A few weeks ago, Peter and I got new phones and turned in our old ones. The upgrade was overdue, and I had been procrastinating, stressed out by the prospect of losing my familiar friend.
I made a visit to the Apple store in advance to scope models, and determined we would each trade our iPhones for the latest 16 Pro Max. Peter’s iPad needed an upgrade too, so I checked that, but we were saving that task for later, when this iPhone business was behind us.
Midday on Thursday, May 29th, armed with my password list, we made our way to the Apple store. I wasn’t sure which online accounts would be accessed, and confident I wouldn’t remember them anyway, so I brought them all. Peter keeps his password list in his head.
Once there we connected with an Apple sales agent, and Peter went first. At the designated point in his purchase, the Apple password he entered wasn’t recognized. Being the supposed tech brains of our outfit, I took a deep breath and figured out how to change it, scribbling the new one on my own list for later. During my purchase next, our credit card was declined. With dismay, I chose a different card, and we moved on – learning later that the approval request email prompted by this second larger-than-usual purchase was delivered to my old iPhone, by then in the hands of our Apple sales agent.
Our guided data transfer and phone hand-off took place next at the table in back. The tech agents were patient and assured me, several times, that my old phone was indeed wiped clean. I finally believed them. With transfers seemingly successful we left, walking to the car. I had driven in, and going through my usual start up ritual I realized my new phone-to-Prius cord was no longer compatible and needed replacement too. I left Peter in the passenger seat, and walked back to the Apple store for the purchase.
Peter used my absence to check out his new phone and its apps, and when I returned announced that he had no emails! All were missing. I checked mine then and found the same. Continuing the circular journey together this time, we walked to the Apple store, and to the tech table in back.
The entry of a Google password fixed things for me. Its confirmation security code delivered to my new iPhone got me in, and once opened, all my emails soon appeared. During Peter’s “fix”, the tech agent discovered that his YouTube account was curiously attached to his Google, and as a result the confirmation code necessary for entry was being sent to that app on his iPad – sitting on our couch in Sudbury, miles away. After a few tries, he gave up, and I realized then that I would need to duplicate all of these steps at home, by myself. He went through them again with me, then once more, as I did my best to focus.
Once home we got right to it. I worked through the access steps a few times, but with no luck. I couldn’t be sure I was doing it right. With phone rebooted I tried again, and when that failed too I called AppleCare. Suffering the automated voice delivering its usual drill, I confirmed my phone number for future surveys, pushed the right buttons for tech support, and began my impatient wait. Just then I looked down at the phone in my lap. Its email transfer had just needed time, and there they all were. I hung up on the automated voice, vowing to myself to never ever upgrade my technology again.
Organizing the phone cords I had on hand, I gathered those now obsolete for recycle, and aimed to put the day to rest, all neat and tidy.
Almost time for dinner, we decided to keep things simple with leftover sandwiches from the night before. Chips were requested, so I made my way to the corner store at the end of our street. As I walked to the counter, the colorful bank of scratch tickets behind the register caught my eye. I bought two to celebrate getting through this day, and asked the clerk to pick me out some good ones.
Later that night I presented them and we scratched.
This successful day, all packed away, neat and tidy.
A Pocketful of Posies – my next knit design, coming soon.