My line of sight is shorter than the long, white cane with the sensitive tip that telegraphs the lay of land before me. Now, picture me, alone, at the huge, San Diego Fashion Valley shopping mall – less than a week before Christmas! That was when Fashion Valley became, “Blind Alley.” Although I am hypersensitive to everyone and everything around me, it becomes obvious that, for all practical purposes, I am invisible – especially to the people who almost stumble over my white cane. (This probably is the only ploy that has not, as yet, occurred to the terrorists – oops!)

My iPhone 5 had died a week ago. Several days later, it became apparent that the only recourse was to make an appointment at the Apple Store. I was waiting for a friend to come by and accompany me to my 2:05 appointment. At 1:30, I called a Yellow Cab; I have their convenient, prepaid, discount charge card. The idea was to have him drop me off at the east end of the mall, which is closest to the Apple Store. It had not occurred to me that it was the last shopping week before Christmas. I had planned to make my way to the Apple Store and then traipse back to that drop-off point to call a cab. Forget that!

The Yellow Cab driver immediately began to grumble about the traffic on the freeway (which probably is the reason I was in his damned cab, anyway!), and took several surface streets before finding a reasonable entry point.

The freeway exit led directly into a traffic jam-up at the mall parking entrance. The grumbling continued. There was a signal from an electronic communicator, and a female voice. He responded, “Estoy ocupado. Te hablo más tarde.” He was busy, and would call back later. It was two o’clock, so with my back-up, Jitterbug phone, I attempted to advise the Apple store of my dilemma. A very natural-sounding robot announces that he/it can handle complete-sentence responses. Unfortunately, those full phrases were no help in avoiding the multi-non-responses that usually direct one to another. Less accommodating robot. I hung up.

By this time, the driver had despaired of being able to leave me at my desired drop-off point. As he inched along near JCPenney, and became more surly in the process, I told him just to drop me off at the Penney entrance. When he had trouble fussing and cussing with the uncooperative charge meter, I sensed he was anxious to get back to his earlier, aborted conversation. He impatiently guided me to the entrance, and hurried back to the pumpkin that quickly was turning into a more amenable Uber carriage.

I made my way to a working counter and asked for someone who could direct me to the mall entrance. A very perky young lady soon appeared, who did just that. I discovered that I was at the opposite end of my desired spot, and would have to negotiate my way down the left side of the mall, to the Apple Store. With my compass thusly set, I gathered guiding assurances along the way. With my last inquiry, the couple said that was where they were headed, and to come along. As we approached the door, they asked if they could get someone to help. Thanking them, I said that once inside, I would be fine. Little did I know that when I came back through those doors, night would have fallen.

I was directed to one of those horrible, community consulting tables in Steve Jobs’ noisy, ill-designed cathedral in perpetuam. It should have included a warning: “When keeping appointments, be sure to bring along a list of all pertinent pass codes, i.e.:

• iStore
• iCloud
• iPhone
• iPad
• E-mail

After several sessions of time-taking, attempted restoration, it was determined that the battery in my 3- or 4-year-old iPhone was irretrievably dead. One of the two uniformed techs working on my problem observed: “You know, we look like robots tapping on these screens.” I piped in, “Eventually...” They laughed and said, “They will not be as friendly as we are.” I thought, “Thank God; I’d get through sooner.” I was satisfied with my phone, but they did not have a replacement in stock. So, I determined to purchase the next one in line, which turned out to be the, “SE”. He was not sure, but later googling indicates, “Special Edition.” Fortunately, it is the same size of the iPhone 5, so the same auxiliary battery I was using fits perfectly. We got stuck in the process by not being able to retrieve a verifying email pass code transmission, when suddenly I remembered I had brought along my iPad, which was resting in a bag, on the floor. He hooked it up to the store’s WIFI, and was able to retrieve the needed email. I was insistent in not leaving without a fully functional telephone, with all of the former aps and settings intact. I was then moved to the community set-up table, with all the accompanying noise and movement.

This is where two genial, pre-robot humanoids take new gadgets out of the box and bring them to life. This phase consists of time-consuming downloads from that mysterious, “Cloud,” where most device-settings reside in a strange sort of digital, “Cybernation,” until they are revived for further use. Here, also, is where the new device is registered with the corresponding service company. Be prepared to consult your pass code list again, as well as to supply more of your own, pre-set responses. Oddly, after almost two hours of supplying intimate details and pass codes, suddenly, you are looked upon as a stark stranger, and required to provide documented identification. After accepting your State ID, and noting that is expired, you are back on friendly terms. Now comes the shakedown of the new device. Here is where I learn a new feature of the SE. After several stages of voice-recognition implantation, one is able to activate the device without touching it.

After this drawn-out period of sitting on uncomfortable stools, at huge, noisy tables, where you are one of the strangers, it dawns on me that this is part of that “future” I always told myself I would be living in when I entered the new millennium Prior to the trip to the Apple Store, I had consulted with Verizon, my service company. They took me, telephonically, through all the steps they could. Then, they suggested I plug the iPhone into the computer and analyze the problem through iTunes. Now, visually over my head, I contacted Boundless, a company contracted by the Veterans Administration to technically assist the visually impaired with VA-issued devices. They remotely took over my computer, downloaded iTunes, and had me connect the iPhone to the computer. I could not interpret what was on the iPhone screen, so he had me hold it up to the camera. “Holy Mackerel,” he said, “The battery is really down. Leave it in for a while, and I will get back to you.” He did – the day after my Apple Store experience.

It occurred to me: I was a whole week without my telephone. When I was born, rural people picked up the phone and said, “Hello, Central?” When I was a kid, in the city, more than one household was assigned to a single line. Up to – and even after her humiliating break-up –Ma Bell would have sent somebody out and had the problem fixed the same day. This is progress?! Yeah, yeah – I know – back then, you couldn’t look up from your research paper, glance over at the Princess Phone, and yell: “Hey, Ma Bell: Do a search for 16th century Kuala Lampur.”

When I emerged from the bright lights of the Apple Store into the darkened mall, I said, “Oh, boy!” My original plans, in daylight, would have taken me a short trip to the left, where I could wait for a taxi. Now, the smartest thing would be to head for the taxi stand, in the opposite direction. When I reached the escalator, I knew I should turn left. Not knowing exactly which degree of left, I found myself again at JCPenney. Following the same routine, I asked for someone to direct me to a door, where I could conveniently wait for a cab. The young lady who showed up kindly offered to take me to the cab stand. She even waited to close the cab door.

This driver, too, immediately began to grumble about the traffic. He also had trouble with his charge meter, so I had to pay in cash. What is the problem with these guys? They chose to do this job, the meter is running –- Ah! It must be the Great Uber/Lyft Specter that is hovering over their rolling pumpkins!

My back-up Jitterbug cellphone has an arrangement whereby all steps for a Lyft pick-up are handled by a live operator, and the fare is charged to your bill. I tried it once from the Braille Institute. The driver was prompt, courteous and well dressed. He had a clean, neat car that smelled delightfully fresh. He was comfortably employed otherwise, and drove only when he was prepared to do so.

Obviously, we rapidly are being “Lyfted” “Uber” the past, with regard to technology and human-based services.

***** ***** *****

With a white cane one is “Lyfted”
“Uber” where one has drifted.
“Tis better to go
Than stay and not show: --
Words for do-dos and the gifted!