Long before Tinder was a thing, I went out on a computer date. Turns out our fleeting, star-crossed love affair was doomed from the start. The computer concluded we were a perfect match. The computer was wrong.
This is a true story about the shortest date in my life. Now, technically you could make the case that my wife was my shortest date, given that she tops out at 5 feet 0 inches.
But I’m not talking about the shortest person I ever dated. No, I mean the shortest date in terms of hours… um, make that minutes. Because my shortest date lasted exactly 37 minutes. Despite its brevity, this date still doesn’t rank as my worst date. That would be another date you can read about.
As much as this may come as a shock to some of my readers, I was not exactly a Ladies’ Man in my youth. That’s because I went to a private all-boys’ military prep school from grades one through twelve. I had literally no interaction with girls, and thus virtually no dating experience, until I headed off to college.
In my first year at the University of Virginia, the dorm I was assigned to was an upperclassmen dorm, because they’d run out of space in the freshmen dorms. I lacked the self-confidence and charisma to approach any of the female upperclassmen in my dorm for a date. I asked out precisely one girl during my freshman year, named Jocelyn. She was a cute girl in my Astronomy class. But when I asked her out in October, she replied (and I will never forget her exact words): “I’m going to be pretty busy until April.” To this day I regret not having the presence of mind to come back with, “I hear you. I’m pretty busy, too. How’s the month of May looking?” So, no, we never went out.
I actually did have one date my freshman year. My dorm-mates, always up for a fun practical joke at my expense, decided to enter my name – without telling me – into a computer dating dance party. To participate, you filled out a form with information about yourself, your personality, likes, etc., which information was fed into a computer database. It then matched you up with another student the algorithm determined was compatible with you. Like a primitive version of Tinder but without the ability to swipe right.
A week later, I received a notification that I had been matched up with a computer date. WTF?? How did this happen? Then realizing that I had had roughly about as much sex in my freshman year as a neutered Boston Terrier, I decided to “go with the flow” and see where this unexpected opportunity might lead.
The rules explained you were supposed to meet your match prior to the actual event. Her name was Judy Spivey, from Suffolk, Virginia. When I knocked on her door, she immediately greeted me with an almost guilty look on her face.
I quickly determined why she had that almost guilty look on her face. Because after ten minutes of mindless, mundane conversation about “what are your favorite hobbies” and “what’s your major,” my soon-to-be date dropped this bomb: “Tim, you probably should know something before we go out on this date. I’m engaged.”
“I’m sorry. You’re engaged? Engaged in what?” I replied, pretending not to understand what she’d just said.
“I have a fiancé,” she clarified. “We both decided to enter our names in this computer dating thing, just to see what kind of people we would get paired up with. We meant it as a joke.”“Wow. Hilarious. So, I’m the joke, is that it?” I thought to myself, realizing this was a complete waste of my time.
“I got paired up with you,” my not-so-dream date sheepishly explained.
“Oh, I see. And who did your future husband get paired up with?” I asked, barely hiding my annoyance.
“He didn’t.” [Insert long, extremely awkward pause….] “But we both agreed that I should go through with this date” – like it was her civic responsibility, like jury duty – just an unpleasant commitment she’d have to endure, spending an evening with me.
The dance was two days later. I knocked on her door. She was dressed in a knee-length red dress. I was wearing my finest lavender corduroy bell-bottom slacks and matching red-and-blue striped shirt, with what in retrospect was a way too wide white tie (hey, give me a break, I went to a military school, so I had zero fashion sense).
After we arrived at the dance, we sat nervously for about fifteen minutes, sipping our Diet Cokes as I struggled to keep the conversation going with cliched questions like “Do, you think Uva will have a good basketball team this year?” and “So, how did you and your fiancé meet?”
Before long, I noticed Judy kept diverting her glance to something in the distance. Make that, someone. Who was she looking at? Now, don’t get ahead of me. Then she looked back at me, noticeably agitated, and said, “Pardon me, I’ll be right back.”
In case you were thinking I made up this entire story, I did not. This is a photo of my computer date from our college’s book that showed the names and faces of all the incoming freshmen.
She headed off to talk with the person in the distance. You guessed it. Her fiancé had been watching us the entire time. In retrospect, it probably was the right call not to try to slow dance with her in front of her future husband. Decades later, I still remember Judy’s words when she returned to our table: “Would you like to see World War Three begin? Or would you like for this date to be over right now?”
If this had happened today, the far more self-confident, wise-cracking version of me would have grinned and said, “Thanks for giving me a choice. I think I’ll go with the first option, Judy.” But the shy, freshman college student version of me instead said, ”I understand. I wish you both the best of luck.” What a wimp. Then I looked at my watch. 37 minutes had elapsed since the start of our first and last date. As I plodded back to my dorm, it occurred to me that I could have stayed in my room and watched an entire episode of Hawaii Five-O. It would have lasted much longer than my date.
Now and then I look back on our surreal, aborted courtship and wonder whatever happened to Judy. I tried to look her up on Facebook but without success. I will never know. But I like to imagine her future without me. Maybe – just maybe – she had a miserable, tumultuous marriage, and her husband left her for a younger woman he found on Tinder. That makes me smile.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Thanks to my new Google Kindness Translator, Davie is about to avoid a nasty fight with his roomie Brad. Davie texted into the Kindness Translator on his phone: “If u don’t clean up yr trash tonight, I’m throwing u out.” But the message Brad got was, “Bro wanna do za for dnr?” Problem avoided – well, for the moment anyway.
You have probably heard of one of the great game changer apps called Google Translate. You can type or say anything into your phone and with the press of a button, Google Translate instantly converts your words into your choice from more than 130 languages, even Sanskrit.
A few years ago, I wrote about a handy upgrade of this service called Google Translate – Family Edition. It’s perfect for helping parents understand what their teenage son actually means when he grunts one-word replies like “whatever” or “dude” to your question, “When do you plan to do your homework, Nathan?”
I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve almost finished developing an even more powerful version of Google Translate. I think it’s going to be another game changer for kids and adults alike. I call it the Google Kindness Translator. It takes one person’s abusive or argumentative language and, with the press of a button on your phone, converts it into a kinder, more sensitive alternative translation, thereby turning a potentially acrimonious confrontation into a harmonious dialogue.
I came up with my idea in the most unlikely of situations: during a racquetball game. I’ve played with the same group of guys for several years. They’re all great people – well, except for Fred, that is. (Fred is a curmudgeon.) Sometimes, one of the fellows will blurt out something in the heat of the moment he really didn’t mean. That’s when things can quickly get a little chippy.
It all started when Roger hit the ball full force, and it accidentally plunged into the small of Larry’s back. Larry, suddenly in excruciating pain, shouted out, well, I’d rather not print what came out of his mouth. Let’s just say I’m glad no impressionable young kids were within earshot.
Then Larry glared at Roger and complained, “That hurt like the dickens dude! Look where you’re hitting the ball!” To which Roger snarkily replied, “Well, you shouldn’t have been standing in the way of my shot.” Larry was just about to hurl some inflammatory words back in Roger’s face when I quickly intervened: “Larry, when Roger said that you shouldn’t have been standing in the way of his shot, what he meant to say was ‘Oh my, I am deeply sorry I hit you. Are you okay, buddy? Please accept my apology.’ “
Roger looked at me a bit confused, but then Larry said to Roger, “It’s okay. These things happen.” And tempers cooled down quickly. (This really happened as described.) That’s when I saw the potential for a new app that translates angry words into kind ones. I think this could be the next killer app. My new Kindness Translator is still in beta. But check out these extremely encouraging translations from some of my test subjects.
Eleanor is having a nasty shouting match with her daughter Nina. If only Eleanor had tried my Kindness Translator before screaming, “As long as you live in MY house, you’ll do as I tell you, you little self-absorbed prima donna snot!” The app would have converted her harangue into “Nina, I deeply apologize for not being more clear in my expectations. That’s my fault. What I was trying to say is, would you be open to scooping the litter box, since, after all, Buttons is your cat? What do you say? Love you.”
A husband was about to tell his wife, “Seriously, how much longer will you be before you pick an outfit? JUST PICK ONE, for Christ’s sake. It’s been 45 minutes and you’re still trying on blouses. None of them are going to make you look slim, okay? We’re going to be late for the party – as usual.”
But instead, he quietly spoke those words into the Kindness Translator app on his phone, pressed a button, and voilà . His wife heard instead, “Honey, gosh you look fantastic in any of the eleven outfits you’ve tried on. But just take your time. I’d rather be standing here in our walk-in closet with you than at that silly New Year’s Eve party, anyway. I love you.” And with a press of a button, their marriage was saved – for another evening at least.
A retiree had been patiently waiting for seven minutes for another driver to back out of their parking spot, so he could pull into it. But just as he was about to pull in, another driver came racing in from nowhere and took his spot. As the parking spot stealer exited his car, the retiree was preparing to get up in his grill and bark, “Hey, buddy. I was here first. I’ve been sitting here for the past seven minutes waiting for this spot to open up. So, find another spot, or the next parking spot you’ll be looking for is at the Emergency Room.”
But in a moment of clear thinking, he whispered into the Kindness Translator I had installed on his phone instead. Out came a much more restrained message: “Gosh, I had been hoping to take that spot. But kudos to you for being so quick on the accelerator. Are you a professional racecar driver? Hope you find the perfect gift you’re looking for at the mall, sir. Have a nice day.” No one got hurt. And no cars got keyed. Problem avoided.
My new Kindness Translator is in beta. It still has a few bugs. For example, I tried employing it at a recent Trump rally. I pointed my phone at Trump as he went on one of his usual incoherent, rambling rants: “I’m a very stable genius. Only I can save America. I’m smarter than all the generals. Blacks love me. I don’t have a racist bone in my body.”
But the translation came out as follows: “I’m a total moron, a vengeful narcissist, and a bigot. I lost the election and lied about it. Give me all your money.” On second thought, maybe the app is working just fine.
I still have a lot of work to do before this becomes available to the public. I’m convinced my killer app will bring people closer together and maybe help our divided nation heal some of its longstanding wounds – or at the very least help me talk my way out of a future speeding ticket.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Author’s Introduction: Everywhere in the news I’ve been reading about how Artificial Intelligence (AI) and programs like ChatGPT will be eliminating thousands of jobs in countless industries. Thanks to recent advances in AI, fashion magazines can create images of fashion models that are so realistic, there may soon be no need for human models. Writers and actors are on strike right now in part because of very real fears that artificial intelligence will make their jobs obsolete. Why pay a few hundred background actors thousands of dollars when movie producers now can just create digital fakes to accomplish the same thing? Why hire writers when ChatGPT can write a complex script in minutes?
It got me to thinking. Is MY job as a humor writer at risk? You tell me. The other day, I asked ChatGPT to “write a satirical humor article about being an American man married to a Canadian woman in the style of Tim Jones’s View From the Bleachers humor website.”(My wife is Canadian.) … and this is what it came up with:
Title: “Oh, Canada! A Puckishly American Man’s Misadventures in Maple Leaf Matrimony”
Greetings, hockey fans and puck heads alike! Today, I’d like to share my unique experience as a proud American man married to a delightful Canadian woman, affectionately known as my “maple syrup sweetheart.” Strap on your helmets and get ready for a journey through the quirks and charms of cross-border romance.
Firstly, let me confess that I thought I was marrying just any other woman. Little did I know, I was committing myself to a lifetime of bilingual conversations and excessive apologies. Yes, you heard me right, folks–Canadians apologize for everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if they say “sorry” for breathing. But hey, as an American, I’ve got thick skin and a whole lot of misunderstanding to embrace.
Let’s talk about the cultural differences, shall we? I thought I was up to date with Canadian customs, what with my ice hockey obsession and my newfound love for maple syrup. But apparently, I was as clueless as a Zamboni driver on roller skates.
For starters, there’s the language barrier. No, we don’t speak entirely different languages, but it’s close enough. She’d ask me if I want to grab a double-double at Tim Hortons, and I’d wonder if she wanted me to join her for an espresso and some multiplication tables. Turns out, it’s just coffee with double cream and double sugar. Simple, eh?
Oh, and the food! Canadians have some bizarre concoctions that defy logic. Poutine is a greasy dish of fries smothered in cheese curds and gravy–because heart attacks should be delicious, right? And don’t even get me started on ketchup chips. Seriously, I never knew tomatoes and potatoes were such a match made in heaven.
Speaking of heaven, I’ve learned that Canadian winters are practically a pilgrimage for any self-respecting Canuck. They bundle up in parkas that make them look like walking igloos and carry enough hot chocolate to keep an army warm. Meanwhile, I’m shivering like a Chihuahua caught in a snowstorm, wondering why they don’t just move somewhere sensible–like Florida.
Now, let’s talk sports. I’ve always been a die-hard American football fan, but my Canadian wife has successfully converted me into a hockey enthusiast. I must admit, watching grown men chase a tiny black puck on ice is oddly entertaining. Plus, there’s the bonus of watching players’ teeth fly out like confetti during a fight. It’s like an episode of “American Ninja Warrior” but with blades on their feet.
Of course, every country has its politics, and the Great White North is no exception. The Canadian political landscape is like watching a sitcom on steroids. I can’t tell if their politicians are genuinely nice or just putting on a show. But hey, they’re so polite that even when they criticize someone, it sounds like they’re reading a bedtime story.
On a more serious note, though, I have to give Canada credit for its healthcare system. My wife brags about not having to sell our house if she breaks a nail. Meanwhile, I’m stuck navigating the labyrinthine maze of American insurance claims just to get an Advil.
Despite our humorous cultural misunderstandings and occasional icy banters, being married to a Canadian woman is a truly eye-opening experience. She’s taught me the beauty of poutine, the joys of apologizing incessantly, and that love knows no borders.
So, if you’re an American man considering walking down the aisle with a Canadian beauty, remember, you’ll need to embrace their unique charm, adapt to their lingo, and learn to love hockey. But hey, it’s all worth it for the joy of sharing your life with someone who can make you laugh, even when you’re stuck in a polar vortex.
Eh?
Author’s Closing Note: This entire piece (except for my intro and this closing paragraph) was written by ChatGPT. Scary, isn’t it? That said, I would know in a heartbeat I didn’t write this piece as I would NEVER in a million years recommend someone “move somewhere sensible – like Florida.“ Now, I already hear your internal gears working. So let me stop you, okay? Please don’t post a snarky comment about how “THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU’VE WRITTEN IN AGES!” Sigh…
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m …. Out of a job.
ChatGPT and the other leading AI Chatbot applications are radically changing how we communicate and gain information. For example, I used ChatGPT to suggest this caption which you are reading right now. Isn’t that amazing? (Okay, I lied. But I had you wondering, didn’t I?)
Technology futurists have been predicting for decades that AI (Artificial Intelligence) would eventually overhaul how we do our jobs, how we travel, and even how we engage in sex. But I’d rather not delve into my brother-in-law’s fascination with his AI robot girlfriend, the Monica XL-400. I still don’t understand their relationship, to be honest.
In recent months tremendous advances in AI have taken place, particularly with the introduction of something called AI chatbots. The one getting the most press coverage is ChatGPT from Open AI. So what, exactly, is ChatGPT? The GPT is short for generative pre-trained transformer. I am sure you found that explanation as helpful as I did. But as best as I can explain it, it is simply an AI-powered chatbot. We’ve all seen chatbots before. You know, those annoying online chat programs where you type in a request like, “Can I talk to someone in customer service?” and the chatbot replies, “Hello, I’m Brad. How can I help you?” And then you reply, “I just need to talk to a LIVE person,” and it replies, “Hello, I’m Brad. How can I help you?”
The technology of these AI chatbots is actually quite impressive. Just log onto one of these websites, type in any conceivable topic you’d like information about, and voilà ! Within seconds, this AI program will compose a written response in surprising detail, crafted in such a way that it is almost impossible to tell that it was not written by a person.
ChatGPT, Chatfuel, Drift, MobileMonkey, and the slightly creepily named chatbot program, It’s Alive, are all exploding in popularity because they’re free and anyone can use them. If you know how to type and spell, you’re good to go – which is why my cat Zippy will most likely never use any of these programs, because the last time I checked, he still lacked opposable thumbs or any comprehension of what his name was.
Now, for the first time, there are utilities that will answer virtually any question in enormous detail. Sure, Amazon’s Alexa and Apple’s Siri do sort of the same thing, but the latest evolution of AI apps has taken everything to an entirely new stratosphere, as these chatbots can now use artificial intelligence tools to produce detailed text, images, sounds, and even videos that look and feel like they were created by humans.
Popular applications of this breakthrough technology include using it to write press releases and legal briefs, and helping to ensure that thousands of hardworking tech support and customer service employees all over the world will lose their jobs forever.
The line between actual humans and AI is getting more and more blurry. See this robot? She’s incredibly smart. You find her kind of sexy, don’t you? Then you’ve been spending way too much time online. Please put away your phone and play pickleball. You’re starting to worry me.
But probably the source of greatest controversy is the use of these programs to write high school and college term papers. You’re probably asking yourself, can a chatbot really craft a term paper that could fool a teacher? You be the judge. We asked a high school senior and ChatGPT the same question: “Who was George Washington?” Below are their responses. See if you can guess which response was written by Jordan Carruthers, a senior at Garfield High School, and which was provided by ChatGPT.
ChatGPT or Jordan Carruthers?
George Washington (1732-1799) was an American political leader, military general, and Founding Father of the United States. He played a crucial role in the American Revolution, leading the Continental Army to victory over the British and securing American independence. After the war, Washington was a key figure in the drafting of the U.S. Constitution and became the first President of the United States in 1789. He is often referred to as the “Father of His Country” for his leadership in both the military and political spheres, and his commitment to establishing a strong, stable government for the newly-formed United States. Washington’s legacy as a leader and statesman has been widely celebrated throughout American history.
ChatGPT or Jordan Carruthers?
George Washington chopped down a maple tree and had wooden teeth. He was very tall and wore a white wig. He stood in the front of a rowboat crossing a river in wintertime. That’s very dangerous, as he could have fallen overboard and drowned. He’s the guy on the one dollar bill. Did I mention he was tall? We get the day off every year on his birthday, so he must have been a fairly important dude.
Who wrote which version? It’s hard to tell, I know. Believe it or not, the first response was supplied by ChatGPT. But in fairness, Jordan Carruthers is a lazy idiot who’s probably not going to graduate on time. Of course, experts are concerned students may cheat and use ChatGPT to complete their term papers for them. This is a serious issue, and I, for one, am furious… that this technology was not available for me to use when I was in college back in the 1970s. So unfair.
Besides the obvious ethical concerns of the potential for widespread automated plagiarism, there are other significant challenges yet to be worked out. This technology has been shown, on occasion, to provide wildly inaccurate answers to questions – which could be problematic if you’re, say, a heart surgeon and you just asked the AI chatbot what to do next in a delicate coronary angioplasty and stent implantation, and the chatbot directs you to surgically attach the patient’s left leg to his right shoulder blade. Oops.
Another disturbing challenge in the rapid deployment of AI chatbots is that they can quickly become a**holes. Let me explain. AI chatbots are essentially highly sophisticated robot parrots. They quickly learn to assimilate knowledge – and opinions – based on the input they receive from the humans interacting with them. Before long, they start repeating the sentiments of their users.
The latest AI chatbot programs can even mimic the writing style of the greatest writers in history, like Shakespeare. However, ChatGPT, trying to emulate the Bard’s famous quote from Hamlet, wrote, “Am I or aren’t I: this is an interrogatory.” So, nice try, but not quite.
So, imagine the tech team’s surprise when Microsoft launched its cutting-edge AI chatbot program called Tay. Twitter users conversing with Tay started tweeting the bot with a barrage of vitriol, including misogynistic and racist comments laced with offensive expletives. Within hours, Tay’s R-rated commentary started to make Donald Trump look like Mother Teresa. Guess it’s back to the drawing board, Microsoft.
I can appreciate that there are still a few bugs to work out before ChatGPT and the other AI chatbots become widespread in their adoption. But I for one am excited about the future potential. In fact, I am so impressed with these chatbots that I decided to use ChatGPT to compose this week’s entire column. From now on, instead of wasting seven exhausting hours working on my next column, I’ll just have an AI chatbot compose it. You can find me at the gym on the elliptical.
Next week’s topic: “The history of baseball.” I can’t wait to see what ChatGPT comes up with. I’m sure it will be compelling reading. I just hope it won’t be way better written than my usual columns.
That’s the view from the bleachers. I might be off base. If so, blame it on ChatGPT.
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One of my greatest pleasures is spending countless hours waiting in vain for a customer service rep to help me with something that should have taken ten minutes but will ultimately suck several hours of my time. Ah, the joys of waiting on hold.
[The following is a true story, with no exaggeration, of the time I spent over five hours trying to get help from a tech support representative. – TEJ]
I had completed what I hoped was my final draft of my newest humor book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. I was using Amazon’s publishing division called Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP). I had compiled a list of questions to which I needed answers in order to fix several book formatting issues their online system had flagged.
I decided I needed to call their tech support team for help. I located their CONTACT US page in less than 12 minutes simply by navigating through an endless series of menus that required me to answer several series of questions until the website finally unlocked the secret passageway to its elusive CONTACT US page.
This page offered me several options: I could submit an email (“please allow 72 hours for a response”). I could initiate an online chat (probably with a web bot). I could pour through their voluminous online community forum containing scores of article links, none of which would be directly on point. Or I could request a call back from a tech support agent. I think I’ll go with Option D.
I clicked the button to have a tech support agent call me. Twenty minutes later my phone rang. The readout indicated the call was from Amazon / KDP. Oddly, it only rang once and then the call dropped. I tried to call back the number on my phone, but I reached an automated message: “We’re not able to accept incoming calls to this number. Please visit our website to request a call back.”
I then navigated the maze back to the CONTACT US page. I clicked on the button to request a call back – again. That triggered this message: “Our records indicate that you have already requested a call back. Please wait until you receive that call.” Arrgh!
I waited thirty minutes. No success. I clicked on the “Call me” button again. Up popped the same notification as before. Feeling stymied, I tried their online CHAT to request a phone call. Within a minute Agent Adrian generically typed, “How can I help you?”
I explained that I had requested a call, then the call dropped after one ring and the system would not allow me to make another call request. “Could you just tell someone in your tech support department to call me?” I pleaded.
Agent Adrian typed back, “I’m sorry but this CHAT feature does not allow us to talk by phone with the customer.”
“I know that,” I wrote back, frustrated. “I get how online chat works.” I pounded away at the keyboard, trying again to explain my dilemma and that I just wanted to have someone from their tech team call me.
Then, like a broken record, Agent Adrian, who by now I was fairly certain was a bot, typed, “I’m sorry but this CHAT feature does not allow us to call the customer.” Instead he / it offered to help me via their web-based chat utility. I wrote back that I had literally 20 questions and I doubted he / it would be able to respond to all of them via chat. But he / it insisted that they were happy to be of service.
See this happy, chirpy fellow? This is Adrian, or Brad, or Bart. This friendly support agent will be happy to assist you via online chat. He’ll be polite and responsive, usually replying to your questions within 5 minutes. There’s just one thing he won’t be able to do: Solve your problem. Because he’s a bot.
I copied and pasted my long list of questions into the chat message field and pressed SEND. Seven minutes later, the Agent Adrian bot resurfaced: “I’m sorry, but you will need to talk to a member of our tech support team. You can request a call back by visiting our website. Thank you.” He / it then abruptly closed out our session. WTF??
I then noticed that during the time I was bonding with the Agent Adrian bot, I had received an email from KDP tech support:
“This is Jennifer from KDP customer support. You had requested a call, but I called and there was no answer. If you would like to speak with a representative, you can visit our website to request a call back.”
Seriously? I guessed that enough time had elapsed to take a chance and try clicking on the “Call me” button again. I guessed wrong: “Our records indicate that you have already requested a call back. Please wait until you receive that call.”
I tried using the online chat app again. After I explained my situation and implored them to have someone from their tech support team call me directly, the Agent Paul bot offered this by now very familiar feedback: “I’m sorry but this CHAT feature does not allow us to talk by phone with the customer.”
The website referred to this as their Customer Service department. But as I reflect back on my experience, I think “Customer Severance” department” would have been a more appropriate name. Then the Agent Paul bot, no doubt programmed to follow the tech support chat protocol handbook to the letter, offered to try to help me via Chat. I explained – again – that I really needed to talk to a LIVE PERSON BY PHONE!
Finally, Agent Paul relented and agreed to try to find someone to call me. I’m pretty sure Agent Paul was going to be summarily fired for violating Online Chat Policy Rule #1: Never let the customer talk to a live human being. Or perhaps he’ll just be rebooted and upgraded to a more recent security protocol.
An hour went by. Noone called. So I tried their “Call me” option one more time. This time, to my surprise, it accepted my request. Twenty minutes later, I received a call from KDP tech support. Interestingly, one minute later, while on the phone with KDP tech support, I received another call – also from KDP tech support. Not wanting to risk my first call dropping, I ignored the second incoming KDP call. I went into great detail describing my issues. Then I asked Agent Maria, “Maria, do you understand my situation?”
Agent Maria did not respond. I repeated my question – four more times. No reply – unless you consider the dial tone that followed to be Maria’s reply. The call got dropped. Crap! I saw that there was another email from KDP tech support. It said they had just tried to call me but I had failed to pick up.
I went back to the KDP website’s CONTACT US page. When I tried to request yet another call back, yup, you guessed it: “Our records indicate that you have already requested a call back. Please wait until you receive that call.”
It went on like this for another hour. Finally, I received another call from KDP tech support. This time the call did not drop. This time I was actually able to present all my questions to an actual live person. After describing my problems in exhausting detail for 10 minutes, tech support Agent Thomas paused and explained: “I’m in first level tech support. I can’t help you with your issues. You’ll need to talk to someone in Senior Level tech support. Would you like me to transfer you?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be most curious to see what rabbit hole this sends me down,” I muttered under my breath. Agent Thomas put me on hold. Ten minutes later someone came back on the line: “This is Thomas again. Would you still like to continue to wait to speak to a Senior Level support agent?”
“Um, yes, I would. Thank you.”
“Okay, please hold.” The next sound I heard was the soothing, familiar melody of … of another dial tone. My call had been dropped. Again. It’s now been over five hours. I’m still waiting to talk to someone about my issues. I’m sure they’ll be calling me back… any moment now.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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This is a photo of my family. Turns out that like our two daughters, who we adopted from China as infants, there is one more person in this picture from China. Read about my fascinating, life-changing heritage discovery.
My parents named me Timothy Edward Jones, a boring Christian-sounding name. They were good people. They tried to raise me to become a decent, caring person. They sent me to very good high school and prepared me for college. My mom forced me to take piano lessons for four years, but I have long ago forgiven her for that.
But they lied to me. They never told me I was Chinese. I still can’t understand why they kept such a deep dark secret from me my entire life.
Don’t get me wrong. Some of my best friends are Chinese – including my two daughters, who we adopted from China as infants. I have nothing against Chinese people – other than their food. (I’m more of a meat and potatoes guy.)
23andMe estimated I was 50% German, 25% British Isles, 10% French, and 15% Ashkenazi Jew. But it turns out they lied too. Because I now know I’m definitely Chinese. The embarrassing thing is that as a Chinese person, I barely know any words of my own native tongue. I believe “xie xie” means “thank you,” and “Nǐ hǎo ma” means “how are you,” but that’s pretty much all the Chinese I know. Oh, wait. I also know “Namaste.” That’s Chinese, isn’t it? Ironically, many people tell me I’m almost fluent in English.
So how did I discover I’m Chinese, you might ask? Oddly enough, I have to give all the credit to Apple tech support, which broke the news to me. Not only that, but their website conclusively informed me that I am in fact a Chinese person currently living in China. You could have fooled me. I must live in the most American-themed community in the entire Middle Kingdom, as my homeland is sometimes called. Wait till I tell my next-door neighbors Brad and Tina that they live in China. They’re going to freak out. Unless they’re Chinese too. Hmm.
You might be thinking, “But, Tim, how do you know Apple is correct about your Chinese heritage – and current location?” Because Apple is never wrong – except when it comes to their GPS navigation system, Apple Maps. But that’s another topic.
I often receive emails from their iTunes store offering me special deals on music by the Bee Gees and Brad Paisley – two of my favorite artists, so they clearly know everything you need to know about me. In addition, my tech-savvy nephew buys everything Apple [iPhone, iPad, iWatch, iCar, iPet, etc.]. And he said that Apple has by far the best tech of any internet company. And my thirty-something nephew regularly reminds me he is never wrong.
Okay, perhaps I should back up a couple steps and explain how my racial / ethnic identity crisis started. The other evening, I wanted to watch the Apple TV show, Ted Lasso. All my friends told me it’s hilarious. So, I subscribed to Apple TV on my computer. Easy Peasy – almost. Then I attempted to sign in, using my Apple ID. That’s when I got the following message from Apple on my smart TV:
“Unsupported Region. The Apple TV app is not currently available in your country.”
Over the course of two hours and 37 minutes talking with Apple TV tech support, the agent figured out the problem: “According to our records, you live in China.” I began to protest, saying that I’ve lived in Washington state for the past 30 years. But then he walked me through how to get to my Apple ID’s settings to identify my location. Sure enough the system informed me that “This phone is registered to you as a Chinese Person living in China.” [That’s an exact quote.]
I explained to the tech support person that, to the best of my recollection, I currently live in the United States of America – unless my parents had been lying to me all this time, not to mention my wife, and all my racquetball buddies – all of whom look suspiciously Caucasian. I went on to explain that I did not think I could be Chinese because I had blue eyes and light brown hair – two genetic traits rarely found among Han Chinese people.
My refutations failed to make an impression on the tech support person, who calmly reiterated, “Our system shows you as a Chinese person living in China.”
After an hour of trying to prove to Apple’s website that I was in fact an extremely Caucasian man with male pattern baldness (another genetic trait rarely found among the Chinese) I hit a brick wall – I guess you could say the Great Wall of China. It turned out there was absolutely nothing the tech support person could do to help change the settings in my Apple ID to show that I was living in the USA instead of China.
According to both Apple tech support and eBay, my phone says that I am a Chinese person living in China. I feel so embarrassed. All these years, and I still barely know the language or like the food. I hope my glorious Chinese ancestors will someday find a way to forgive me.
Adding to my dilemma, it turned out my non-iPhone phone, which I purchased on eBay, apparently was somehow registered as having been created by a Chinese manufacturer and sold to a Chinese person in China.
I thought briefly about contacting eBay tech support to plead my case but after almost three hours of exhaustive troubleshooting with Apple without success, I finally gave up and accepted my new Asian identity. On the bright side, it will give me and our two Chinese-American daughters something else to talk about other than asking to borrow money. (I promise to pay them back soon.)
So, there you have it. Apparently I’ve been an imposter my entire life. Sadly, it appears I will never get to see Ted Lasso or any of the other popular Apple TV shows – at least not until they eventually become available here in China. I guess I should start brushing up on my Chinese, to prepare for the time when a dubbed version of Apple TV finally comes here. Xie xie.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook. 
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a 
