I find myself outraged on behalf of people in poverty these days. (And poverty not just of money, but of resources -- like the ability to hook up wires or get out on a roof.) There are assumptions being made that people who can't hook up to DTV are stupid, or lazy, or waited too long. (Quotes: "And millions of these Americans don't have converter boxes because they are too stupid and/or lazy and/or cheap to rectify the problem." "He's a lazy, lethargic, procrastinator that will not be ready in June either!") I am none of those things, and my DTV still doesn't work acceptably.

Our family, while on a budget, does have means to upgrade our equipment, as well as a fair bit of technology experience. We have chosen not to purchase cable or satellite service, and we currently receive five analog channels via antenna. Here are the issues that were an annoyance for us, but for someone in poverty could prove insurmountable.

1. The coupons do not cover the total cost of converter boxes.

Even with two coupons, our family paid $50 for two converter boxes. Not a challenge for us, but certainly for someone on a low or fixed income. We, as a country, have culturally deemed that television is where all important annoucements and emergencies will be dealt with quickly. Because of this, it's critical that free network broadcasts remain accessible to citizens. If radio were used to the same extent, we wouldn't be in this predicament.

2. There were not enough coupons for everyone.

Let's just think for a moment who might have been more likely to apply for a coupon before they ran out. Do you think it was the at-home mom with ample money and leisure time to apply for the coupons well in advance of the deadline; or an overtaxed family of six living in a trailer without Internet access?

3. The antenna issue was ignored for months, and is still being downplayed.

We dutifully hooked up our converter boxes and waited for the cornucopia of digital programming to stream into our living room. What we got was... ABC. Sometimes. Turns out, our huge roof-mounted antenna is insufficient for capturing digital programming and has to be replaced. Not only do we get far fewer channels than analog, we're also forced to see the lipstick on our favorite male actors' faces. Disappointing.

Our family has the ability to throw money at a problem to make it go away, but that doesn't make the additional cost of an antenna any more pleasant to bear. We were lied to. "Get a DTV converter box and a world of television will be yours!" Riddle me this: Who is most likely to have antique antennas that need replacing in order to get a DTV signal? Do you think it might be grandma, who is still watching tv on a console as big as a Cadillac?

I googled to find acceptable DTV antennas and the DTV Answers site directed me to antennaweb.org, which told me that "Indoor antennas are not included in this mapping system, because many variables impact the quality of indoor signal strength." So I'm already looking at going out onto the roof. Standing outside in two feet of snow, staring up at the behemoth 10-foot antenna mounted on our roof, no one in my family is willing to undertake the task.

I forged ahead for an outdoor antenna, and this is the page I reached. They want all of my information, plus permission to spam me. Only the web-trained will notice that all you really need is a zip code. Which I entered, and was promptly admonished, "If you did not enter your full street address along with your city, state or ZIP Code, please return to the Address Entry page and enter your full address." That sentence, at the top of the results page, makes it seem like the search didn't work. But when you scroll down, there are results. I'm disgusted that DTV answers is sending people to such a blatant data-grab of a website.

And then the results... I apparently need an antenna type "yellow uhf," "green uhf," and "red uhf." I clickde through the antenna types to see a list including: small multi-directional, medium directional, large directional with pre-amp... no explanations. Just jargon. Let me say, I'm no luddite. I can wire a phone board and whip up a little PHP here and there. But I am not an expert in DTV-ready antennas, nor do I want to be. How many people do you think got as far as I did in their research? Did your mom? Your grandfather? The single mom who gets Internet access for 15 minutes at the local library?

4. No middle ground for fuzzy channels.

It's no secret that we live in a rough climate. We're battered by frequent snowstorms, subzero temperatures, and constant high-speed lake winds. Every time our antenna moves, the visibility of our tv channels changes. With analong, it's barely noticeable. Maybe some fuzziness or static, but they're still watchable. With digital, the picture skews into a bargello quilt (lovely, but indeciperable), then it stutters, then it freezes. Then they're gone, sometimes for hours, sometimes forever. At this point, I can tell you the speed of the wind outside by the amount of DTV programming I've lost that day.

5. The federal switchover date has been extended, but states apparently can choose their own adventure.

Vermont television stations have been running smarmy ads that say: 'Even though the federal government is allowing us to hold off the switchover until June, we here in Vermont know that you've been diligent and you're ready for the switch (I'd like to see stats on that), so we're going ahead in February.' What I read from that is, 'We invested money in a February switch, so to hell with you all, we're doing it.'

And I don't believe pushing back the date alone is the solution. You'll just have another few million people in financial or resource-based poverty without converter boxes in June. There needs to be more coupons, they need to cover the cost of the boxes fully, and local communities need to be mobilized to provide volunteers to go to neighbors' houses and help them convert.

This is not about entertainment. If our family wanted television to be recreational, we would have bought cable. It's informational and helpful for emergencies. The websites of our local tv stations aren't quite up to posting video of their broadcasts, so it's important to have a few networks on tap for those big Vermont storms. Or for the day an armed gunman was on the loose in our county and schools were locked down. Our local channels don't update the web fast enough to be useful.

So what are we going to do? Dave just started a new job with a fair bit of travel and I'm having a baby; so no one's replacing an antenna right now. Frankly, I'm disgusted with the entire process. Our family is going to shrug off the networks, keep digital ABC around for emergencies, and find something else to do with the 2-3 hours a week we watched television together. (We also happen to be tech-savvy enough to know where to find a few favorite shows online.)

Networks will lose viewers due to their own hubris in charging forward with the switch, some people will be tricked into buying expensive cable or satellite packages, and some people will be sitting at home when their town is evacuated because they have no access to quick tv-based updates.

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I was cruising through Everyday Food this month when I saw this ad. It really put me off. Word of mouth marketing is an incredible and unpredictable tool, but to suggest that we should put down our friends sarcastically for sharing information is just nasty.

I am a big fan of dry humor, but I would never speak to a friend this way. I might ask her reasoning or give my own opionion, but to cut her down like the example given is simply mean. The corn syrup lobby must be on some kind of sugar high.



Hello,

Your advertisement on page 41 of the October 2008 issue of Everyday Food gave me pause. Suggesting that typical Americans sharing information over daily activities is wrong because we're not experts is condescending and distasteful. I shouldn't have to wait to speak to a doctor before gathering information about a product or ingredient and sharing it with my peers.

Many busy mothers are glad that our friends to pass along important information that we may have missed in the constant flow of news, e.g. product recalls, e coli scares, etc. The example response in your ad -- of a woman using sarcasm to refute her friend, is mean-spirited. This is no way to increase support for your product.

Clearly, there's a reason the phrase is "you catch more flies with honey" and not "you catch more flies with high fructose corn syrup."

Tara Liloia

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Apparently, the worst thing in the world you can do, other than harming babies and puppies, is get a cell phone for work and have your employer pay for the phone. Because when you leave said place of employment, and you return the phone to them, you're left with a contract and no phone -- which is, I have learned, akin to being a human being with blood, but no blood vessels. The useful stuff is all in there sloshing around, but you just can't access it.

I found myself in this predicament last night, and after much frustration online, I called my local Verizon store to see what they could do. And what they could do, it turns out, is wheedle me, upsell me, and insult me. But no good deal on a phone.

I laid it all out for everyone I spoke to. I have a contract, but no phone. I don't want to pay retail for a phone (even the crummiest pieces of garbage phones -- the ones they give away -- are $150 retail). I'm willing to do any kind of red tape shenanigans to get a cheap phone; restart the contract, cancel and get a new contract, invoke a lesser demon from the planet Voltron. I don't care how it happens, but I want a first-generation enV (a modest, middle of the road phone) for not much more than the $130 contract price. This is not brain surgery.

The guy on the phone is optimistic. He says, "Come in and ask for Joe or Katie. Under no circumstances should you talk to Angie. If you have to, you can talk to Sandy. But Joe is the best. Come after 7:00pm and ask for Joe. He'll definitely be able to do it for you."

So I follow his instructions. I leave my house in Isle La Motte around 6:30pm and get to the Verizon store in SoBu an hour later. Harry meets me at the door and I run down the issue with him. His first response is that I'm in a bad situation. He says it with gravity, as if I've got necrosis of the foot and I'm not actually talking about discounting a piece of plastic and wires. I reason with him.

"I want to pay you monthly. I even want to pay for the phone. They have it online for $80 with a contract, so clearly the price on the phone is oh-so-flexible, and I'm even willing to pay your $130 posted price. I just won't pay over that."

"Yeah... you really don't have any options," is his answer.

I wait for a moment. I probably blink antagonistically a few times. "Really, is that it? You're recommending I just cancel the contract?"

"Yeah," he replies.

I mention I was told to come down and Joe would hook me up. His face brightens (because Joe is clearly the doer of all things) and runs off to tell Joe that I need his help. At this point, Joe is helping someone. It's an interesting kind of helping, which involves him standing nearby while a customer speaks on the store phone to someone she knows about what type of phone to get. But fine, he's busy, and he knows I'm waiting, so I play with phones and wait.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm still waiting. I look over at Harry, who goes back to Joe and has a little powow. Harry comes back with this little tidbit:

"Uh, Joe says you have the protection plan, so you can report the phone stolen and he can give you the one-year price [of $250] for the new phone."

See if you can find the hole in that plan. Remember, I'm returning the phone to my old employer because they paid for it and it's legally theirs. Got it yet? I turn to Harry.

"Which would mean, I assume, that when my company goes to use the phone, it will be reported as stolen and unusable."

"Uh... yeah. I guess you can't do that. You'll have to talk to Joe."

I head back to play with the phone and Joe finally comes over. We aren't five words into the discussion when I realize I'm with a guy who thinks he's a "closer." He's got that salesman lilt to his voice. Like he's over-acting some kind of monologue to distance himself from the ridiculous words that are coming out of his mouth. Let me recreate this gem of a soliloquy:

"Let me run down the 'logic' here. You bought a phone from us, a nice phone, from over there. [He gestures at the PDA/Smartphone rack.] You paid what, like $500? So you spent $500 with us. And you have the lowest plan. Now I'm not saying that's bad, but that takes, like, eighteen months to recoup that. So you're paying $40 a month over two years and that's like a thousand dollars. And it'll take us time... you know, to make that back. Do you see my 'logic' here?"

I was not seeing his logic here. The way I saw it, I gave them $500 already, as well as $80 monthly (phone and data service). It wasn't entirely clear what they needed to "recoup." He continued.

"What I can do for you is this. You need to get accessories, right? You'll need a bluetooth package, a case, and a car charger, and the Vcast service to get your music, right? So I can sell you the phone for the one-year price if you'll buy those bundles. And I'll even discount them!"

Keep in mind that these bundles together (discounted) equal $109 plus $15 monthly. Added to the $250 1-year phone price, I would get a better deal just paying retail for the phone instead of taking all of the junk I don't need.

I simply responded, "I have accessories, and I have an iPod for music."

He sighed dramatically and started to explain the "logic" again, as if I was dumb. As if I wasn't getting how paying $539 was better than paying $350 for a phone which was clearly marked $130 and sells online for $80. They'll be giving these things away in Cracker Jack boxes in two months. He spoke fast, mixed metaphors, and threw in all kinds of obscure concepts. I've seen this in other people whose aim is to confuse and intimidate you. It was at that point that I realized that Joe had no interest in helping me get a non-retail phone. He also had no interest in keeping my business. I realized, disappointed, that I was going to have to walk away.

I smiled, and said,"No thanks, I'll just cancel the contract." I'm sure it was that icy cold smile that those who know me have come to recognize and enjoy. It's the "I'm done with you, but I'm pretending to be nice, so let's pretend together and get this over with," smile. Joe has never seen this smile, so can you blame him for doing the exact wrong thing?

"Awww, now you're upset," he goaded. "Don't be upset if you just can't see the 'logic' here."

It was the low blow of a man who knows he just lost the sale and is lashing out with one last-ditch effort to shame me into a purchase after trying to confuse me into a purchase. He knew it too, he would barely look at me as he completed the contract cancellation.

The kicker is that I went online and bought the same phone for $80 this morning. Even with the cancellation fee, it cost much less than the 1-year price plus accessories that Joe offered; however, I found that my SSN was flagged for credit review -- odd, because if my credit score were a phone number, it would be toll-free. Could Joe have had his revenge after all?

UPDATE: After two hours in the Verizon store last night cancelling the account, it turns out my account was not really cancelled. It was just fakely cancelled. Even though I have a little slip of paper that says the disconnect date was 05/29/08. And even though I can no longer make or receive calls, texts or emails on the phone itself.

I was told by someone at the Verizon phone center that I needed to go back to the store and re-cancel. A two hour round-trip to do, again, what I thought I did successfully last night. So I called the store to circumvent a road trip and guess who I got... what do you know, Joe!

Joe had this to say: "Well, like we discussed last night, your account was cancelled, but you would have service until June 21st."

And I had this to say: "Except the phone is disconnected now. So I don't really have service, and I'm paying through June 21st for absolutely nothing."

Listen folks, I am a hoop-jumper and a rule-follower. If you give me a set of parameters, I'll work within them. But on the flip side, I expect that when I fulfill my end of the bargain, you'll fulfill yours too. I played along with the little Verizon game of cancelling my work contract to get a personal contract, and paying the cancellation fee out of my own pocket just to make some phone calls, but now I'm ticked. Like I told the gent at the call center, I'm about two seconds away from ditching Verizon and going to Unicel. I have the Unicel plans web page open and my mouse is hovering.

I don't like getting testy with people who work in service -- really, I'm the woman who waited, smiling and joking, in the Shaw's line for 20 minutes last night while the register rebooted and lost my order. Service jobs are hard and stuff goes wrong. But today I'm snappish with the Verizon guys. There's a willfulness to their idiocy. They're already sticking me with fees and red tape, now they're even messing up their own insane procedures.

ATTENTION VERIZON: This would have all been moot if you would have let me pay you $130. I wanted to pay you $130.

FINAL (I hope) UPDATE: I managed to get the contract cancelled for real real and the new phone will arrive Monday, but not before Joe called me back, insisting on speaking to "Helen." I told him a few times it was me he spoke to previously, not this mythical Helen, but he was adamant. (Helen doesn't even sound like Tara.) Eventually, I told him I'd give Helen the message.

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I unsubscribed from the FlyLady list after several weeks of trying to make it work. For those who haven't met her, FlyLady is a cleaning and clutter-busting expert who offers a home management system for keeping a household running.

Going from a one-floor condo to a big farmhouse has increased the number of my maintenance chores exponentially. Dave, as awesome as he is about keeping things running around here, now has five acres of land to tend. Mowing it alone takes a full weekend day. So the inside is primarily my responsibility.

I found FlyLady and made my daily cleaning lists, which work well for maintenance and de-cluttering. I changed a few of her tips; lace-up shoes are impractical when I have to change shoes several times a day for different tasks. (Don't wear the muddy gardening boots in the kitchen!) And there are only so many times I can remove twenty-seven pieces of clutter from a room before it looks like an IKEA showroom. I need to keep a few personal items around.

The trouble is not the cleaning advice, but the email newsletter. It's ironic that on a clutter-cleanup list, there are over 30 broadcast messages a day.The volume of incoming email is extreme; I have several FlyLady filters set up and still about fifteen messages get through the net daily.

So how do you fill 30 messages a day with content? Some are reminder notices; start the laundry, shine your sink, etc. They might be useful, except that they rarely arrive in my inbox at a relevant time. I keep getting "put your shoes on for the day" messages after 11:00pm, or "Tuesday is clean the living room day" reminders on Wednesday night.

Some of the messages are missions -- special areas that need to be cleaned on that particular day. Again, when they come in at the end of the day or the next day, they're fairly useless. And if you're using your task list, a reminder email isn't necessary.

The rest of the messages are a mix of lengthy essays on why it's important to stay organized and a large number of rambling testimonials from other people using the program. I'm already on the program -- I don't need convincing ten times a day.

The kicker is that when I unsubscribed, I received a bewildered autoreply from FlyLady that condemned me for leaving the list because I "hate change." Exqueeze me? In the last year alone I renovated a house, moved to an island, took a job, quit a job, started beekeeping, and switched breakfast cereal from Rice Krispies to Raisin Bran (<- not easy!). I hate change?!

The letter also said that I felt her reminders were "negative voices from my past." Uh huh. Or maybe they're just way too much junk mail.

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A couple of weeks ago, I received a JetBlue alert that my flight had changed; however, the email was blank in the area for listing the changes. I logged in and nothing seemed different than my printed itinerary, so I chalked it up to a technical error. Sure enough, an hour or so later, I received an apologetic email about the mistaken change alert. We all go on our merry way.

I mentioned to Dave how easy it is to send out incorrect email blasts -- having sent those mass messages to immense member lists almost daily for the past five years. At my first week at DFA, I was sending messages alone for only the second or third time when I realized, with a sick feeling, that I had sent a message intended for North Dakota to the entire email list.

And there was the time that I accidentally used our Executive Director's real email address in the reply-to field. He had about 50,000 messages to sort through the next day. It happens.

But it doesn't happen often, (my rate is three in five years, which is less than 0.1%.) so I was a little surprised to get a second flight change alert this week from JetBlue. Again, the relevant information was blank and the flight route mentioned was one I've never traveled or booked. And again, I received an apology email shortly afterwards, along with a few other people.



Sure, there's a little bit of schadenfreude, watching someone else hit the wrong button. But there's a little relief as well. I may have once asked some donors to support a guy 2,000 miles away, but at least no one showed up for the wrong flight.

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If you think I don't notice you throttling back my DVDs, you are wrong. Watch it. Unlike Jack, I can quit you.

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