What do a dinosaur and the tech world have in common? Absolutely nothing

I am really starting to develop a complex in regard to my ability to communicate with people and businesses when it comes to electronic devices.

Part of the problem is I just don’t have the patience to learn the finer skills of downloading and following symbols and vague instructions on various apps. These are skills my children and grandchildren find routine, while I, on the other hand, came late to the technology game and continue to strike out. I am envious of those who can sit down at a computer or pull their iPhone out of their pocket and summon the whole world to their fingertips.

This was never more evident than it was last month when I sat down at the computer and tried to purchase football tickets for the upcoming season. Of course, the only way to purchase them is online. At least the tickets were for college games, so the task was a little more acceptable than it is when I try to get tickets to our local high school sports events. Most of the time I could easily drive to these venues and buy tickets at the gate or door in half the time it takes to order and pay for the said tickets online.

In any case, after several of us, including some who are actually tech literate, had spent most of the morning trying to order tickets, we gave up. We had used up our 15-minute time limit many times and never were able to get the tickets in our cart to the checkout. Even I, having done very little shopping in my time, know the cart has to go through the checkout line before you can take your items out the door. It was time to call in the troops.

We admitted defeat and called the ticket office. Inserting terms like pen name, email address and cart into the conversation, I persuaded the person there I knew what I was trying to do and he agreed to help. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do it either. There was a glitch in the system. He finally completed the transaction, but only after taking some round about ways we weren’t privy to, plus another half hour of our morning. Am I so wrong in thinking it was much easier to put a check in an envelope and drop it in the mailbox to purchase the tickets?

But this ordeal was nothing compared to my next day task of trying to cancel our house landline. We finally decided to join the other more than 70% of the population who live without one. We didn’t use it and the only calls coming in were from health suppliers, scammers and those who wanted to make our funerals less expensive. I checked the last landline statement to find a phone number for the phone company. There was none. Doesn’t it seem strange to you that no business requests with a phone company can be completed using a phone?

This time, my wife decided to help. Finding no phone numbers online either, she spent the next 20 minutes in live chat with a robot who had not been programmed to do anything but provide links for service or payment questions. Then when she mentioned I was writing a newspaper article about the pros and cons of landlines, a more lively, or maybe more lifelike entity named Joy entered the chat.

She must have been listening because she became pretty concerned about answering the questions. Joy seemed better able to decode our queries and eventually provided a customer service number that hadn’t been found elsewhere, either on paper or online. This number took me to a real person who gave me all the reasons to keep the landline and offered significant savings plans but finally filled out the order to disconnect.

I admit I am a dinosaur living in the world of technology, but am I living in the Twilight Zone? No phone number for a phone company? I am doing my best and I hope people will continue to have patience with me as I attempt to “save time and effort” with all the apps and somewhat vague instructions and symbols needed to survive and communicate in today's world.

Chuck Bell is a former 4-H Educator in Muskingum County.

This article originally appeared on Zanesville Times Recorder: The tech world is out of reach for a dinosaur like me