Real Estate, Technology, and REALTORS...Oh My!
Recently, I discovered a new app for my phone and laptop that was a convenient way to message and communicate with coworkers in my office. It's all about efficiency! When a real estate agent is with clients who ask if they know of a good tile guy, for example, a text to everyone on the distribution list nets quick results with coworkers recommendations. I embraced this app enthusiastically but when I went to download it, my phone's IOS (see how I use tech words?) was too antiquated for this app. I tried to download the latest 12.2 but my phone (did I mention 'antiquaited'?) wouldn't accept this update. Alas, it sighed and rolled over unwilling to talk about anything past 9.0. I was dejected. It was time to put my not-so-smart phone to rest and join the world of the shining new, huge-screened modern day babies that did everything except butter my toast for me. Gone were the days of making a phone call by punching in a number. Gone, too, were the days of being able to comfortably cradle a smart phone in the palm of my hand. Oh I fought it. I wanted to retain a small phone that I could hold while juggling car-keys, a lock box, brochures and/or MLS sheets, sun glasses, and/or reading glasses, all the while negotiating a stubborn door lock when showing clients through a home. I began to wonder what kind of tool belt I might need to strap on to show homes now. Oh wait...my oversized handbag might actually come back into use even though I had eschewed toting it around on showings.
Off I went to the phone store dragging my husband, Skip with me to look at the latest and greatest offerings. (I might mention here that we are a divided household. My husband is an Android system user touting the Samsung phone as a superior product while I have always been an iPhone user preferring the simplicity, the display, the features, and the fact that it works with most of the real estate apps that seemed to have been designed for IPhones.) We were greeted by a 10 year-old in tight jeans who suppressed a giggle as I brandished my 125 year old iPhone (Okay, perhaps I exaggerate a little) saying that I needed a new phone. She walked us over to the wall of phones to show us what was currently offered. I was still holding out for a small footprint in my palm when my eyes fell upon the latest and greatest of the iPhones. I heard celestial choirs as a sunbeams shone on the X series. The iPhone X and all of its versions sat there waiting to be taken for a spin, so to speak. I lifted one up and then another. I palmed them, touched them, cradled them and gasped at their touch, their feel, their slick design. I gasped again when I saw their price tag. What? WHAT?! Who pays that much to make a phone call? Ugh. I felt suddenly old. I looked at the young lady helping us and realized that she wasn't even born when I made my first phone call on a mobile phone.
Now, without making any disparaging remarks about the ability of our young friend to relate to the two dinosaurs who stood gaping at the assortment of phones, I must say that it was clearly assumed by her that we should actually know something about the phones, how they operated, and what all of the screen icons meant. She seemed content to punch things in on her tablet and then watch some inane movie that was playing on a big screen TV in the back of the store while Skip and I stood staring at the phones. I moved into her line of sight and asked a question to which I got a one word reply. Undaunted by her lack of interest I proceeded to ply her with questions finally deciding on the iPhone XR. This would serve me well even though I could feel my wallet grumbling angrily at me. When our purchase was complete we rushed home to transfer the data from my old phone to my new one. We had been instructed in brief sentences how to do this. Now, at home, I did what I had been told to do. Only...something was wrong. It didn't work. I tried again. I checked my cables, I checked my connections and once more tried to transfer data. Reluctantly, I called to Skip for assistance. (I must digress for a minute to explain that my reluctance to ask Skip for help is based upon the fact that we are both control freaks. If Skip takes over I lose all control of the project at hand. I don't mind giving up control when we are talking about cleaning toilets, but when it comes to something like setting up my smart phone or passwords, or things that I will use daily, it's a whole other story. I want to know what I am doing and only by doing it myself will I learn.) Anyway, back to my tale of woe. Skip began pulling at the cable and checking the connection to my laptop where I had opened the program to back up my phone. It was finally determined that I had a bad connection to the phone and further, that the power connection in my old phone was breaking.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I got a new phone just in time!" (Here was my justification for the new and pricey expenditure.)
I tried the program again with a tighter connection and was immediately prompted to download my photos to my laptop.
"No," Skip told me. "We need to save all of the apps and everything to the iTunes App."
I mused about the fact that I always thought that iTunes was a place to buy music but, well, I was obviously wrong. It was oh-so-much more. I continued to look at the iTunes program trying to figure out why it didn't prompt me with something...some means to transfer information. This frustrated me to the point that I finally had to succumb to calling for more assistance. Skip, who had settled into his comfortable armchair across the room to watch basketball had lost interest in my plight and suggested that I call 611 (which is the last resort in our household when all else fails.) A lovely lady named Mikki (from Tennessee, where it was sunny but cool, who just got a two-month-old German Shepherd puppy who wasn't old enough yet to be destructive but who her boyfriend said would begin to chew on things in her apartment any day now) was there to help me with my problem. Mikki and I became fast friends as the minutes wore on while we worked out the problem. The thing was that I had never actually installed iTunes on my laptop. Again, I remind the reader that 125 years ago when I first looked at the iTunes website I didn't see much need to have it on my (then) office PC but now, who remembered that I hadn't installed the program? Well, anyway, that was the whole problem and so, with Mikki waiting patiently on the other end of the call, I installed iTunes to my laptop. Oh yes...one other small glitch. I didn't know that Skip had changed the numerical passcode. I kept insisting on a number that Mikki said didn't work. Skip mumbled something in the background and Mikki said, "Um...did I just hear the correct number?" I gave Skip a murderous look remembering that he was fond of inventing new passwords and codes without telling me. He once changed a password on my computer and then left on a three-week business trip without remembering to tell me what he had done. I thought that there was something wrong with the computer and spent many frustrating hours trying to figure that out. So, when I hear that he had used another passcode number than the one I use, I said out loud, "UGH! I'm gonna kill my husband."
"You might not want to say that on a recorded call," Mikki suggested.
"I was just kidding, Mikki," I answered sheepishly. I then explained the reason and told her we had been married a long time and loved each other very much. It seemed to mollify Mikki who then told me how to proceed with my program. Just as the install was about to finish, Mikki suggested that I close all open windows on my laptop. I began exiting the myriad open screens and got a little to exit- happy realizing too late that I had exited the installing program before it had finished. Five minutes of waiting had been wasted. I groaned audibly and told Mikki what I had done and now knew for sure that she was thinking that I was inept and most likely a bubble past level (an expression I just learned from a friend. It's funny, right?) I began the download all over again. This time I asked, "Mikki, are you bored? I can sing to you while we wait."
"No thank you," she answered too quickly.
"Well, hey...how's the weather where you are?" (That's when I learned where she was living.) from there it was easy to strike up a conversation while we waited for the installation to be completed. When I had learned all about Mikki and the program was installed I was ready to go. We ran the backup with ease and before turning me loose, Mikki explained how to tra
nsfer the date to my new phone. I was good to go. Before saying'good-bye' Mikki gave me a phone number if I ran into any more issues. I noted that it wasn't a number where I would be able to reach her though. I looked at the clock and realized that it was past quitting time for poor Mikki who had patiently stayed on the phone through her coffee break and end-of-workday.
I will not bore the reader any further with my subsequent issues with Internet glitches that caused my transfer of apps to freeze up and the angst that caused. No, it prompted yet another humiliating call to the number that Mikki had provided to realize that my home network wasn't operating. Well at least it wasn't my shiny new phone that I now positioned in its place of honor on the table aside my laptop, my iPad, the TV remote, my earbuds, the charger, the cable, and of course my reading glasses. I am, after all, a technologically competent woman of the 21st century ready to serve my clients.
*Please note that no commercial endorsement of products and services was solicited nor (sadly) was there any profit made from my mention of the above mentioned products and services. However, my own service to you, the consumer is intentional and definitely solicited should you wish to contact me. Yes, you may call me on my new IPhone XR and hear the clarity of my voice as I say, "Hello, this is Jessica Bryan of Real Living Carolina Lifestyles Realty. How may I help you?"
~Jessica Bryan
(919) 272-0699
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