Yo, Tech Answer Guy,
I'm an early adapter. I bought a computer when they still did math using beads. I got one of the first driverless vehicles - it was so primitive, you had to steer and work the gas and break pedals! I even got one of the very first digital tablets; it was made out of stone - you have no idea how much I had to pay to replace the stylus every three hours! Better than wearing out my finger, I suppose.
Unfortunately, my latest technological purchase may be the most mixed bag yet.
It's the latest Japanese cellphone (remember when we used to make cellphones in this country? Wait - did we ever make cellphones in this country?); it has a 3-D holographic display. I'm an auditor for the Canada Revenue Agency; as you might imagine, I love to watch representatives of traitorous arts and social justice groups squirm as I explain to them why none of their expenses are deductible under the "The Enemy of Me is My Enemy" clause in the Canada Revenue Act. This watch allows me to do that from the comfort of my own office.
I thought it would be awesome. And, it was...until yesterday, when things started getting weird.
I received an unsolicited message from a young woman in a white dress with what seemed like cinnamon buns stuck on either side of her head. The message started, "Help me, Obi-Wan!" The young woman then introduced herself as Princess Playa, or something like that - the sound on the cellphone isn't exactly high fidelity - and said a bunch of stuff about an empire which, frankly, I was too busy poring over tax receipts to pay attention to. Whatever. I figured it was a robo-call and decided to ignore it.
Unfortunately, the young lady called back seven minutes later with the exact same message. Then, four minutes after that. Then, three. Then, two. Then, the message just repeated over and over again. I couldn't seem to disconnect, which meant I had to miss my four o'clock with the Canadian Eco Arts Council. And, I was really looking forward to eviscerating their rationale for claiming that their campaign to save the Atlantic Sea Quahog was not political! Not only that, but the flickering of the image gave me a headache the size of a beached whale!
This was getting out of hand.
First of all, my name is not Obi-Wan. (What is that? Japanese for pale coloured kimono sash? Remember when we used to make kimono sashes in this country? Wait - did we ever...?) Sure, I had a nickname when I was at college: Sheep for Brains. I have no idea what that would be in Japanese, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't translate as Obi-Wan.
Secondly, I don't know any princesses. And, to be blunt, I don't want to know any princesses - you have to figure they'll be high maintenance, right? And, I'm just not into drama, even if the princess is a player.
In third place, as a loyal civil servant, the only empire I am concerned about is my own. I am only interested in other empires to the extent that they threaten the one I am building and, frankly, as urgent as she seemed to think it was, I found what I heard of the woman's incoherent plea to be far from compelling.
So. Is there some kind of registry I can get on so pastry head woman will stop calling me? If not, is there any other way I can get her to stop?
Sincerely,Yo, Georgey Last Name With Too Many Syllables,
I know that one of the hero's stops on the Joseph Campbell Journey is "the refusal of the call to action," but I have never seen anybody take it so literally!
Okay, so, the way I see it, you have two options. You can follow the old guy who claims to be a warrior hero around the galaxy having life-endangering adventures and hope he's not just having some kind of brain plaque induced episode. Or, you can call your cellphone provider and ask them to put better robo-call filters in place on your account.
Either way, it's your call. Nobody's gonna Force you to do anything.
The Tech Answer Guy
If you are a dude with a question about the latest technology, ask The Tech Answer Guy by sending it to questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Just remember: Yeah. Puns. I went there. I'm not necessarily proud of the fact, but, let's be honest: puns are the bar nuts of comedy: you can't tell just one, and, in any case, they keep your mouth working while it's waiting for something better to be shoved down it!