that little voice
If you are going to change things, find someone who knows how to help you, and affix them permanently to your side.
Or you can live in darkness wandering around the forest biting your nails, yelling to the heavens, gritting your teeth, and succumbing to desperate pleas to your computer that pays no attention to your agony.
The latter is the way I took on the challenge of changing my bank account, my credit card instructions, mailing addresses, and changing my mind I had some idea how to do all the above.
After being offline and lost in the valley of no phone service, no wifi, no emails, no communication with the sane world, I have affirmed I have no nerd genes in my DNA.
Of course, I knew that, but hey, surely I can make these simple adjustments without pulling my pink locks out by the roots because I’m ‘locked out’ of every website cluttering my laptop.
As you can tell, it has been a frustrating and exhausting month attempting to get Covid prevention shots, visiting every doctor in a 50 mile radius, purchasing merchandise that can only be found in the U.S. and is a ‘must have’ if you are residing in Mexico, while remaining cordial and socially acceptable to those around me.
I have prided myself in being pleasant, somewhat calm, with a limited tendency to cry uncontrollably when unplanned kinks alter my plans. But, my pride has been ejected, replaced with the reality I am not equipped to handle rejection by my computer and the Internet.
My cool, collected self may be permanently scarred destined to never return. Oh, the miseries of being 79 rather than 9, especially when it comes to computers.
Changing my bank account seemed to be a fairly simple task, not a challenge for someone who spent 15+ years in that industry. How foolish can a grown woman be? Signing all the paper work, ordering checks, and believing all was settled, I began the simple task of changing instructions on my credit card accounts directing payments to come from one financial institution to the new one.
Suddenly, red flags went soaring through the ethers of the Internet, causing my new opened account to be ‘blocked’ because of suspicious activity. It only took four trips to my new best cashier to convince them I was simply attempting to tell the credit card companies I had found a new home for my funds.
I went back to my trusty laptop confident I was going to finally make all the switches only to discover all my credit card companies had blocked my entrance, and even PayPal sent me a message that they were closing my account!
That created another screaming tantrum of unladylike behavior, which did nothing to resolve the issues, but I did feel better even with my hoarse voice chords.
In the midst of this bit of drama, I was also trying to figure out how to have a phone service with a U.S. number that would allow the credit card companies to send me text messages in Mexico. Another easy job, supposedly. Not so fast, Margo. Nothing is easy for the unsuspecting novices.
Apparently credit card companies and banks don’t want to send you special codes by email and will only use text messages to guarantee you receive sacred six number codes, and those won’t go through the free service of Magic Jack, which is the method I used to receive calls from the states to Mexico.
After another bout of storming about the house muttering obscenities, my daughter suggested I go on their family plan which had unlimited calls from the United States to Canada and Mexico, at a reasonable cost. Off to the carrier store to secure this new plan, and Hallelujah, the angels of cyber space recognized a woman who was on the verge of meltdown and decided to ease the painful days of craziness.
For a mere $150 (charged at $5 monthly) I could get a brand new iPhone with most of the bells and whistles that are hidden in the iPhone 11. Folks, that is a DEAL. After a couple of trips back and forth to that store interspersed with trips to the bank, I saw light approaching, and hoped I was soon to exit the tunnel of wifi nightmares.
A mere 10 days later, my phone works, I can receive text messages, receive emails, use my credit cards, take great pictures with my new phone, and learned the names and birthdates of the employees’ children at all these institutions I’ve haunted almost daily.
In addition, I’ve received both my Covid shots, seen five doctors, traveled to Oklahoma four times, bought five tanks of gas, licked my way around three DQ dipped cones, bought new hearing aids, and visited four Walmarts. My last challenge will be to get back into Mexico with two giant bottles of Miracle Whip, and a jar of Pace’s hot sauce; items not found in San Miguel.
Can I blame this on Covid?