A cautionary tale
I should have known better.
For months, my cellphone gave me the same message every morning.
“Update failed. Unable to locate server. Try again?”
I touch “update later,” then it asks me to re-enter my password. The next day, the same thing. And the next day…and so on.
I ignored this little glitch for a long time. Except for the glitch, the phone worked fine. Do I really need an update to version 17.5? How much better can that be, anyway? A few bug fixes, maybe a tweak here and there.
Google offered some troubleshooting tips. Try this. Or this. Sometimes this helps. I clicked “Support” on my phone’s website. I looked over the FAQ’s, followed the step-by-step instructions, perused related issues, etc. A virtual chatbot asked me to choose from one of the topics below. None of those topics had anything to do with my phone’s problem.
That’s enough. I set up a virtual appointment with a support agent. He remotely accessed my phone, and I followed his instructions. After each failed attempt I became more discouraged. Finally, he suggested I make an in-person appointment to see a tech support person at the Genius Bar.
Now I’m all in.
I hadn’t been to the Mall of America in five years—not since the before times. I knew the store was on the 1st level. Then I turned to the right and started walking. I found the store after circumnavigating the largest mall in the world. An associate asked me to try to update the phone. When that failed, he gave it a go. After several attempts, his manager came by. He took a crack at it. Nope. No chance. In fact, things just got worse.
He handed the phone back. The screen was still on, frozen, and it wouldn’t turn off.
Time of death, 7:14 p.m.
“Do you have insurance on this phone?” Well, yes, I said. He told me to file a claim and get a new phone. It took maybe 10-15 minutes. I walked out with my dead cellphone.
They told me a replacement phone (refurbished, actually) would arrive the next day. Naturally, Thursday came and went with no sign of a phone. I moved my base of operations downstairs. The delivery person needed me to sign for it, and our doorbell hadn’t worked in years. Emails kept me busy. Friday came and went. Then, Saturday. Still nothing.
I picked up my wife’s phone to get some answers ASAP. It turns out the phone was in Birmingham, Alabama. Nobody could tell me why.
Now, you might be thinking, this is not that big of a deal. You’ve got email, right? So, use it and stay connected. That new phone will be along any time.
That’s adorable.
Because here’s the thing. If you really need somebody to see your email, they never will. Nobody—and I mean nobody—reads email. Email is a historical record that we’re all required to use in our work, but nobody ever looks at until something goes wrong.
Try this—tell a friend you need help with a project. Then tell the friend you’ll send an email with all the details.
Now, wait for the look. The blank stare. The frown. Email? Really? (Eyes roll.)
Yes, you say. But remember to ask which email you should use. Is it that work email, your old college email, your joint email or that cute AOL address you had back in high school?
Also, remind your friend to check their spam or junk email if he doesn’t see it. And then ask if you should copy anybody else at home, just in case. You get the idea.
Time dragged on. I felt cut off. Isolated. Shut out of modern society. I fidgeted with my hands, like I was trying to quit smoking.
Sunday.
Get hold of yourself, for crying out loud. This isn’t Survivor or Naked and Afraid. It’s just a silly phone.
Monday. This had to be the day. Yes! Sure enough, at just after 12 noon, it arrived at my door. Inside the box was a small leaflet with instructions, a return label and a box. Without delay, I powered up the phone and followed the on-screen instructions.
Things went south almost immediately.
“To verify your identity, we’ll send you a code to your previous device. Please provide the code below.”
But my previous device is dead!
“Try another way? We just sent a code to another device in your network. Please enter the code here.” Huh?
“We just sent a code to your recovery contact.” Who?
“Please provide your passcode.”
“Have you forgotten your passcode? Try entering your PIN.”
“Sorry, that PIN is not recognized. Do you need to reset your PIN?”
“You have two-factor authorization. We just sent a code to your previous device. Try another way?”
“Do you need more time?”
Finally, the taunting stopped. Just one final insult.
“You have exceeded the number of allowable attempts. Your phone is now in activation lockdown. It can take up to 48 hours or more to reset your phone. Support is unable to unlock your phone.”
The next day I brought the phone to the carrier’s retail store. A young associate smiled and sat down across from me. In 7 minutes, my phone was working normally. My hellish, humbling experience was over.
Back to real life.
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