FREE SHOTS: Dragged :kicking and screaming into the late 20th century
It took quite some time and those who know me probably will be surprised to find out that I’ve been dragged, kicking and screaming, into at least the late 20th century, technologically speaking.
Yes, it’s true. I’ve replaced my old slider cellphone. Old fashioned? Well, it’s no flip phone, I’ll grant you — I’m looking at you, Don Shoopman — but admittedly a little out of date. (How do you see anything on that little screen, the lady working security at the LSU football game I’m covering asks at one point … Answer: Who needs a big screen when all it’s used for is texting and making calls?).
The replacement? GASP! A SMART PHONE.
Now, in spite of what my 20-year-old daughter thinks, I’m not a dinosaur when it comes to electronics. I like gadgets. I like fancy new electronic equipment. I just haven’t seen the need to replace what I fondly referred to as my “Dumb Phone” with a smart one.
I’ve seen how addictive they can be. Anywhere you go these days people are staring at their 5- or 6-inch screens as they drive their cars around, or walk around the grocery store, or instead of talking to the people sitting at the restaurant table with them.
On top of which, I am not on Facebook, I don’t Tweeter or Snapgram or Instachat or any of the other wonderful social media of the day. (Yes, I know this makes me terribly old, as again, my daughter and loving wife would say — and hey, kid, get off my lawn.)
That hasn’t made the transition to my fabulous “new” iPhone 6 any less adventurous.
It actually started out as a transition to my wife’s old iPhone 5 after that device didn’t have enough power for her telephonic and electronic needs.
So when she opted to upgrade to a “new” (read: refurbished) iPhone 8 (now that’s a big screen), it seemed a good idea to just electronically wipe her old phone clean and let me switch it to my number to use.
Which was perfectly fine until we couldn’t actually get the phone to recognize it was no longer under her name. According to the sales associate at the carrier’s store, we had to have the correct four-digit password to unlock her phone/account. Problem was, there never was a password that we assigned to either the phone or account (at least none of the ones we had worked), so all of my contact information from my old phone mysteriously appeared on her phone. Then her info and my daughter’s appeared on mine, but my contacts no longer were there. Then my wife’s phone had everyone in the family’s account info.
Trying to do a factory-reset, recommended by Apple, to wipe out and restore the old phone also didn’t work, instead freezing up midway through the process.
Which led to the purchase of a refurbished iPhone 6. So no big deal, just bring it in and activate it, right?
Well, no.
Now another worker at the carrier insists I have to have my wife’s account number and driver’s license in order to activate a phone in my name.
It was a different story, of course, when my wife brought the phone in — the sales associate who helped her didn’t even ask for her license, just turned the blinking phone on … smdh (see, I know that groovy young-folk chat lingo too).
I’m still not sure it was worth the hassle.
CHRIS LANDRY is the newsroom editor for The Daily Iberian.