Technology, Shmechnology

How many of you out there have had to call customer service? Right. Now how many of you have had to call Microsoft's customer service? Yup. Well, we all know that customer service, especially in the tech industry, is by and large outsourced to India. Or Pakistan. But that's not the point. The point is customer service and time. Did you know that these people have no idea what they are talking about. None. Absolutely no idea. They are dealing with an "if/then" set of scenarios that are listed on a grand help page in the sky. And this isn't just Microsoft, its all the damn customer service people. What happened to people wanting to learn something, becoming expert at it and then being there to help their fellow traveler down the oh-so-bumpy road of technology?

You're probably still stuck on the "if/then" scenario thing. Well, that basically means that if this happens then you do this. And on and on and on and on and on and on and on and... you get the point.

This is why when all else fails you are told: "OK, well, we are going to have to wipe the hard drive and reinstall the system software. I'll wait." WE? Who the hell are we? There is no WE in a hard drive wipe and system reinstall. There is only me. And it only happens at 3am and it is a very very very lonely experience. So thank you but no thank you. At no point should you ever be told to wipe the hard drive with the words "I'll wait" following. In fact at no point should you ever have to wipe the hard drive. That's the last resort answer in the "if/then" scenarios. And, just like a choose your own adventure novel, all scenarios except one will lead to that answer.

Getting back to the title of this post. Last I checked technology is supposed to be a help to us, not a hindrance. One would think, right? For example, first there was a piece of rock used to etch scratches into a wall leading to some guy cutting himself and realizing he could use the blood to make the same marks, only without so much force. He unfortunately died because of premature blood loss. But his friend saw what was happening while eating a pomegranate and thought, "wait, this is red I think I can do what he's doing without the unfortunate side effect of death." Well, jump time to a guy with the wherewithal to put said ink in a tube and make it so you could write with it - the birth of the pen - which lead to the ink being put on a stripe and being hit with keys to make a mark on a piece of paper - the birth of the typewriter - which then lead to the inkless machines we use today called computers. Perhaps a slightly simplified overview of the birth of computers, but a pretty sound one if you ask me. Nonetheless, each innovation was to make life easier. But at some point each innovation came with a learning curve. And each learning curve called for someone with expertise to teach or explain how the new technology worked. And each time there needed to be more and more expertise until some schmuck thought "hey, why train these people I'll write it all down and that way there'll be a record of how to do it." Actually, not a bad idea. But with the increasing refinements came increasing difficulty and suddenly in order to get a simple calculation of 4+5=9 you had to go through a room full of vacuum tubes and put a frickin' punch card into a slot and wait ten minutes. BUT IT DID THE CALCULATION, DAMN IT! And there was someone standing on the sideline with a book 6 inches thick explaining how to put said punch card in said slot to get said answer of 9.

If you ask me we should go back to the rock on the wall.

Well, we can't so we have the fun of Internet Explorer ceasing to connect to the internet. Now, this wouldn't really be a problem, normally. In fact I'm not the biggest fan of Internet Explorer. But certain programs like Norton Firewall or Norton Antivirus need to use it. Ah, here's where technology becomes schmechnology. And the irony has the "i" dotted. 3 hours on the phone to India and we found that The very program that was needing Internet Explorer to fix the problem was creating the problem it needed to fix in the first place. Huh? Yes. The Antivirus software was having a technical difficulty and asked me to connect to the internet to solve the problem. I did so with a, in my opinion, far superior browser, Netscape. I clicked on all the right links and, low-and-behold, I was told the next step would only work if using IE (Internet Explorer). So, like the dutiful computer user I am I clicked on the icon and got... nothing. Yup. That's why I called Microsoft. And 3 hours and a degree in computer science later I removed the Norton software from the computer and, magically, IE (as we now call it) worked!

"If/then." Remember that.

I didn't need to go through a registry reinstall of every .dll. I don't even know what that means. All I had to do was uninstall the program. COULDN'T HE HAVE TOLD ME THAT FIRST??!?!??!?!?

Apparently not.

So I lost a portion of my life that I'll never ever ever get back. At least I didn't have to wipe the hard drive and reinstall. Not like when I couldn't figure out why my DVDRW drive didn't work. Turns out I didn't have the right disks. But that didn’t stop the lady "helping me" from getting pissy and telling me the only way to solve the problem was to wipe and reinstall. To which I told her, in no uncertain terms to wipe and reinstall.

So, the lesson of the day. Technology doesn't save time. It just gives the appearance of saving time. Just count how many hours a day you wait for your computer to finish "thinking about something" or how long it takes for the ATM to give you your money or how long it takes for that damn door to open at the bank. You'll see then we're all better off using rocks.

Technorati Profile

control

Funny thing control. We all want it is some form or another. Actually, when you really think about it, no matter what you do at some point you must exact control over something. Your car, your dog, your friends alcohol abuse, your future, your career, your... you get the point. That is good control. When you take an action that leads to something being done for the benefit of your future.

Then there is bad control. I'm not going to list all the bad control, it may make you the unknown reader explode. But let's take a look at a couple specific examples of bad control.

1) The United States' view on other countries having the right to make decisions for themselves. Bad control.

2) The need for a "boy friend" to constantly put down his "girl friend" in order to maintain some semblance of power over her. I use quotation marks because it could be they are just friends, lovers, ex-lovers or gluttons for punishment that never let go because they can't forge out on their own to truly be real people. The symbiotic need to be pathetic overwhelms them and dictates their every move. Bad control on the aggressors part because he has to exert force in order to have a place in this world. Bad control on the submissive's part because she has to suck the life force of some poor schmuck in order to have meaning.

3) The need to only date people who are fucking crazy so that you can feel in a position of power thereby making yourself feel big while you attempt to make someone who is, again, fucking crazy more sane. It never happens. They stay crazy and in the process you become a little crazier yourself. Bad control on the "helpers" part because the "helpee" is useless and will siphon off all life force and leave the "helper" wondering why everyone he dates is a loon why he's so tired all the time.

So what do these have in common. They use control incorrectly. And they are stupid. Now, let's examine #2. WHY DOES THE STUPID ONE STAY AND TAKE SHIT FROM THE AGGRESSOR? And age old question. Mommy didn't breast feed. Daddy used the belt one too many times. She's possessed by a demon. Or worse she's possessed with the need to be told what to do at all times and cannot function without someone doing so. I have friends like this. In fact, being closely related to #3, I have ex-girlfriends like this. By I digress. At some point the symbiotic person needs to shut up and live their life. They will act out on occasion and give the appearance of taking steps toward a fruitful and productive life, but they are lying to themselves and others. They are liars. Inevitably they come crawling back to be beaten down one more time for old time's sake. They use sex as a ploy to pull in the all too willing emotional assailant. Then a day or two go by and the guy who thought he had written the whole fucked relationship off wonders why he is on the phone at 1 in the morning handling the girl on the same issue he's handled her on 6,000,000 times before. Statements like, "you need to stop talking now" and "shut up" and "You're not listening" and "yes I do care about you" and "I'm trying to help, do you want me to help or not?" come flowing out like the run-off from a receding glacier.

This form of control is cyclical. They are embroiled in the relationship they cease the relationship they are embroiled in the relationship they cease the relationship - on and on and on ad infinitum.

How do you stop it? A gun. While this may seem a bit extreme or a bad sarcastic joke it does have some root in reality. A gun. Simple tool to put something in its place. Realistically it should be a murder suicide because neither one of these individuals is worth the air they breathe. But let's not look at jail as a happy alternative to the harsh realities of living the daily grind. Metaphorically, the gun is a symbol of finality. Pull out the "gun" and shoot the other person. I don't care how good the fuck or how much they say they love you and will be the only ones to ever love you or if they fuck good IT DOESN"T MATTER. Put the GOD DAMNED METAPHOR BACK IN YOUR PANTS AND HAVE THE BALLS TO STOP CALLING THE BITCH WHO IN THE END IS ONLY LOOKING TO PULL YOU AROUND BY YOUR PENIS AND MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE. Or guy - I've realized I've been very one sided here and not at all PC. Sorry to my copious female readers. SHE IS SUCKING YOUR WILL TO LIVE AND YOU ARE WONDERING WHY YOU KEEP GOING THERE. "Is it love? It must be love." It's not love. And if you're worried your biological clock is ticking away and you have to find someone to settle down with... THIS IS NOT THE ONE! Or she is and you are destined to live a miserable life of trying to tell her what to do and her resenting you for it.

And you thought this was going to be some kind of political statement.

Anyhow, back to the gun. It is a metaphor. It is taking the presents she gave you and throwing them away. It is burning the pictures of her that you keep locked away in your photo albums of yesteryear. It is saying once and for all, with great firmness, I am done and not picking up the phone to call again because this time is going to be different. This time is not going to be different. This time is never different. This time is the same. Time and time again unless YOU do something to change it. The best answer is to walk away and don't look back. Because if you look back you become a salt lick.

The point was control.

You want to have good control that leads you to a better life with cool people who love you and want to see you succeed.

The bad control is a quick ride down the spiral of stupidity and pain that leaves you in a world of hurt.

The choice - as always - is yours. Choose wisely and don't be blinded by the prospect of a good blow job or a screaming orgasm. We all know that sex is better after a fight. But why fight in order to have good sex? I think someone told me once that the best sex they had was when they were fully invested in it, not trying to nail the girl in to the wall.

Nope. Not going to be the best for you in the end. And, you'll get more sleep 'cause you won't be up until 2 am talking yourself off the ledge of sanity.

OK. I'm done. And I hope to God somewhere in this universe someone is hanging up the phone and firing their metaphoric gun.

Hello. Nice to meet you.

So, here we are. I just have to ask... is anyone actually reading this? If so, do me one favor... e-mail me and let me know.

adam@donshik.com

That's all for now.

adam

2 days after the day

Ah, birthdays. The one day of the year that I reflect on all I haven't accomplished. Most normal people do this on days like New Years or Christmas or Yom Kippur, but not birthdays. Usually, birthdays are a time to reflect on all the good things that have happened in the last year. It is a time to look at how one has aged, much like a fine wine. But not for me.

I look at birthdays as a marker, much like the rings of trees that tell us all the natural disasters and freak weather patterns through the years. Birthdays are, for lack of a better term, shitty. They are not a celebration. No, they are not. They are a cold slap in the face. A harsh jolt of reality sending shivers down your spin at the realization of all you have not accomplished and all that you are missing in your life.

Dramatic, huh? That's why I'm an actor.

I say this about birthdays because, as stated in an earlier post, I feel that reflection on one's past only leads to seeing what's missing and that can only lead to no good. So what's missing? Not here. Not now. Although no one really reads this thing so what could it hurt? But still no.

Let's just leave it at in a lonely world it is important to surround yourself with people who care. Without them you might find everything moving smoothly for a while. You might find that you're content. But the moment things fall to shit or you get ill those people who call themselves your friend but are not will abandon you and leave you to fend for yourself. So, those people you strive to get to know to make your career better or help you get a little further on the corporate ladder aren't going to be there in the times of need.

This year I got a little party. A small group of friends took me to dinner and then an even smaller group went out to bumble fuck and drove go carts. It was fun. I have not been the best at doing the birthday thing for my friends because of my proclivity toward running and hiding when they come about so I asked my friends why they threw a party for me. They said because it was me. Simply because it was me. The best thing anyone has ever said to me. Period. That' s how you know that no matter where the day takes you and no matter what you do, true friends are hard to come by, but when you get them hold on. You'll know them because they don't ask for anything in return when they give something. They don't make you feel like shit for being you. And, most importantly they have your back. Sure they can be dicks and say stupid things, everyone can. But will everyone be there when you're at your worst?

Something to think about.

So, back to the original point. Birthdays. They suck, that's a given. But maybe they suck so you can see what good might be just outside your field of vision.

Countdown to 32

Well, where to begin? Today is June 9. Friday. 3 days before I turn 32. Or 65. Again, depending on who you ask or in what frame of mind you catch me in. My big joke is that I am a 65 year old Jew having a nervous breakdown trapped in a ___ year old's body and have been since I was 13 when I had my mid-life crisis and I am now living on borrowed time. Next stop: Chabad House!

Not really funny when you think about it. I was at dinner with my family recently (my parents came to visit) and I made that little joke. My aunt, without missing a beat, chimed in that she was an 18 year old trapped in a 60 year old's body. And, truth be told, she is. At that moment I realized that I had missed a very large part of my life playing "adult" to everyone I have ever known. I was never a teenager and this woman has maintained that state of mind almost her entire life. Now, I don't mean that she is immature or acts like a post-pubescent nihilist. No. She has her moments, but in all she's quite in control of who she is and how she wants to live her life. You have to admire that about her. I don't think I've taken the steps to do so. Why? Don’t know. Actually, that's a lie. I do know, but I don't think I'm going to divulge that here. At least not yet. I can say this though, my world has been one of control. And distance is the best form of control. Cold, a bit. Lonely, at times. But no one's gonna hurt me. Mark my words. No one. That's a lie, it never works.

But back to the point, if there ever was one. 32 in 3 days. My mother and father were both board certified medical doctors by the time they were 30. My brother was working full time with a wife and 2 children by the time he was 30. Any mathematician worth his salt has made a major discovery in his chosen field before he was 30. Hell, Jesus was on his way to be lionized as the king of men by the time he was 30. So what have I accomplished? Good question. But, in the end, it's not about the outward expression of ones life, it's about what he has accomplished for himself. Right? In a perfect world yes. To the repressed middle class that cares about the greenness of their lawns and the annual paycheck with benefits being higher than the neighbors it matter only what one can touch, what one can see. To quote the play I'm in "you are possessed by the tangible, that's your Dybuuk." But this isn't a diatribe on the middle class. Don't worry, that's coming.

3 days to 32. I have no plans. My friends keep asking me what we're going to do. I have no answer. In fact I wouldn't even know where to start with planning. I have some ideas of what I'd like to do, but who really has time to do the things they say they want to do for themselves? I'm pretty sure I'll be working late and rehearsing scenes on my birthday. Hopefully, I'll get a phone call or two from a couple of my friends and call it a day. I don't mean to sound all depressive or weak or pathetic or the lot. In fact I feel none of those. Controlling one's life to be ever-so-slightly-distant-yet-with-the-appearancy-of-being-warm takes a lot of energy. Ok, fine I'm not that, but sounds fun doesn't it.

Well, here's where I sign off for the night wondering a) if this has made any sense, b) if I come across as a pathetic self-hater (which I am not, damn it!) and, most importantly, c) wondering if anyone even reads this. Now off to feed my neglected cats.

Oh, before I go something mildly poignant: My 30 birthday was spent at a friend's bachelor party in a city I didn't know surrounded by people I didn't know. I drank too much and pretty much ruined any chance I'd have to run for public office. For my 31st birthday a dear friend took up a collection from classmates of mine to send me to a city I kinda know to be with a girl I had only met 2 weeks before at a different friend's wedding - we had hit it off immediately and there was a strong connection. So 32? What's in store? Love? Beauty? A new beginning? Fortune? Fame? The whole package? The real thing? I'll keep you posted.

Credit Cards

This is going to be a short one. Why? Because I just don't feel like writing a lot.

So here's the thing. I lost my wallet today. Shitty, yes. What drives me crazy is the pseudo customer service people who take their sweet-ass time to read asinine disclaimers to cover the company's ass. One particular card company had a man who was obviously retarded - I got nothing against equal opportunity employment except when it wastes my time. He asked me "where was the card stolen?" I said "it fell out of my pocket between this street and that street." To which he responded, "where was your card stolen?" Unbelievable. Then he asked "Who stole your card?" Right. Correct me if I'm wrong here, but if I knew who stole my card it wouldn't be stolen. If I knew who stole my card I'd still be kicking their ass right now, 4 hours later. It's amazing what can happen when synapses don't quite fire properly. And it's amazing that these are the people in control of your credit cards and whether or not they get canceled. And it is even more amazing that these people have access to your personal information. That may be the scariest of all. I really hope there is some kind of background check on these people and not just an open call for work on Craig's list. "Hey, need a job? Come work for such and such credit card company!"

Oy.

Turns out the wallet was picked up by a bunch of punk kids who called in an order to a local sushi restaurant and had it delivered to a bench outside a church down the street from the restaurant. How do I know this? Because I went to said sushi restaurant to ask if they had any recollection of the asshole who stole my wallet and they showed me the delivery order and the address. Now, I'm no tough guy, but I made my way over to that church to kick someone's ass. Too bad I was an hour and a half late. for the ass whooping. Luck them. I don't know what I would have done if they were sitting there munching on tuna rolls and miso soup.

Well, that's it for now. I'm going to call Coach and request they make a wallet with a chain on it. I doubt that will go over well, but, hey its worth a try. There are a lot of really rich kids who think they're all that and a bag of chips who'd definitely go for the quality craftsmanship of fine leather work with the old school charm of the Hell's Angels.

Crap. Now I have to wait a week for a new ATM card. How much does that suck?