Man, and boy, I have worshipped at the shrine of The Gadget .
What luck is has been that I am someone who has seen the advent of the True Electronic Age with the invention of the transistor and its dissemination through society and useful (and otherwise) machines.
Sitting at my desk and without moving things out of the way, I can see a plethora of machines and gadgets. Let me confine myself merely to the surface of the desk.
The so-called Old School gadgets: stapler, Sellotape dispenser, stapler remover, pens, pencils, markers, scissors, paperclips, rubbers, etc
Electronic: digital web radio; Mac Computer, Bluetooth keyboard, ditto mouse, Bose mini Bluetooth speaker, studio microphone, digital led lamp with USB connections, telephone, new smartwatch for a present, electronic flashlight, cables, connectors, batteries, battery charger, power points and plugs galore, printer, removable hard drives and on and on. And I’ve left some of the things out because such a mass of things becomes rather embarrassing when you list them!
The number of computers that I have owned is little short of astonishing in all their forms from handheld, through portable to desktop. I have loved them all and have willing accepted the cruel price that dedication to the computer has demanded in terms of lost time in front of an unresponsive screen when programs simply didn’t work or went wrong at exactly the wrong time, in spite of the pleading that all of us have done to the harsh masters of plastic and glass when they decided not to cooperate.
I am not afraid to admit that I have wept tears of pure unalloyed frustration in front of dead computer screens, when I had put all of my digital eggs in one fickle electronic basket. But I have kept on, keeping on.
And let’s be fair, modern computing is nothing like it was in the Dark Ages of thirty years ago. Things generally go well. Delays are minimal. When you consider that with one of my early computers, the Sinclair QL, I had to wait up to a minute for the machine to save one A4 page of typing – and you could do nothing but wait while it saved – the microseconds that you wait for small documents to save nowadays is little sort of miraculous. And programs (generally) work and there is a logic behind operations that you are (usually) more than capable of working out. Life working with computers is (generally) good.
Which brings me to today.
And banks.
I am in the process of buying a new bike and, for reasons too complicated and irritating to go into, I had to pay for the bike by getting my bank to send the money in US dollars to Hong Kong.
The money was sent off. And eventually the bike makers plaintively asked where it was. The money had been sent god know where, but my bank did not see fit to let me know that the payment had been unsuccessful.
When I went to the bank a second time to find out what had gone on, I was informed that the money had been returned and would I like to try again to send the money to the manufacturer. As the manufacturer had, by this time, sent me a photograph of my bike packed up with my name on it waiting to be shipped, I said that would be a good idea.
So, the money was sent off and successfully reached its destination.
But.
I was charged 22 Euros for the original sending of the money.
I was then charged 22 Euros for the money to be returned.
I was then charged 22 Euros for the money to be resent.
66 Euros for payment of a printed invoice!
This is an on-going case!
However, I had another bill to pay, this time to a firm in Barcelona and I was determined that I would not be caught in the 22 Euro trap of getting a bank teller to do the transfer of funds – I would use the digital aspect of my bank to do it myself.
It took half the morning and a fair part of the afternoon to get things organized. I could, without too much difficulty, get into my account online. I even managed to input all the details necessary to pay the debt, it was just the final part of the transaction that let me down.
It was not enough to use all the security to get into the account to make things safe, there was also a mobile phone app that acted as a sort of digital signature.
I am not, for the sake of my sanity, going to itemize the number of times that I went back and fro, from computer to phone, copying and pasting various security numbers (“Only valid for 5 minutes!”) to get some sort of mystical authorization so the bloody money could be paid.
In the course of trying to get things done, I utilized the menu help, the automated digital assistant and anything else that I could click on. Nothing worked and I found myself in a Circle of Authorization of the Damned, repeating various SMS routines and getting precisely nowhere.
I eventually, through a process of elimination, clicked on a link to a named individual who was apparently my Personal Banker. I asked for help and nothing happened and so I gave up.
And then the phone rang and, to cut a long story short, after a confusing conversation I was given Another Way to try and it worked.
My point is that things were difficult when they should have been easy. In spite of my dedication to things gadgetful, I was still left hanging. And re-living the frustration of years ago.
If I think about it, years ago I would have written a cheque and put it in the post. Job done. When is the last time you wrote a cheque? You are not given a cheque book in Spain. If you need a cheque you have to get the bank manager to sign one and they cost a fortune!
So, although on my digital account I can see every payment and get details of when and how much has been taken from my account; I can see pretty graphs of my expenditure; I can sort and search, it is just all there to compensate me for the fact that some things were easy and are now complicated.
But, and this is the real lesson that one takes from the digital experiences that bloody one; the next time it will be easier and I will be able to take advantage of the glorious possibilities that digital banking offers.
Such self-delusion is the way that we keep sane.
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