Seriously. I Don’t Have TV.

Dear Samsung,

I love my Galaxy S4. I’ve never been the person that buys the newest, hottest phone on the market. I usually buy the one with the operating system that’s just old enough that it doesn’t do any of the things that the salesperson thinks all phones do. And it costs around $50 or less when I renew my contract.

This year, I decided I was tired of having a terrible camera and the inability to do the cool stuff that everyone else was doing. I decided I wanted it all. Maybe it’s because I turn 40 next year. I don’t know. I looked at HTC’s rival phone but went with the S4 instead, mostly because of the superior camera.

And I love it.

There’s been some quirks, don’t get me wrong. When I first got it, it wouldn’t give an audible indication that I had received a text message. I fiddled with the gazillion options and settings and even power cycled the phone but nothing worked. After some Google hunting, I tried turning the phone off, popping the battery out, putting it back together, and turning it back on. To my surprise (and pleasure), that worked.

So I’ve had the phone for four months now and I couldn’t be happier with it. But something happened on this most recent automatic upgrade that has me miffed. You installed a new app: WatchON. This app can supposedly control my TV. It can also suggest TV shows I might like based on shows I watch.

Whatever. We don’t have television, so… thanks but no thanks. I cleared the notification from my notification screen and went on with my life.

The next day, the notification returned. I dismissed it. The next day, it was back.

Okay, fine. I’ll go ahead and set it up. You asked for my country and zip code and then gave me a list of all the television service providers in my area. You didn’t give an option for those of us who don’t have television. Right, because we don’t have a use for this app, do we?

I selected that it wasn’t listed and your app chastised me for obviously giving an invalid location since I couldn’t select something from the list. I exited out and cleared the notification. Again. Eventually, after a week or so of being notified to setup something that I absolutely cannot setup because you don’t think people like me exist, I decided to uninstall the app.

That’s when I learned that I’m not allowed to uninstall this particular app. So let me get this straight.

1) You installed the app on my phone.
2) You keep notifying me (in a large and annoying way) that I need to set it up.
3) You don’t allow me the option to say I’m not interested.
4) You don’t offer a “no TV provider” option.
5) You won’t allow me to uninstall it from my phone.

Seriously. Not everyone watches TV. And some of the others (like us) just watch online or through Netflix and Amazon Prime. We don’t have a television provider.

I finally just went through the setup, picking one of the listed providers. I’m hoping this will satisfy the beast. I hope I don’t get more notifications about how I’m not making use of this wonderful new app. You lost some cool points on this one. Keep it up and I might just try out that HTC next time.

Sincerely,

NO Watch ON

Advertisements

Almost-Perilous Road Trip

I recently took a road trip with a girlfriend. Technically, she’s the mother of one of Jane’s girlfriends. She’s still in my phone as “Alison’s mom, Sue” even though we know each other well enough that I no longer have trouble remembering her name.

The road trip was to a town about four hours away in another state so that we could see our daughters in a Robotics competition. We hit the road mid-afternoon in my little Prius. The conversation and laughter started as we pulled out of her driveway and never stopped. My mouth was dry. My throat even felt a little raw. I was having a blast.

There is something exciting about getting to know someone that you have interacted with just enough to anticipate that you will thoroughly enjoy the person’s company. We talked about our children, our family histories, sixth grade drama, parenting, siblings, love, marriage, divorce, religion, politics, the workplace, race relations, weight loss, and so much more.

The talking didn’t slow once we arrived. It just encountered more interruptions as we made phone calls, checked on the girls, and prepared for bed. We sat on our beds as if we were about to retire any minute. Sometime after midnight, we reluctantly turned off the lights and went to sleep.

The next day was long and exhausting. At the end of it, the girls didn’t want to ride home with us. They wanted to ride the bus. On the one hand, this meant we’d have to go pick them up since it’d take longer for the bus to make the trip than us. On the other hand, we’d get to continue our carefree conversation if the girls were not in the backseat. The girls rode the bus. We left town extremely tired, armed only with caffeine and conversation.

Eventually, we found ourselves on a stretch of highway that had no towns, a very long stretch of road, when the car beeped at me. We were nearly out of gas! It had not entered my muddled mind to fill up before making the return trip.

To compound the situation, my phone was so close to dead that it could not access the internet and Sue’s phone was not far behind. I slowed down and we started discussing our options if we didn’t make it to the next town. The options were bleak. Some fellow parents were making the drive too and I had their number but they were probably an hour ahead of us. We were well over two hours from home. The school bus full of children and very tired teachers was behind us. I couldn’t fathom asking them to bring us gas.

The car was starting to hesitate like it was going to die so Sue used her phone to find the nearest gas station. She found one 9.5 miles away but it involved getting off the highway we were on. We passed a sign that showed the next town was 16 miles away. Conveniently ignoring one of her earlier tales of OnStar leading her to a closed gas station, we opted to trust the phone app.

The new road was even more deserted than the last. The seriousness of our situation was starting to sink in. We were on an empty road in a car about to run out of gas with two nearly dead cell phones, heading to a gas station that might not exist or might not be open. And we had just left the road that the school bus would be traveling on.

“We can never tell the girls about this,” Sue said. “Just imagine how mad at them we’d be if they were 16 and did something this stupid.”

“At least they aren’t in the car with us.”

“Very true.” We laughed. The conversation died down as we traveled along holding our breaths.

The road went around a bend and we could see lights. Soon, a bar came into view. Sue laughed that at least we could get a drink while we waited for AAA to arrive. After passing by a couple more streets, we found the gas station.

These pumps were old. I mean, really, really, really old. Forget pay-at-the-pump. These still had those little metal number plates that flipped over as you pumped the gas. We had now dissolved into a fit of laughter.

She tumbled out of the car to go ask if we needed to prepay and I began to examine the pumps. I tried to lift the handle and it wouldn’t come up. Feeling around in the dark, I found a padlock! Now nervous about whether they actually had any gas, I checked the other unleaded handle. No padlock. Relief.

Nerve-wracking adventure concluded safely, we returned to the highway and our conversation and eventually made it safely home, full of fond memories of a fun and almost-perilous road trip.

A Little Grouchy

We had no choice but to wake up at the usual school-day time on Saturday. The older two had UIL, an annual scholastic meet, and they had to be there at 7:45. We planned to leave at 7:00 so we could get some breakfast. When no one was up by 6:30, I opened doors and turned on lights.

The two who had cause to get up early groaned and stretched and rolled over. Hal bounded out of bed and began unzipping his fuzzy footed monster pajamas. He was babbling excitedly to his brother about how Mommy said we get to go to Braum’s if we get ready fast enough. He was the first dressed and came into my room with his face shining.

“Hal, will you take my phone and put it in my purse?”

“Sure! Where is your purse?”

“It’s by the door on that little table.”

With a happy “Ok!”, he took my phone and scurried out of the room.

When he returned, I was in the bathroom. “I put your phone in your purse, Mommy!”

“Thank you very much, Hal! I appreciate it.”

He climbed up on the step stool, then rested his elbows on the counter and his chin on his hands. In a slightly more reserved voice, he sighed, “I can’t tell you you’re welcome because I’m feeling a little grouchy right now.”