on April 17, 2008
So Sunday evening the kiddo and I got hungry. I’d been working on homework all day with more to go. Cooking was not on the horizon. That’s when a brilliant idea came to me. Let’s order pizza! Since I was already online, I figured I’d use good old technology and cut out having to deal with a half-brained teenager on the phone. Mistake number one.
Since I don’t want to promote any specific company, lets say I went to the PH website. I’d registered on there before, or so I thought, so I tried to log in. No go. So I tried to register. At which time I was informed my email address was already registered. Really? Ok. Lets hit the “forgot my log in” button and see what comes up.
So I wait. The answer comes and off I go. Now I’m registered. I pick a coupon, order the pizza on it and try to check out. I’m informed I must order at least $8.50 worth of product for delivery. I know I’ve ordered more than that amount so I check the items in my cart. The amount due reads $0.00 even though there is a pizza and coupon in my *cart*. Hmmmm…I try again and a little message pops up saying I must contact my local store as this order cannot be processed online.
Since calling is what I was trying to avoid and by this time I was mightily ticked off, I ventured to a different pizza provider. Mistake number two.
We’ll call this one PJ’s. I know I’ve never registered here so I start the process. I enter my name, address, phone numbers, blood type, weight at birth, and shoe size then press continue. Nothing happens. I scroll up the page to find the little red print that will tell me what I’ve done wrong. No little red print. I check all lines and click continue again. Nothing.
In case you haven’t figured it out, by this point I was beyond irritated. My daughter had already moved as far down the couch as she could. She’s a smart child.
At the end of my rope with the damn technology, I picked up the phone and called the store number on the screen. Enter the half-brained teenager. And I’m exaggerating when I use the word “half”. I can’t even understand anything she/he says in the greeting. Not even enough to determine if I should use the word “he” or “she” in this damn blog.
After the initial greeting I said, “I beg your pardon?” to which the person repeated the greeting EXACTLY the same way again. To this moment I have no idea what that garbled greeting was supposed to be. It was as if the nitwit decided to actually place the mouthpiece of the receiver in their mouth and then talk.
At that point, I hung up the phone and declared to kiddo we WERE NOT having pizza for dinner. Sometime around 8pm I got up and made a pizza in the kitchen. *sigh*
Have you had a similar experience? Do you think technology really makes our lives easier? Or are you like me and convinced its sole purpose is to drive us all insane. It’s just doing it at the speed of smell. (Thanks Ron White for that last little joke. *g*)