Phoney Baloney

About five years ago, our car got a rock to the windshield and Carmen called an auto glass place to get it replaced. On the appointed day she took the car in to have it done. They pulled the cracked windshield, crushed it and threw it into the dumpster. Only then did they discover that they had ordered the wrong replacement. This, of course, required them to provide alternate transportation until the windshield was replaced.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in August of ought eighteen, Carmen and I were planning our Thanksgiving week getaway to St. Augustine, where we could relax near the beach and see our gaggle of friends that live nearby. In the throes of this planning, it occurred to us that a) we're not getting any younger; b) we have no children to comfort us in our golden years and c) most of our closest friends live in northeast Florida. We began working toward buying a condo in Jacksonville (that's an extreme capsulization of the real range of options we considered before we narrowed them down to a 'condo in Jacksonville') which included a four-day trip down in September to look at properties, and Carmen's quick flight down in October to see in person what finally became our condo.

It came to pass in those days that we closed the deal in mid-November, which prompted us to rent a 12 foot truck in which to carry a load down on the way to our St. Augustine getaway. They didn't have a 12' in stock, so we got a 16' at the same price. We loaded it about half full of stuff we wouldn't need during the months following our return to Nashville. I drove it down here, and we unloaded it ourselves before we went on to our vacay.

By the time our vacay was coming to a close, we began to realize that there were things that needed to be done here after she needed to return to work in Nashville. We decided that I would stay here and show our electrician friend what all needed to be done, greet the painter and explain the job to him so he could work up a quote, install the new internet-connected thermostat, install the new internet-connected security system, and assemble several pieces of  Ikea furniture in my spare time. These things I did, and gladly, before renting a car to drive back to Nashville.

There was, of course, a fly in the ointment, otherwise why would I be writing all of this, right?

The laptop computer I am using now, I only use when I want to write something on a real keyboard, or print something. Otherwise, I use my Kindle Fire. It's smaller, faster, way less cumbersome. I did not bring my laptop on vacation. So after I finished with the electrician, the painter and the thermostat, I pulled out the Ring security system. I found the instruction booklet. Step 1 - plug it in. Done. Step 2 - synch your phone with the system: a) download the Ring app from Google Play. Well, the Kindle Fire will not accept apps from Google Play, period. I know this because I called Amazon tech support and they assured me that this was the case. In addition, the only way to activate the system is to download the Ring app from Google Play. I know this because I called Ring tech support and they assured me that this was the case. They asked if I had a computer other than my Fire. Yes, in Tennessee. That was no help. I puzzled and puzzed 'til my puzzler was sore, and finally came to the conclusion that the cheapest and fastest way to solve this was to buy a $45.00 smart phone. I walked to Walgreen's and then to CVS on a fine Sunday morning, and came home with an LG Phoenix 3 smart-ass phone. I wrangled with AT&T to get my prepaid service going - another $45.00 - and within seconds had downloaded the app. Good to go, at last! And now I had a fancy new 904 area code phone number, and a smarty pants phone like the big kids have! I activated the system, set up all of the sensors, rented a car and drove back to Nashville.

Fast forward to January. Two days after my birthday, I drove a 24' truck packed tight from front to back with most of the rest of our stuff (loaded by professional loaders!) and two kitties in carriers on the seat beside me. On Tuesday the 15th, I became a resident of Jacksonville. Carmen drove down with the dog in her car. Professional unloaders brought everything in, most of it to the right places, and a few days later Carmen went back to Nashville. She is still there as I write this, and we four mammals miss her bunches!

Not long afterward, Carmen had finally had it up to here (picture my hand hovering somewhere around my nose) with her old smart phone. She pow-wowed with the tech folks at her church, and they decided to order two new phones from Google fi, because adding me to her plan cost less than keeping my prepaid AT&T plan. And I could keep my fancy 904 number, which was good because I have given that number as my primary contact number to every entity with which I deal. Days and weeks went by, watching for the phones to be delivered. Finally, the office administrator at her previous church in Pennsylvania called to tell Carmen that a package had arrived for her from Google. What??? Carmen called the internet technology behemoth to straighten things out. There was an old Pennsylvania billing address connected to her account, so their brilliant computers disregarded the shipping address on the order, and sent the phones to Pennsylvania. A whole lot of rigamarole ensued, Pennsylvania shipped the phones to Nashville, and all was once again right with the world. RIGHT!

So another tech pow-wow occurred to set up the new phones. They called me with questions about my AT&T account so they could close it. I, of course, had already prepaid March by then, but these things have to be done when all of the parties are free to do them, so, whatever. I spent hours on the internet (on my Kindle) and on the phone to AT&T, and finally got them all of the info they needed to close that account so that the fancy 904 number could be given to the new phone. Great. But Google, upon realizing their shipping malfunction, had refunded the money paid for the phones. "No problem. Just send back those phones, and order another round." That was the internet technology behemoth's best solution to this situation. "Can't we just keep these and pay for them again?" "No, because those phones have now been reported as 'lost or stolen' and we can't undo that." "You can;t??!!" "No"

So, until the new new phones arrive and are set up, and mine comes to me somehow, my fancy 904 number is in limbo, and I'm back to my $10.00 Tracfone flip phone. And that, my friends is the end of the phoney baloney story for now.