FRENZY by Mark King
What is the price of anger? Well in my case I can tell you it has cost me £97. You see near the end of last week I was on my notebook trying to use the Internet and the damn thing kept freezing on me. For no reason Internet explorer would not work, it would stop, just frozen on the page, and the only way to get it working again was to take out the battery, and reboot it again. After this happened for the third time in ten minutes I got so angry that I shoved the battery pack back into it's place with an outburst of anger that managed to break the little connecting pins inside. So my laptop was fu'ked and so was I as I headed off to the nearest repair shop. The price of repair was £97 so that's what my five seconds of anger cost me.
Although we are all brainwashed into believing technology is making life simpler I get the feeling we are being fed a lie sometimes. We are told things are so much quicker, like with Internet banking. You spend hours if not days on-line searching all the financial information. Once you pick a bank and filled out the on-line questioner you have to then send off all the forms of identification required, then wait ten days to receive a letter stating you need to send in the original forms of I.D not the printed/photocopied ones. So you send them off and wait then another ten days. This time you get a letter back confirming your account is open and the return of your originals minus your driving licence you sent to them. Hours spent on the phone, waiting, being passed about, at cost to your phone, turns into days of emailing, then months of complaints trying to just get back what is rightfully yours. In the mean time you had to cover the cost of applying for a new licence, and then spend the rest of the year trying to get the bank to admit their mistake in loosing your driving licence, and to cover the cost of this new one. In the mean time you are so feed up, disgusted, and worn down you refuse to use this new account on principle. It's even worse and tens times as distressing when money disappears!
It was so much simpler in the early seventies when I got my first bank account opened for me by my grand-mother as a gift for my fifth birthday. We walked the fifteen minutes to the local Post Office (now closed) which she had been using for the last thirty years, and while inside chatted happily with the post mistress who had been running this said institution for all of those thirty years. She explained what she wanted and after spending a couple of minutes filling out a simple one page form (no I.D required) she handed over £5, and I was given my first card record book. Simple. We walked back holding hands, relaxed and happy, and by the time we had returned to her home it had only taken us 45 minutes from there and back.
So simple only clever people who are as thick as two short planks can come up with ways to make life complicated.