Some problems are doomed before you even begin to solve them. Two golden oldies both had problems with their iPhones. Of course we know how they work and can use them for all sorts of devious experiments like combining a shopping list over iCloud and getting e-mail notifications from WordPress (which annoys Mr. Swiss because it is always accompanied with a ding-a-ling). Mr. Swiss now has a new iPhone, No. 8. He did not want the face recognition system like I have on my No. 10, but we both had the same problem. We were receiving e-mails but could not send them.
I never send e-mails on my telephone, because I have SMS stuff and the Facebook messenger, but when you have a nice new iPhone you want it to work. I have had mine since last year and never noticed this defect.
Today Mr. Swiss and I went to the SwissCom shop in our town where you wait in a queue with the others until it is your turn. Luckily on Wednesday afternoon the queue is not so long and a young man was assigned to solve our problem. One golden oldie is bad enough, but two at a time and one with a stick? He asked me if I would like to sit, but I told him it was OK. And so the process began. The first not to remember a password was Mr. Swiss, so he sat on a bench to think it over and the young man decided to look after my problems. Of course we both have neat lists at home with all our passwords, but we forgot to take them with us. I knew my password for the e-mails, but more was needed and so I needed the log-in for the SwissCom which I had forgot. In the meanwhile Mr. Swiss had not been able to remember his password so the nice gentleman sorted out a new one.
It was my turn again, and after three tries to get into my Swisscom, we gave up and now Mr. Swiss and I both have new passwords. The young man had experience with gold oldies and wrote our new passwords neatly on a piece of paper. Mr. Swiss sent me an e-mail which I did not receive. I sent him one which did not go anywhere. The young man made a small adjustment and we were connected.
That was part one of the nightmare, part two began when the heavens opened outside and a guy with a long white beard called Noah began to build a boat. Not really, but when the dog walked passed he looked wet and worried.
Now we had phase three of the nightmare. I had a form to give my neurologist to sign that would give permission to park the car on places reserved for the handicapped. I waited for Mr. Swiss in town when suddenly he called me on my iPhone (the one with the outgoing e-mails) to say I had not given him the letter to drop in the mail box at the doctor’s surgery. Of course not, it was still in my handbag and so he walked back through the pouring rain, but we decided we would now take the car and do the necessary. You are not allowed to drive into our town with a car in the afternoon, so he parked it nearby. Five minutes later the job was done.
I have just heard part four of the nightmare. Mr. Swiss is preparing the evening meal and noticed we do not have enough bread for breakfast tomorrow morning. No problem, we always have a frozen bread, usually, if we remember to freeze it. Mr. Swiss is now quickly on his way to buy bread. You really do not need monsters in a nightmare, nightmares happen.