Microsoft: we have a problem

My profile has been corrupted. Or tormented. Or demented. Or flagellated.

We had a gloriousness up in the Hunter Valley over Easter with friends.

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We arrived home to a list of THINGS TO DO. Wallington went online and sorted (genius! gorgeous!) our airfares over to the UK for an August wedding. Not ours. It took us ten years to get married but we did it in the end.

The wedding is niece Amanda’s. She has our ‘grandchildren’. Needless to say we love her.

But things went online awry. Communications went mis. For days we couldn’t log on. Or blog on. I was no longer me.

We’re not big on the concept of being plugged in. We leave our daggy phones – neither of them smartphones, but nevertheless mobile – immobile; on the bench, in the car, down the back of the couch, or in the Powerhouse Museum exhibits. Friends roll their eyes in despair. Sometimes they have to walk around and knock on our door to see if we’re up for a bevvy. That’s connection. We invariably say yes.

I’m with Telstra and when I realised I no longer existed as the person formerly known as redsall I spent an hour progressing through various, polite call centres probably all around the world. I’ve got no particular angst about talking to an Indian with a transatlantic accent. We’re global. Get groovy.

In the end it seems my problem was with Microsoft, not Telstra. According to Telstra.

I pressed the F8 key and opened my account in safe mode and reverted to an earlier, simpler time. Dinosaurs roamed the earth. I went back to a system recovered from April 22 2014.

It worked.

All I had to do now was cancel the Telstra technician I’d booked to come and fix things for $192 on Mayday. A helpful female robot told me I’d be talking with a helpful person in approximately two helpful minutes. Approximately.

It’s Saturday. I prepared a panzanella salad and cooked some bacon and poured two glasses of lovely cheap sparkly from the Hunter all within the approximately two minutes it took waiting with my phone to my ear for Telstra to let me cancel the technician. Twenty-five minutes. In the end I hung up. (NOTE TO SELF: don’t forget to ring back at an obscure hour and cancel that technician.)

The modern world is a wonder. Sometimes I wonder.

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