I like the Internet only when it does what I want, when I want. Call me callous, but I expect the World Wide Web to instantly cater to my every whim and passing curiosity, serving up all that I have demanded with no questions asked. If that sounds like the attitude of a despot, then feel free to register your objection with my help desk. I appreciate that this is incredibly unbalanced, but that’s the way I like it. In fact, it’s only because I know it won’t answer back that I’m willing to trust the Internet at all. But alas, things are changing.
I like the Internet only when it does what I want, when I want. Call me callous, but I expect the World Wide Web to instantly cater to my every whim and passing curiosity, serving up all that I have demanded with no questions asked. If that sounds like the attitude of a despot, then feel free to register your objection with my help desk. I appreciate that this is incredibly unbalanced, but that’s the way I like it. In fact, it’s only because I know it won’t answer back that I’m willing to trust the Internet at all. But alas, things are changing.
Many years ago, I saw the film ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’. I didn’t really understand it or, for that matter, enjoy it on any level whatsoever, but I did learn something other than the incontrovertible truth that movies are more entertaining if they have something resembling a point. Aside also from the fact that apes and weird black monoliths are a bad combination and that Strauss’s ‘Thus Spake Zarathustra’ could make brushing your teeth seem like a truly epic act, I also learned that you should never trust a pushy computer.
It began when I was trying to buy a DVD featuring Eddie Murphy’s best performances on Saturday Night Live. For those of you who are familiar only with his work in duds like ‘The Adventures of Pluto Nash’, ‘I Spy’ and the almost-as-excrutiating-as-2001: A Space Odyssey-but-not-quite and complete and utter turkey banquet that was ‘Norbit’, let me say that the man is capable of greatness, even if he chooses to reveal it only occasionally. The best evidence of the magnitude of his talent comes in the form of his work on the television show Saturday Night Live. My sister in law feels much the same way about Mr Murphy, so I decided to order a DVD from America and have it delivered. Or, at least, that was the plan until, at the last moment, I reached the virtual checkout only to find out that they wanted to charge me the kind of postage that requires a phone call to your bank manager. I deleted everything and bailed out as though my laptop was on fire. That, so I thought, was that. Until I received an email that stated:
Thanks for visiting the NBC Universal Store. We noticed you left some items in your cart. Your cart will only remain saved for a limited time and many items sell out fast so please review your cart. Come back in the next 48 hours and Save 15% on any order of $50 & up.
My first reaction was one of anger. I wanted to tell the snoops at NBC Universal to back off and mind their own business. But then it occurred to me – this is how the world now works. Computers have learned to talk back. Indeed, the worm has, if not turned then, at least, loosened up its shoulder muscles. Having gotten off on the wrong virtual foot, I now believe it is better if I accept this state of affairs and try to set things right.
So, dear computer, allow me to offer – by way of contrition – something of an explanation. In doing so, let me begin by saying in my defence that my intentions were good. Upon reflection, I now realize that abandoning items in a trolley is probably no more appropriate on the Internet than it would be in a supermarket and ranks only behind parking in a reserved car parking space and disregarding allocated cinema seating on the list of all-time acts of out and out bastardry. But I can explain.
Everything was going swimmingly. Having decided to surprise my sister in law with an impossible to find (at least in this country) DVD, I was pleasantly surprised at how easy the site was to navigate and what a bargain my DVD of choice appeared to be. I then proceeded to the checkout. It was here that things came drastically unstuck. Credit card in hand and having filled in all my details (including, it would seem, my contact email address), I then caught a glance at the dollars required for postage. There’s no easy way to say it, but the cost of sending the item dwarfed the cost of the item itself. For the avoidance of doubt, I very much mean ‘dwarfed’ in the literal and Herve Villachaize sense of the word. Quicker than you can say ‘the plane, the plane’, I bailed out.
I’m not saying it was the right thing to do. It was something I did – to quote soft-rock titans ‘Asia’ – in the heat of the moment. I regret it now. But only when it became apparent that I was about to be charged up the wazoo for postage did I take such drastic action. Granted, I freely acknowledge that posting a DVD from New York would be expensive for good reason. I am, after all, on the other side of the world and finding someone willing – much less able – to swim the required ten thousand kilometres with the DVD clamped between his teeth, would be no easy task. And let’s face it – the land-leg of the journey is hardly a walk in the park, either. It is (more or less) a twelve thousand mile stroll through a desert until you’re halfway to the Antarctic. Who needs that kind of aggravation? A single carrier pigeon would hardly be up to the task, necessitating the training of an entire team, working in shifts, all to carry one disc of classic television comedy. It all adds up in the end.
So allow me to – here and now- apologise to the Internet and computers everywhere for the confusion. It won’t happen again. Having now considered the exorbitant cost of the postage and the obvious distress that my reckless actions have caused you I have, instead, elected to hire Eddie Murphy directly, with a view to flying him out here to recreate his best known sketches in my sister in law’s living room. It will, I suspect, be cheaper.