Being An Ass

My younger sister has been clever assembling a farm out of Florida acreage in the center of the state.  For a while she and her significant had a resident large lizard, but he went away.  They have some cows, a bull, and some donkeys.  It is a nice bucolic place amidst the clog of folks living there.

Of late, I have been feeling like one of these animals as I deal with the culture shock around us.  In one example, it has taken over 24 hours of talking to experts in a financial software firm trying to convince them where a problem lay and what must be done to fix it.  That has taken over two years.  Last week I was notified that the creative team were working on that exact “patch” and that they would fix my problem with it.

In another example, I have been complaining to an educational institution that the “class roster” needed to be cleansed of those names who never graduated.  Been doing that every 5 years for the past 25 years.  Deaf ears on both sides…mine and theirs.  They had a fund raising roster of many students who had attended and I was reading those who had graduated…alive, dead, or missing.  Feel like and ass when you must threaten to get results.

I can repeat stories multiple times for different arenas…all the same.  The left and right hands are not shaking together…in almost all cases they must shake across vast oceans and hemispheres.  In the beginning, 1982, I bought our first home computer.  The next January, I bought the company’s stock after the unveiling of it’s new product.  We needed very little technical support back then.  Now I am on the phone for 2 hour consults to solve simple problems…passwords, id’s, program conflicts…no one remembers “if it Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix it!”.

Whine, Whine, Whine…

So I feel like some of my sister’s animals too often these days.

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