I got such a bargain
last week! A web camera for only $4.74, after in-store and mail-in
rebates. It was so unbelievable, I bought two—one for me
and one for my niece Shelley 250 miles away, so when her 3 -year-old
Madeline demonstrates her ballet twirls and 1½-year old Alexandra
waves "Hi" over the phone, I'd actually be able to see them. Technology—it's
wonderful. Or not.
I filled out the registration
form for my camera; then, to save Shelley the time, I also registered
hers before sending it to her. Not easy. One of the blanks to
be filled in was the camera's serial number, which was etched
in faint, miniscule characters on a translucent, light-reflecting
panel smack on top of an intricate circuit board. A half hour
and two magnifying glasses later, I managed to decipher the numbers.
I then attempted to install my camera. Another problem: the accompanying
leaflet that masqueraded as a manual was about as helpful as a
paper parasol in a monsoon.
So I winged it. I studied
the camera. So cute! (I'm a sucker for miniature electronic devices.)
I figured out how to connect its cable to a USB port in my computer.
Drunk with success, I then inserted the software-a floppy disk
and a CD-ROM that refused to run until I begged St. Jude, the
patron saint of impossible causes, to intercede. Finally, an encouraging
display appeared on my monitor. I clicked on various headings,
and another window popped up with a graphic of a small TV screen.
Now what? One of the buttons on the display was a question mark.
It was reading my mind.
I clicked on the question
mark, and it linked me to online instructions—over fifty
pages of links and super-links that had to be accessed separately.
I printed them all out-twice-one for me and one for Shelley, resulting
in the premature death of a $28 printer cartridge; but what the
heck. Seeing Maddie twirl and Allie wave would be worth every
penny. These images inspired me to take a break from my installation
activity and rush to the post office to send Shelley her camera
and instructions printout—Priority Mail, $4.50—but I'm
not complaining.
Then back home to finish
installing my own web cam. Four hours later (I'm not exaggerating)
I still hadn't succeeded. I kept getting error messages: "The
video capture device is in use. Please close the application that
is using video capture and retry." No other applications were
running. I had no idea what this meant. Another message popped
up: "There was a problem contacting the conexs.com server." Huh??
I gamely (spelled s-t-u-p-i-d-l-y) kept at it. Two hours later
(still not kidding), I decided to uninstall the program, go to
bed, and start again from scratch after a good night's sleep.
Right. Like I could sleep.
At 3:00 AM, I got up,
turned on my computer, fired off a "Help!" message to the camera
manufacturer's technical support e-mail address, then tackled
the installation again. I was still at it at 7:00 AM (true; I
swear). By now, I had not only not installed the camera, but I
had managed to mess up my whole system. I could no longer connect
to AOL, and I couldn't even shut off my computer properly-I had
to do it by turning off the power (a big NO-NO in computerland).
Fortunately, my computer has a "Go-Back" feature that allows me
to revert the system to a selected previous time. I set it to
go back 24 hours, before the web cam madness began. This restored
my computer's sanity, but not mine.
Now able to connect
to AOL, I checked my e-mail and found a response from the camera
manufacturer's tech support. It suggested I call an 800 number
for live help to resolve my problems. I did. After being kept
on Hold Hell for 45 minutes, listening to repeated messages of
praise about the company's products and services, an actual living
being came on the line. I told him my problems. He said he could
help. He lied. Not that he didn't try. He guided me, step by step,
through various procedures. I could sense he was becoming as frustrated
as I when he kept running into the same roadblocks I had encountered
on my own. Suddenly, I heard a click. He was gone. An accidental
disconnect? I think not.
I called back. That's
right. Hold Hell again until another techie finally answered.
Different guy. Same story. Except he didn't hang up; at least
not until he told me there was obviously something wrong with
the camera. "Take it back and exchange it," he suggested. And
start this exercise in futility all over again? Not on your life.
If I want to see Maddie
and Allie perform, it will be easier to drive 250 miles, even
in a blizzard.
