, either. Maybe it is just me, but the aural alternative produces pure gibberish.
I had already tried to watch NARA’s Opening Event Live Webcast but I ended up with a 1940 Public Service Film instead. I suppose such things have a certain retro cachet for the Bright Young Set, but for me . . .
It is a warm spring afternoon at McCord Grade School in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, circa 1955. Miss Backstrom has arranged a treat for us. We are going to see an Educational and Inspiring Film, vintage 1939 or 1940.
We sit in seats worn smooth by many bottoms before our own, examining the inscrutable messages incised in the dark oak desktops by our parents and grandparents on other warm afternoons when the film was new.
Miss Backstrom makes a production of pulling the shades down over the tall windows with a a long wooden pole tipped with a metal hook. She is a tiny woman, and it is an impressive balancing act. Perhaps the pole is a peavey left over from the lumbering days. A useful tool for untangling logjams. Waste not want not.
The bottom panel of each window leans open slightly so that we can breathe. As the shades descend they flap gently in the warm breeze. The shades have acquired a mottled tobacco-colored patina. I have searched in vain for a crayon of just that color. As the shades unroll the room dims, and we descend into torpor, little fishes in a weedy lake. High, high above us globes of light hang from the ceiling on chains. Then those are extinguished. The film begins.
The announcer’s voice echoes and rumbles around the room, trailing strains of pompous music behind it. We . . . fall . . . asleep.
The phone rings. It is Rachel from Credit Card Services. Flames shoot from my eyes. The Cowboy runs into the dog room and hides under the bed.
◊♦◊
P.S. I wanted to trust that everyone would understand the reference to Rachel, really I did. However, I have discovered that Far Too Many Credulous People believe that Rachel the Robot calls people with credit problems. This is not true. Rachel the Robot is part of a scam. She is not calling from my credit card provider, nor yours either. She is not even a person. Her robotic self is merely a tool for terrifying people into providing information to the scammer. That is all.
◊♦◊
tootlepedal
May 1, 2012
Sadly I cannot share your pain as I have just won $500,000 in a lottery which I did not enter which seems very fortunate. Also I cannot see very well as I have blurred my vision by crying over a new program I bought which won’t work. If the people who invented automated calls and companies that you can’t contact and the people who devised the many phone and computer scams we are all subjected to could only get a proper, productive job which their ingenious intelligence would certainly allow them to, the world would be a better place. I was lying, I can share your pain.
Gerry
May 1, 2012
Pain shared does not go away but at least it is confirmation that I’m not the only one the universe is being mean to. The moment you announce the arrival of the $500,000 we will saddle up our flying pigs and take off to join the celebration. I will bring my famous pineapple casserole.
tootlepedal
May 1, 2012
That’s an offer I can’t refuse.
Heather
May 1, 2012
I think most can relate to your rant. Hope you felt better after typing and publishing your missive.
Gerry
May 1, 2012
I began to feel a whole lot better when I spent an hour on the banks of the Elk River taking pictures of The Stumps and the redwing blackbirds and the Cowboy sitting on The Swan. It was very peaceful.
P.j. grath
May 1, 2012
Oh, Gerry, I’m sorry to laugh so hard at your maddening misfortunes! Please forgive me! You do know how to write a good story, though, so take comfort in that. Robots! &#@&!!!!
Gerry
May 1, 2012
Not only do I forgive you but I am delighted with you. It was my secret hope that I would make someone laugh really hard. Unrestrained hilarity is the best – maybe even the only – defense against the insanity rampant in the world.
Karma
May 1, 2012
I don’t even answer my home telephone anymore. The people I wish to speak to know my cell phone number. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to keep the home phone, as it seems only robots ever call it.
Gerry
May 1, 2012
Everyone assumed I’d get rid of my landline when I got cable internet, but I like having a connection to the outside world when the electricity goes out. I started thinking about a play where one character says to another “Have your robot call my robot” but it depressed me so much that I gave up and went out for ice cream.
John Sala
May 1, 2012
Railing against the universe (or even its willing minions) helps lower one’s BP and reaffirms the factoid that many folks, supposedly in charge of the “world,” are dumber than your average tree stump. Another ride in my boat on a day that is beautiful is yours for scheduling!
Heading north again soon, Best to you,
John Sala
Gerry
May 1, 2012
Oh excellent day when a rant is cast forth into the universe and reels in a boat ride!
All this and Chris and Sonny are open for the season too.
See you soon John.
shoreacres
May 2, 2012
Rachel! I wondered where she’d gone to! I did get rid of my landline, but she’s a persistent critter and got my cell phone number.
But never mind that. I’d completely forgotten about those window shades at the grade school, and the long pole used to raise and lower them. I wonder what else I’ve forgotten?
Speaking of robots calling one another – have you heard the term “duologue”? Someone coined it, defined it as the opposite of dialogue and offered the perfect example: two tv sets turned on, facing one another.
Gerry
May 2, 2012
Duologue . . . I wonder if I could rig it so that Rachel and one of the tedious Answer Robots could sit facing each other for eternity. No. It’s too risky. What if they should manage to procreate?
Joss
May 2, 2012
This may sound smug but … I think I’m just lucky. Or else life is simpler here.
Gerry
May 2, 2012
I’ve been reading blogs from all over the world long enough to know that life is not simple anywhere. I think perhaps people are, on the whole, less cranky in some places. Perhaps. And I think you, personally, have a better character and disposition than mine! Maybe a little luck, too. 🙂
Dawn
May 2, 2012
I want to see the Cowboy sitting the a swan picture. And I hate robots too. Especially the kind that call when I’ve just sat down after a long day at work. But 7:15 a.m.? That’s not even legal…is it? Whatever repair you needed maybe you don’t need so much.
Gerry
May 2, 2012
In all fairness, I asked for the repair person to come out, so it was marginally acceptable to be called at that hour. In fact, had a real live person called me at that hour I would have been very glad. The repair has gone undone and we have soldiered on.
The photo of the Cowboy did not turn out particularly well, but it was fun to take. I’ll do a post about the park later today. Probably.
shoreacres
May 2, 2012
I think Rachel knows we’re on to her. I just got the same call – from Ann. 😉
Gerry
May 2, 2012
Is there no end to the perfidy?
flandrumhill
May 5, 2012
Gerry, I’m sure Alexander Graham Bell would roll over in his grave if he knew how his wonderful invention was being employed now. He tried to find innovative ways to connect people with one another, especially the deaf, and believed there was no greater work we could pursue than that which relieved suffering in others.
Like Pamela, I did laugh at your experiences. I have days like that too.
Gerry
May 5, 2012
You make a particularly good point which had not occurred to me–the one about Bell’s vision for his telephone.
sybiln
May 5, 2012
I think I’ll prank call to Amy-Lynn and pretend I’m a robot …
Gerry
May 5, 2012
Wait, wait – you just ratted yourself out.
flandrumhill
May 6, 2012
Gerry, my memory isn’t programmed to transfer from one technology platform to another so I probably would still fall for Sybil’s robocall prank.