There are few things in this world that infuriate me as much as manipulative telephone support personnel. Because of this, I admit that last week I found myself lying like a cheap rug in a (doomed) gambit to resolve a software glitch that prevented video transfer between my camcorder and our new computer. The problem was this: we have a Hitachi video camera, and I wanted to transfer video from it to our new computer, which we recently got because our old one died (no, I didn’t kill the old one by drilling holes in the motherboard – I only did that once and I learned my lesson). Unhappily, the camera and computer didn’t recognize each other. Far from “plug-and-play”, it was more like “hey, haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”. So, I started calling people, googling cryptic error messages, reading obscure tech support strings, downloading drivers, and generally engaging in troubleshooting whack-a-mole. When I finally got on the phone with someone from Hitachi, my fuse had been shortened considerably. The tech dude insisted on confirming all system requirements, before latching on to my OS version as justification for refusing to help me.
Tech Dude: You have OS X 10.4.9, but our software is only compatible up to 10.4.7.
Me: You’re kidding, right?
Tech Dude: No
Me: Do know of any specific reason why 10.4.9 would cause problems?
Tech Dude: Well, not really.
Me: Let me tell you what’s going to happen. I’m going to waste a bunch of time rolling back my OS to 10.4.7, and then I’m going to have the exact same problem.
Tech Dude: I just can’t do anything while you’re on 10.4.9
Me: (Having just decided to lie, I see my next temple recommend interview flash before my eyes) I’m happy to tell you that while you were giving me your last answer, I just completed the installation of 10.4.7.
Tech Dude: You just installed a new operating system in the last few minutes?
Me: Yes
Tech Dude: Well, ok. How much RAM do you have?
Me: How much RAM do you want me to have?
Having exhausted all potential blocking strategies, Tech Dude relents and starts to troubleshoot. Alas, Tech Dude is much better at evasive maneuvers than he is at troubleshooting, and appears to be reading snippets aloud from and out-dated manual for an unrelated product. Even if his latest tack is feigned ineptitude, it works, and I give up on Tech Dude. I did eventually solve the problem, but it took another hour. In a nod to family tradition, I also curse the engineers at Ford.
It was surreal last week when Stu watched my kids so that Marie could go do women’s conference (Stu side note relating to last post– I like “Lawn Gnome”. It’s a great song, but was
just over-used by my kids). Watching our kids was a super nice thing for him to do, and I enjoyed “stayin’ up late tellin’ manly stories”. One or two awkward moments, however, couldn’t be helped: Me: Hi honey, I’m home.
Stu: Step completely away from my personal space.
In fairness to Stu, we need to consider as background the harrowing night he spent splitting a motel bed with Nigel a few years back.
Has anybody besides me noticed that the names on the aisles at the grocery store have been messed with? I was at an Albertson’s last week, and noticed one aisle professed to contain “new age drinks”. The store was essentially saying “we’re not going to tell you what’s really down this aisle, but in order to suck you into more retail space, we’ll label it with confusing names”. This is almost certainly an unwelcome extension of the “milk and eggs in the back corner” ploy. Come to think of it, grocery stores have a perverse incentive to use confusing signage since it makes me visit every corner of the market in order to find the blasted tahini.
I will now complain needlessly about annoying ads. First, the Kay Jewlers jingle – “every kiss begins with Kay”. Can we all please agree that this is presumptuous and not true? Next, that commercial where the kid gets his mom a gift from Best Buy, and she loves it. A helpful Best Buy employee chimes in “There’s a lot you may not know about your mom, but know this: she’s in to electronics”. I’m certain we can also dismiss this erroneous claim. Saying Mom is in to electronics is like saying Dom DeLuise is “in to” portion control. Witness the panic that ensued when the ctrl key was moved, or the rocky transition from Wordstar. I’m quite sure Best Buy knows nothing about my mom. A quick aside: Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!
For some reason, I often do really stupid things. Example one – I often attempt to do stuff like gather up notebooks, pick up my laptop, etc. while holding on to an uncapped pen. This results in lots of solid black graffiti on my dress shirts. I’m sure this allows many of my coworkers to feel mentally superior, given my inability to function without inadvertently writing on myself. Also, I sometimes forget important things when working on cars. Just last week, I checked the oil in my car. Finding it low, I added a couple of quarts. I drove home from the service station, parked the car at my house, and I was troubled to see oil dribbling from the crack between the hood and front bumper. It reminded me of Kai trying to eat too many gummy worms at once. I soon found that I had forgotten to replace the oil cap, so oil was shooting out of the top of the engine. This is similar to the time I was working on the Golf with Dad, and accidentally left a crow bar hanging on a hose underneath the hood. When we discovered it a week later (thankfully with no damage) Dad allowed as how even if I were someday to become a doctor, he probably wouldn’t want to be operated on by me.
We had the Father’s and Son’s campout this weekend. Believe me when I say it’s pretty cushy. The breakfast was put on by our overachieving elder’s quorum prez. The spread included 5 varieties of muffins, strawberries, freshly-squeezed orange juice, hotcakes, sausage, and milk. The EQ prez was hustling around taking care of business and looking smart in his Williams Sonoma couture apron. He took some ribbing for the apron, which one brother called “cute”. On another subject,
one elder pitched (for himself and his 2 year old) the largest tent I have ever seen. It could have easily been a facsimile of the Moses-era tabernacle, complete with assembly hall (see picture).Now, you will be regaled with a lengthy and frivolous account of the day I spent hoping I would not be put on a jury. Warning: there is no point to this account, at all.
I get up at 6am because I have to take the train in to town, and jury duty starts at 7:45. The large jury lounge is packed with other potential jurors by 8:00. We are treated to a video about how being a juror is part of our civic duty, and it’s even kinda fun. A kindly, spry judge who looks to be in his 70’s then addresses us. He scores the joke of the day:
“I was at the checkout line at the grocery store when I ran into a lady who had been on a jury in my courtroom a few weeks before. Her whole face lit up as she said “That was the most fun I’ve had in years!”. “Gosh” I thought, “this lady needs to get a life”.”
I’m intent on napping whenever possible, and this plan goes ok until my name is called and I am told to report to jury services. It seems I have been chosen for an important assignment, no doubt because I appear to be a mild-mannered, responsible citizen. I am to take a fat envelope filled with court documents to room 52 on the 4th floor, north wing, of the country courthouse next door, and join that group for jury selection. I set off, but get lost once I’m inside the building. I ask a man in uniform with a gun where I can find court 52 on the 4th floor. “Well, I don’t really work here…”. Wait. You’re loitering in the hall with a nightstick and gun, and you don’t work here? He thinks about it and starts in again “this is going to sound funny, but it’s going to be on the 3rd floor”. I set off again, but have to stop off at the restroom. This is a weird place. No toilet seat covers, floor is spotless and gleaming, but the cleanliness of the toilet could have been vastly improved had I challenged it to a nee-nu fight. I get to court room 52. We are all shown into the room, and 12 people are placed in the jury seats. The room itself is kitschy. Lots of wood paneling, fluorescent lights, and shelves sagging under the weight of neat rows of books that appear never to have been used. The “Great Seal of the State of California” sits front and center on the wall. I wonder why it is “great”. As I settle into my chair, I look at the defendant. My first impulse is to wonder what she’s accused of (it turns out to be petty theft, a low misdemeanor). She is a slender, diminutive blond-haired woman with a deep tan. She looks to be in her early 40’s. In general, she doesn’t look directly at anyone in the jury area, instead shooting them the occasional furtive glance. That’s not to say she acted guilty. To me, she looks more ticked-off than anything else.
The judge starts in after we are sworn to tell the truth (maybe Tech Dude should’ve made me take an oath). He certainly has the appropriate amount of gravitas, and commands the attention of counsel, the defendant, and potential jurors, addressing us in a rich, unhurried baritone. He’s a retired judge from up north, but is here in San Diego to help out because we have a heavy backlog of cases, and also because he has a child and grandchildren in the area and likes it here.
I glance at the reading material my neighbor has brought. The back dustcover reads: “Jammed with the tensions of imminent disaster. The whole thing unfolds with the timing of a quartz watch” - a far cry from the courtroom drama at the moment. Come to think of it, the only thing that really looks like a TV show is the jury. In most shows, the jury is composed of all different kinds of people, and they just sit there and say nothing. That’s exactly what the 12 people look like now.
The judge is deliberate as he explains everything to us. Stuff like “beyond a reasonable doubt means to have an abiding conviction”, “the defendant doesn’t have to testify”, “the people must prove their case”, etc. In our case, the judge vets the jury, and the lawyers use their preemptive challenges after hearing him do that. He asks for name, occupation, spouse occupation, etc. One lady says here husband is a “systems analyst”. Although I’ve heard this title many times before, I’m again struck by sheer ambiguity of it. What does a systems analyst do? All I know is that there’s some sort of setup somewhere, and that dude kind of takes a look at it.
I’m interested that there are a lot of people who really want to be on the jury. One lady even says “hey, it beats going to work”. A former US attorney and a lady who has a brother in law on death row are both on the original 12. Both are quickly dismissed by the defense attorney. The assistant DA is content with the jury from the start, and doesn’t remove anyone. The defense attorney ousts mostly young guys. In the end, I get my day in court (I leave about 4pm), but I’m never called up to the jury stand. That’s the end of it – I check out and go home. A couple of other observations:
-One time as I was hurrying down the hall toward the exit on lunch break, I glanced to my right and saw two people in shackles waiting in front of an elevator with an armed guard behind them. Although I didn’t slow down, I was still taken aback. It’s the kind of scene I usually see in a film, or on the news. For a split second I caught the eyes of one of the men. He was young, and appeared to be Latino. I thought about it a lot afterward. It’s hard to describe why, but I guess it’s because I was only a few feet from this guy, but our day to day existence could probably not be more different. I live a cushy life. I’ve got plenty of food to eat, a car that works, a job I like, and a loving family that I look forward to going home to every night. I go where I want and usually make my own choices. He was shackled and watched over by a guard. He doesn’t get to decide where he goes or what he does. He spends his days in a cell surrounded by very dangerous people (perhaps he’s one of them). He can’t go where he wants or do what he wants. I learn about how to navigate corporate stuff; he probably learns how to navigate the incarcerated world. I probably still haven’t explained it – oh well.
-It was genuinely interesting to take a break and get sucked into a totally different system where the gears are turning everyday just like they are in the corporate world. In my usual world, it’s presentations, revenues, profits, strategies, products, competitors and the like. In theirs, it’s preemptive challenges, plea bargains, jury instructions, and reasonable doubt (I guess there’s other stuff for civil cases). All the same, escaping did mean that I’d be able to avoid coming home for a week and doing my day job until late. The work still has to get done even if I’m on jury duty.
