I am a Luddite 

AI – my new friend for every question under the sun – gives the definition of “luddite” as someone who is opposed or resistant to new technology, automation or technological change. The term comes from 19th-century English textile workers who protested automated factory machinery. They named themselves after Ned Ludd, a legendary folk hero who supposedly smashed weaving equipment in a fit of rage. 

Today, people use the word as a general label for anyone who dislikes, avoids or resists modern innovations like smartphones, artificial intelligence or automated systems. For sure, count me in this week.

Saturday Night-Tech Crisis #1

The cable, the damn cable, to my Apple iPad was missing! Without it I’d have limited time until the iPad needed to be recharged. It’s attached to my hip for emails, playing games or watching Netflix shows that do not interest Ken. 

I searched high and low for that cable. I knew it was put away with the turned off iPad on Friday afternoon. On Saturday night, instead of being on a bookshelf, it was missing.

It was time to search the internet for a replacement. Amazon had a variety of no-name Chinese cables to pick from. On Apple’s website, the price of the cable plus the power adapter (sold separately on Apple) was over $25 not including shipping. Amazon’s price for cables plus adapters began at $10 with free next-day delivery. It was a no-brainer to order from Amazon.

I had a dream!

I went to bed mad and upset. Where the heck was that cable? Then, I had an epiphany in the middle of the night. Eli, who spent Shabbat with us, must have borrowed it. He always forgets his cable when he comes over and borrows one.

Since he slept downstairs, the cable was probably in the basement. First thing Sunday morning, I ran downstairs. No, the cable was not near the TV where we keep a pile of extension and miscellaneous cords. Perhaps it was in the basement bedroom where Eli sleeps. Then, I spotted it! It was on a card table near the washing machine! My cord, I found my cord! Later that day Eli apologized via text that he “forgot to tell me” he borrowed it.

The return

As promised, Amazon delivered the replacement cord Sunday afternoon. I debated whether to keep it as a back-up but decided not to. Luckily, Amazon makes returns easy. One goes to one’s account, clicks “orders” and clicks on the return option. By default, our zip code’s return store is Whole Foods. The second drop-off option is the Pikesville Staples two miles away. Whole Foods is almost four miles away. Another no-brainer. I’d go Monday morning, first thing.

By 8:45 Monday morning, I was in line at the Amazon return desk at Staples. Naturally, the lady in front of me had “problems” and her simple, easy drop-off took 10 minutes. Then it was my turn, finally.

“Mumble, mumble, mumble,” said the clerk.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“You have to take this to Whole Foods,” he remumbled.

Whole Foods! Darn it; I neglected to select Staples as my return store! There was no way I was schlepping to Whole Foods. Therefore, it was back home to cancel return #1 (not such an easy process) and arrange for return #2 at Staples. That errand would have to wait until Thursday, the only day I could get to Staples.

Wednesday-Tech Crisis #2

Tuesday night I said to Ken, “By the way, I’m not cooking dinner Wednesday night. We’ll have to order takeout.” He was okay with that, but we were tired of takeout from the nearby (five blocks) Accent’s Grill. I suggested we order from a new kosher restaurant in Owings Mills, Yossef’s Laffah Milia. Friends and I had lunch there recently, and the food was delicious. The restaurant is six plus miles away, so we decided to splurge on delivery. We didn’t want to compete with the commuter traffic on Reisterstown Road during the dinner hour.

We picked out what we wanted from the menu. I logged on to the website and placed an order, paying with my credit card. However, there was no delivery option on the website. I called them, and an employee told me to use DoorDash or GrubHub. 

We’ve never used either one, but I picked DoorDash. Things fell apart when going on their website. DoorDash has lots of information on its home page, and navigating that was trial and error. Finally, I found the search icon and typed in Yosseff’s Laffa Milia. Nowhere on the website could I find how to contact DoorDash to let them know about the order I had just placed through the restaurant. Nor was there information about delivery costs. Instead, the restaurant menu popped up to order from.

But wait! I just ordered food directly through the restaurant. Now what? AI to the rescue. I asked it, “How do I let DoorDash know about my order that has already been paid for?” AI provided a 1-800 customer service number. Way to go AI!

The customer service menu voice mail had three options. “Press 1 if you need XXX. Press 2 if you need YYY. Press 3 if you need AAA.” 

“Speak to an agent!” eventually got a human on the line but I couldn’t understand a word the customer service agent said due to his heavy accent. After about 10 minutes of getting nowhere, I gave up, said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

Solution #1

Back to AI. I asked it (she, him, her?) my problem and up popped a page offering technical help, of course, via a bot. It asked me about the problem and then wrote back it would find a tech partner to help. However, before the tech partner joined in, I was asked to pay a “refundable” $5 for the help. Another screen appeared, with a form asking for my name, phone number and credit card information.

The five bucks was worth it, so I filled in the form. My credit card number and expiration date are saved on my laptop. About an hour prior, I made two donations to non-profits without any problems using that credit card. The only thing I need when paying online with a credit card is to click “this card,” and everything but the three-digit code automatically fills in. 

When filling in the three-digit code on this form, I got an error message. “Credit card denied,” or something like that. I tried it four times, and the same error message came up. Rolling my eyes, I closed down the page.

Solution #2

Maybe calling the restaurant would be more fruitful. Maybe a human could straighten this out. I dialed. When somebody answered, I decided to be a bit proactive. 

“Hi. This is your dumb question of the day. I placed and paid for my order online with you, not realizing that the order has to go through DoorDash. How do I let DoorDash know that someone has to pick up my order?”

Very nicely and kindly she replied, “No question is dumb. I’m at the register, so I’ll put you on hold after waiting on this customer and call you back.” Click went the phone. It sounded as if she hung up instead of putting me on hold.

I held the silent phone to my ear for a minute or two, then decided to call back. Another very polite employee picked up. After explaining my problem, he said I’d have to order through DoorDash. “I’ll refund your order. No problem.” He put me on hold, and the first lady I spoke to picked up the phone and apologized! 

Shortly thereafter, the refund was on my online bank statement. Problem solved. 

I called out to Ken, “I have to reorder everything, this time on DoorDash. What did you want to eat?”

“Forget it,” he replied. “Let’s order what we always get from Accent’s Grill – grilled chicken wraps, no onions or mayo. You order and I’ll go pick it up.” 

As noted above, Accent’s Grill is five blocks away. Easy-peasy. Who needs DoorDash?

Please leave your comments below.

Read more by Eileen Creeger.