A little impatience August 13, 2021

Published by the Times-Georgian–August 7, 2021

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

I’m frustrated.

My iPhone isn’t working. It’s 12:14 p.m., and I’m on hold with my phone company. This is my fourth call today as my problem keeps getting escalated, and I have two missions to complete today:

Mission #1: Replace my iPhone. I already know what’s not working. My keyboard doesn’t work and I can’t type emails, texts and even future columns since I write many of these pieces on my phone.

Mission #2: Complete this column while I wait for a representative to solve my cell phone’s problem.

I read somewhere the average person clicks on his or her phone 900 plus times per day. That’s a lot. And I’m probably in the above average category. That’s not something I’m proud of achieving as I’m dependent on a cell phone for my work.

Hold on…my representative is back.

“What did you say was the problem again with your phone?” the representative asks.

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  Frustrated angry man reading a text message on his smartphone blowing steam coming out of ears

“My keypad isn’t working and I can’t type letters necessary for me to send an email or text,” I answer. “I think you’re going to need to send me a replacement phone.”

“OK, before we can agree to send a replacement phone, we need to run some tests,” she instructs. “Please grab your phone and go to the Settings section. I will need you to back up it up and I will stay on the phone with you until it’s finished.”

Fifteen minutes later my phone is backed up, and I learned about my representative’s recent finger injury while we waited. She’s been in a lot of pain.

“It’s now backed up,” I tell my representative.

“Now I need you to go back to Settings and enter your password,” she says.

“You see—that’s why I’m calling you,” I inform her. “My keypad doesn’t work so I can’t type in my password.”

“Hmmm,” she whispers. “I’ll need to call Apple Support. Please wait while I put you on hold. I will then call you back within 30-45 minutes following your call with Apple to make sure your phone issue is resolved.”

Thirteen minutes later, I hear an energetic voice on the other line.

“Hello Joseph, you have reached Apple Support!” she says. “What type of issue are you having with your phone?”

I explain it again for the nonillionth time today, and I follow my Apple representative’s help for the entire process.

Thirty-three minutes later our task is finalized, and now all I have to do is wait for my phone carrier representative to call me back so I can complete the first mission.

It’s now been two hours since I wrote the previous sentence, and I still haven’t heard from my representative with the hurt finger. I’m calling my carrier now—

“Due to the high call volume, your estimated wait time is (long pause) 26 minutes,” the computerized voice tells me.

Oh well, it’s 4:21 p.m. and I’ve almost accomplished Mission #2. As for Mission #1, I’ll be lucky if I talk to a representative before tomorrow’s sunrise.

Wait…a representative is ready to help me now…

I explain my issue again. It’s now 5:03 p.m. and finally my issue is resolved—

“After performing all of the tests, we can now safely determine that we will need to send you a new phone as a replacement,” she politely tells me. “You should receive it tomorrow.”

I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then, have a nice day!

Bye! Bye!

Hello Tokyo August 13, 2021

Published by the Times-Georgian–July 31, 2021

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

He responded in lightning speed.

Technology can be quite amazing while I’m messaging my friend Dave Sheinin. We’ve come a long way since the summer days in 1981 where I used to have walk through the woods in my neighborhood as a 12-year-old boy to trade baseball cards with Dave. Now, all I have to do is I pick up my phone and he responds seconds later. The only difference this time is I’m standing in my yard in Carrollton while Dave is sitting in a hotel room in Tokyo, Japan.

Since 1999, the Carrollton native and Central High School graduate has covered the Olympics as a sports journalist for The Washington Post. Following his graduation from Vanderbilt University, Sheinin has risen to top of his profession as a multi award-winning journalist. He’s clearly seen his share of some of the Olympics greatest moments first-hand, but nothing has prepared him to the games of 2021.

What’s it like being in Tokyo for the Olympics?

“We work in empty stadiums and arenas, talk to each other through masks and plexiglass partitions, go to great lengths to avoid close contact,” he writes. “We spit into plastic tubes at regular intervals. Our movements are tracked by smartphone apps we are required to download—no visits to restaurants or bars—and the eyes of uniformed men on street corners. We see only the top halves of faces, and yet we know intrinsically: No one is smiling at us.”

And he has forever stamped a name for the 2021 summer games—

“These are the Sensory-Deprivation Olympics: No fans. No natural crowd-noise. No touching” states Dave. “They are the Zombie Olympics, with those of us with Tokyo 2020 official credentials kept separate from a resentful Japanese public that—understandably, given the country’s continued struggles against the coronavirus pandemic—regards us warily as potential spreaders of new and contagious variants. Everywhere we go, somebody comes around behind us to sanitize anything we touched.

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“Nobody seems to want us here – in polls, a clear majority of the Japanese public remains opposed to the Olympics, which, according to a recent editorial in the Asahi Shimbun newspaper, were ‘pushed through by force’ so that the IOC could earn its billions from television rights,” continues Dave. “And if we’re being honest, we sometimes wonder ourselves if our presence is warranted, justified or necessary.”

The Tokyo 2020 Summer Games never arrived after COVID-19. For months, the entire Olympic community was left guessing about the possibility of cancellation, but it’s here—some 15,000 athletes and 70,000 media officials and media members.

“We’ve all endured varying degrees of jetlagged hell to get through processing and covid-testing at Tokyo’s two international airports,” adds Sheinin. “The news is a constant trickle of bad, except when it is a stream. Every day brings word of more positive tests – several of them so far by athletes who were already in the country. Japanese companies, led by Toyota, are pulling their commercials off television broadcasts out of concern about the negative publicity. Local officials estimate there will be between 700,000 and 1 million hotel cancellations. Economists predict widespread bankruptcies.”

The virus, responsible for more than 4 million deaths worldwide, colors every aspect of the Games, even if the vast majority of athletes and staff are vaccinated.

“Imagine being an athlete here, having trained most of your life for this moment, only to be poked and prodded, made to feel as if your presence isn’t wanted, barred from bringing family members along and asked to summon Olympian performances in empty stadiums devoid of atmosphere or electricity,” states Sheinin. “The good news is I’m now able to go to the events and watch these athletes compete and that has energized me seeing their enthusiasm in pursuit of a gold medal.”

The 2021 Summer Games have already brought sights unseen as medal ceremonies have been “contactless,” with medalists draping their medals over their own necks.

“For media, an Olympics, even under the best of circumstances, is a grind, a whirlwind, an endurance test,” Sheinin adds. “But at most of them, the monotony is occasionally broken by an epic night out, or an encounter with a friendly and quirky local or a random blending of cultures that leaves you edified and bemused and above all appreciative of the opportunity you were given to be present at such a wondrous event.”

And for Sheinin, who is famous among members of the national media as a master hotel bar entertainer for his singing while banging the keys of a lounge piano (check out his music at davesheinin.bandcamp.com), this Olympics has provided no opportunity for late night celebration—

“Here, if you enjoy a bottle of wine one night with a couple of colleagues, all of you fully vaccinated, in the courtyard of your hotel – outdoors, socially distanced, safe – the next day a sign appears in that exact spot saying, ‘No drinking,’” laments Sheinin. “Long rides to far-flung venues on official Olympic buses are a dreaded inconvenience at most Games. Here, they are a welcomed respite, if only because it affords a chance to see something of a country you otherwise see only from a hotel window.

“Tokyo is said to be a wondrous city, full of beauty, populated by gracious people,” concludes Sheinin. “Someday we might like to come back to see it and to meet them. As for now, these athletes are inspiring and seeing them compete their hearts out have reminded me of why we—all of us who are here—do this.”

Morning reflections August 13, 2021

Published by the Times-Georgian–July 10, 2021

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

It’s quiet here.

I’m sitting in the Shiloh cemetery in Burwell this morning drinking coffee at my son Will’s grave. For most folks, I suppose, setting up a folding chair in a graveyard is quite morbid. For me, however, it’s peaceful, it’s a place to reflect on precious memories and it’s a reminder of where we’re all eventually heading on this side of the eternity fence.

As Willie Nelson once said, “Live everyday like it’s your last and one day you’ll be right.”

Today is the 5th of July. It’s the day Will and I would drive to Six Flags and ride roller coasters until it was so hot even the log ride couldn’t cool us.

We should be there again today, but….

I look around at the tombstones and see the names of people I remember. My mother is buried up the hill. My father-in-law was laid to rest at the foot of Will’s grave. My wife’s great-grandparents are buried about 100 yards away. And my grandparents are here, too.

“This is where I’ll be buried one day,” my grandfather Leonas Garrett once told me as he drove his Chevy Impala through the grounds.

“Why do you want to be buried here, Granddaddy?” I asked.

“Because it’s under a shade tree,” he laughed. “I want to stay cool.”

It’s been a while since I’ve been here to sit. I don’t know if it’s the pandemic, the heartbreaking losses in my family last year or what. Moreover, I haven’t felt the urge to visit as often because after time, one realizes while staring at a name chiseled in stone—our loved ones really aren’t there.

As I’m presently in the prime years of middle age, I’ve been thinking a lot about the stuff that really matters. In our culture, a high premium is placed on success, achievement and performance. It’s easy to be controlled by these traits but life is so much more.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings or for that matter what an hour from now delivers. Hopefully, today will bring a little ray of sunshine as I depart this place and rejoin the living. So before I leave, I’ll pray the following words sent to me by a friend who found a newspaper clipping with the following words tucked inside one of his grandmother’s old books titled Just Being Happy published in 1913. Enjoy. And, Lord willing, see you back here in this same space next week:

Lord, Thou knows I am growing older;

Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject;

Release me from the cravings to straighten out everyone’s affairs;

Keep me from the recital of endless detail. Give me wings to get to the point;

Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains. They are increasing with the years and my love to speak of them grows sweeter as time goes by;

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong. Make me thoughtful but not nosy—helpful but not bossy;

With the vast store of wisdom and experience it does seem a pity not to use it all;

But thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Amen.