Living as an untidy and disorganised slob may have short term advantages, but that doesn't make life devoid of longer term annoyances. Today I tried to start tidying my Hotmail account. It is generally used as a dumping ground for unread ‘website notifications’ (‘Mandy just sent you a Hi Five’ it says. Did she? Well Mandy can sod off!) and all the unread marketing junk (‘Thanks for buying your groceries at Tesco sir. Can I take your email address?’, they ask. ‘Yeah sure’ I think to myself, ‘have my Hotmail account then you can stick it with the rest of the crap I’ll never open’).
Rather disconcertingly, I have tallied up 1114 unread emails of the stuff. I can’t just click the option to clear out the lot in one large sweep, because rather stupidly, I also have some necessary mails which I need to keep (like account log in details, personal messages and other attachments that I might require one day - but when it comes to a time that I actually do need them, probably won’t have a clue where I left them anyway).
Having to sort through 1114 mails feels like one hell of a daunting task. I shall probably break the work up, and try to tackle a target of X amount of emails per day. But in the back of my mind, I’ll always be acutely aware that for every day that passes, even more of the buggers are flying into in my inbox.
If the Greek Gods were around in these modern times, Sysyphus wouldn’t be condemned to spend eternity rolling a boulder up an endless mountain. I reckon he’d be assigned the task of clearing out my Hotmail account. At least until some humanitarian crusade insisted on returning his rock back to him.
Sun 11th Jan 2009
If Dick Turpin were alive today, he probably wouldn’t find the modern day transport system too fruitful. How’s he gonna hold up a car? Cars are too fast nowadays. If a driver saw a man in the middle of the road holding a pistol, he’d probably stick his foot down. And what about technological developments like CCTV? Let’s be honest, it’s not going to take too long before he’s either caught out in his antics or killed. So where in the world would he obtain his ill-gotten lucre?
I reckon he’d be best off opening a branch of the computer retail franchise, PC World.
Let me explain. I am typing this entry on a brand new Advent Net Book. I had been considering getting one for quite some time but kept getting daunted by all the different models, operating systems and prices and I’ve always intimidated by technology. For instance, I recently advised my mom (who is even worse with technology than me), in a slightly condescending and impatient manner, that it is perfectly fine, you’re supposed to click OK on a ‘Windows Update’. Ten minutes later, she phoned me to tell me her internet was broke. I went over and spent hours uninstalling and reinstalling software, but still couldn’t get the thing to work. After finally admitting defeat, we called a computer expert, who sorted the problem in minutes. By turning the wireless router on and off again. Things like this do not fill me with confidence in my abilities.
Being the only person without a non-work-related access to the internet was starting to make me feel a bit Amish so yesterday I finally bit the bullet and bought one.
I went to evil PC World and saw a decent looking model, which stood out because it had its own plinth (it had won awards apparently), boasting a sale price of £229.99. This was perfect, because I had set myself a budget of £300 and could now also get a case for the Net Book, and I also remembered I needed a cheap MP3 player for the gym – I could buy both and still be within my budget! Oh happy days!
I picked up my peripheral bits, before looking for a sales assistant and taking it to ask about the computer. “Excuse me” I said, “Do you have any of these in stock?” The sales assistant wondered off to have a check for me before returning to announce that they did indeed. I told him I’d like to buy it, no questions asked.
“Good choice sir.” He said, “We also have a special offer on at the moment. When people buy any Net Books or laptops, we offer them a chance to buy Microsoft Office and Norton Virus Protection CDs at half the cost.
He wasn’t going to get me that easily. “No thanks,” I said. I might be a technophobe, but even I knew that Net Books are so compact they don’t have a disc drive. “Well don’t let that worry you”, he replied, “we’ll install it for you here if you like – completely free of charge”.
“Honestly,” I maintained, “I only want it for bit of Word processing to put on the internet and there’s already one on the computer. I don’t need Microsoft Office.”
“Ah, but that’s even more reason to take advantage of our offer. These machines only got Microsoft Works on there and it’s not always compatible with certain programs. And if you’re going on the internet, you’re gonna need virus protection”.
In the end, I relented. It wouldn’t be until later that I’d learn about how rare the compatibility issues of Microsoft Works really were. Or that Norton are the McDonalds of the virus protection world, whose programs lives on as a ghost in your hard drive when its 12 month protection expires, even after you’ve uninstalled it, taking up precious memory space and continually annoying you with pop-ups that asked for your credit card details. At the time, I just what thought ‘the hell’. It’ll only push me a bit over my budget and maybe what he is saying might actually be true.
It wasn’t until he rang up the items at the till, before he informed me that it would take them two hours to install the software and I should take my items and come back later.
Two hours?! Remembering I was on a retail park, placed at Junction 10 on the M6, how the hell was I supposed to keep myself occupied for two hours??
Wishing I hadn’t have bothered and with no-where to go, I trudged off with my other items to spend most of my time sitting in my car feeling irritated and bored. To help pass the time, I took my other purchases from the bag. Reading the cardboard box of the MP3 player through boredom, I had now noticed had a bit of superficial damage at the bottom of the box. On the plus side, it also informed me the player had an unanticipated Dictaphone feature.
After the time had passed, I retrieved my receipt from my pocket and set off to make my collection from PC World. But whilst glancing at the small bit of printed paper, I discovered that they’d actually charged me £279.99 for the computer. ‘Typical’, I thought, and immediately searched for the assistant who’d made the sale to sort this discrepancy out.
“Look at this! The machine I bought was supposed to be £229. But you’ve charged me £279!” I raged when I found him.
He looked at the receipt then he looked at me. “No, you see, that one for sale at £229, it’s a different model.” He replied with gormless sincerity.
“Yes I know. But that’s the computer I asked for!”
“Really?”, he asked, “Well it definitely wasn’t the one you pointed at”.
Wasn’t the one I pointed at?? Now unless I had suddenly suffered an unremembered attack of dizzying vertigo due to the towering size of the plinth used to herald this single computer bargain, it would have been a true achievement to have managed to point in the completely wrong direction. To prove the point, I led him to the computer I’d requested to show him. He looked at the plinth and looked at the purchase in my hand.
“Yes, I see” he assessed, “but the one that you’ve got is better than the one there.”
By now my irritation was starting to show. “That’s hardly the point! Surely a consumer has a right to purchase the goods that he’s actually asked for, rather than just being given a random item from the store room? I’d like to return this immediately and get what I’ve asked for.” I said.
He gave me a rather confused look, before replying, “We can’t possible return that laptop now!”
“Why not?”
“Well, you’ve already started installing programs on it, haven’t you?”
I couldn’t believe it! I hadn’t even particularly wanted his sodding programs and had only agreed to buy them out of English politeness. Requesting an address, I assured him I’d be writing a very stern letter of complaint. To emphasise the point, I wondered off to make my threat look as real as possible by taking photographs of the sale display, which he’d naturally assume I’d use as evidence of their conning ways.
Obviously, since I have already confessed to using the machine to write this, you can already tell I’ve voluntarily invalidated my consumer rights of return. Even so, I bet he was bricking it when he saw me with that cameraphone. I brandished it like I was Dick Turpin.
But incredibly, this isn’t even the oddest part of my PC World shopping experience. Today I have been testing my brand new MP3 player. When I turned it on for the first time, I discovered there was already a file on it. It felt safe to assume this was probably just some ditty the manufacturers put on there for demonstration purposes, but it seemed a little intriguing that it was stored in a folder which housed voice recordings. Upon pressing play, I listened to a 5 or 6 second clip of some rustling, then a woman talking with a strong Black Country accent.
Don’t get me wrong. I'm not implying that PC World have ever been unprofessional enough to put a returned product back on the shelf for resale. That’d be the last thing from my mind. Who am I to start making such libelous accusations?
I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this strange bit of audio. Maybe the international electrical giant Sony, have relocated their product development to Walsall. Or it is perhaps coincidence that the person who records feature demonstrations on behalf of Sony, has a similar accent to the geographical location of that particular PC World branch?
In order to find justice, I need to commence plotting an ingenious retribution against PC World for their dubious practices. I will not rest until every branch has closed! In fact I should begin to type my plot immediately. Which indeed, I would do. But I’ve already had this thing on for an hour, and now the damn battery isn’t going last long enough. I’m sure the plinth said there was a three and a half hour life in these things.
Footnote To Self:-
In future, remember that pasting a big photo of their hot new offer on my page looks like a bit like I’m advertising PC World to the casual browser. This probably isn't the best way to secure their demise.
I reckon he’d be best off opening a branch of the computer retail franchise, PC World.
Let me explain. I am typing this entry on a brand new Advent Net Book. I had been considering getting one for quite some time but kept getting daunted by all the different models, operating systems and prices and I’ve always intimidated by technology. For instance, I recently advised my mom (who is even worse with technology than me), in a slightly condescending and impatient manner, that it is perfectly fine, you’re supposed to click OK on a ‘Windows Update’. Ten minutes later, she phoned me to tell me her internet was broke. I went over and spent hours uninstalling and reinstalling software, but still couldn’t get the thing to work. After finally admitting defeat, we called a computer expert, who sorted the problem in minutes. By turning the wireless router on and off again. Things like this do not fill me with confidence in my abilities.
Being the only person without a non-work-related access to the internet was starting to make me feel a bit Amish so yesterday I finally bit the bullet and bought one.
I went to evil PC World and saw a decent looking model, which stood out because it had its own plinth (it had won awards apparently), boasting a sale price of £229.99. This was perfect, because I had set myself a budget of £300 and could now also get a case for the Net Book, and I also remembered I needed a cheap MP3 player for the gym – I could buy both and still be within my budget! Oh happy days!
I picked up my peripheral bits, before looking for a sales assistant and taking it to ask about the computer. “Excuse me” I said, “Do you have any of these in stock?” The sales assistant wondered off to have a check for me before returning to announce that they did indeed. I told him I’d like to buy it, no questions asked.
“Good choice sir.” He said, “We also have a special offer on at the moment. When people buy any Net Books or laptops, we offer them a chance to buy Microsoft Office and Norton Virus Protection CDs at half the cost.
He wasn’t going to get me that easily. “No thanks,” I said. I might be a technophobe, but even I knew that Net Books are so compact they don’t have a disc drive. “Well don’t let that worry you”, he replied, “we’ll install it for you here if you like – completely free of charge”.
“Honestly,” I maintained, “I only want it for bit of Word processing to put on the internet and there’s already one on the computer. I don’t need Microsoft Office.”
“Ah, but that’s even more reason to take advantage of our offer. These machines only got Microsoft Works on there and it’s not always compatible with certain programs. And if you’re going on the internet, you’re gonna need virus protection”.
In the end, I relented. It wouldn’t be until later that I’d learn about how rare the compatibility issues of Microsoft Works really were. Or that Norton are the McDonalds of the virus protection world, whose programs lives on as a ghost in your hard drive when its 12 month protection expires, even after you’ve uninstalled it, taking up precious memory space and continually annoying you with pop-ups that asked for your credit card details. At the time, I just what thought ‘the hell’. It’ll only push me a bit over my budget and maybe what he is saying might actually be true.
It wasn’t until he rang up the items at the till, before he informed me that it would take them two hours to install the software and I should take my items and come back later.
Two hours?! Remembering I was on a retail park, placed at Junction 10 on the M6, how the hell was I supposed to keep myself occupied for two hours??
Wishing I hadn’t have bothered and with no-where to go, I trudged off with my other items to spend most of my time sitting in my car feeling irritated and bored. To help pass the time, I took my other purchases from the bag. Reading the cardboard box of the MP3 player through boredom, I had now noticed had a bit of superficial damage at the bottom of the box. On the plus side, it also informed me the player had an unanticipated Dictaphone feature.
After the time had passed, I retrieved my receipt from my pocket and set off to make my collection from PC World. But whilst glancing at the small bit of printed paper, I discovered that they’d actually charged me £279.99 for the computer. ‘Typical’, I thought, and immediately searched for the assistant who’d made the sale to sort this discrepancy out.
“Look at this! The machine I bought was supposed to be £229. But you’ve charged me £279!” I raged when I found him.
He looked at the receipt then he looked at me. “No, you see, that one for sale at £229, it’s a different model.” He replied with gormless sincerity.
“Yes I know. But that’s the computer I asked for!”
“Really?”, he asked, “Well it definitely wasn’t the one you pointed at”.
Wasn’t the one I pointed at?? Now unless I had suddenly suffered an unremembered attack of dizzying vertigo due to the towering size of the plinth used to herald this single computer bargain, it would have been a true achievement to have managed to point in the completely wrong direction. To prove the point, I led him to the computer I’d requested to show him. He looked at the plinth and looked at the purchase in my hand.
“Yes, I see” he assessed, “but the one that you’ve got is better than the one there.”
By now my irritation was starting to show. “That’s hardly the point! Surely a consumer has a right to purchase the goods that he’s actually asked for, rather than just being given a random item from the store room? I’d like to return this immediately and get what I’ve asked for.” I said.
He gave me a rather confused look, before replying, “We can’t possible return that laptop now!”
“Why not?”
“Well, you’ve already started installing programs on it, haven’t you?”
I couldn’t believe it! I hadn’t even particularly wanted his sodding programs and had only agreed to buy them out of English politeness. Requesting an address, I assured him I’d be writing a very stern letter of complaint. To emphasise the point, I wondered off to make my threat look as real as possible by taking photographs of the sale display, which he’d naturally assume I’d use as evidence of their conning ways.
Obviously, since I have already confessed to using the machine to write this, you can already tell I’ve voluntarily invalidated my consumer rights of return. Even so, I bet he was bricking it when he saw me with that cameraphone. I brandished it like I was Dick Turpin.
But incredibly, this isn’t even the oddest part of my PC World shopping experience. Today I have been testing my brand new MP3 player. When I turned it on for the first time, I discovered there was already a file on it. It felt safe to assume this was probably just some ditty the manufacturers put on there for demonstration purposes, but it seemed a little intriguing that it was stored in a folder which housed voice recordings. Upon pressing play, I listened to a 5 or 6 second clip of some rustling, then a woman talking with a strong Black Country accent.
Don’t get me wrong. I'm not implying that PC World have ever been unprofessional enough to put a returned product back on the shelf for resale. That’d be the last thing from my mind. Who am I to start making such libelous accusations?
I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this strange bit of audio. Maybe the international electrical giant Sony, have relocated their product development to Walsall. Or it is perhaps coincidence that the person who records feature demonstrations on behalf of Sony, has a similar accent to the geographical location of that particular PC World branch?
In order to find justice, I need to commence plotting an ingenious retribution against PC World for their dubious practices. I will not rest until every branch has closed! In fact I should begin to type my plot immediately. Which indeed, I would do. But I’ve already had this thing on for an hour, and now the damn battery isn’t going last long enough. I’m sure the plinth said there was a three and a half hour life in these things.
Footnote To Self:-
In future, remember that pasting a big photo of their hot new offer on my page looks like a bit like I’m advertising PC World to the casual browser. This probably isn't the best way to secure their demise.
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