Tag Archives for disappointment

My iPhone 6s: No Replacement Joy

Today, Apple released its much-anticipated iPhone 7, with the usual fanfare to a gaggle of media and Apple acolytes, who seem to wait with bated breath each time a new version of an i-something is announced. Yesterday, I picked up my replacement iPhone 6s. There was no excited anticipation, or celebration, on my part and it took less than ten minutes for the representative at my local Apple Store’s Genius Bar to hand me my replacement phone after removing it from a nondescript white box and inserting my phone’s SIM card. My replacement phone, or as Apple calls it: a ‘service phone’, is a refurbished iPhone 6s that replaces the brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s I bought at the end of June that was defective out-of-the-box.

The store representative was happy to send me on my way after that brief interaction. My destination was home, to load my backed up data on to this replacement and pretend the defective phone was replaced with something new. The problem is, I know it’s not new. I know – because I asked someone an unexpected question – that Apple’s policy is to replace their products, when they are defective out-of-the-box, with refurbished products. Products that have had part(s) interchanged within their shells when they have failed diagnostics tests that indicate a hardware, not a software flaw; and knowing that makes me feel like crap because it’s not in any way – at least not to me – comparable to the phone the I paid hundreds of dollars for roughly two months ago. A decision I feel stupid for making, not because I’m an avid Apple fan, but on the basis that I didn’t have to learn how to use a new manufacturer’s phone and that my iPhone 4 had been reliable for four years so I believed this new improved model should be just as good.

In recent conversations I’ve had with Apple Support representatives, they’ve made it clear to me that Apple doesn’t have a problem explaining and supporting this policy of replacing the defective products people pay hundreds of dollars for with refurbished equipment. Even the Apple Store manager, to whom I made it clear that I paid out-of-pocket for my phone, when she flippantly suggested that my phone was a freebie I received as part of a locked-in-until-your-kids-are-old-enough-to-drive contract many people sign on to with their mobile phone service providers, only stumbled for a moment before getting back on-message. Not even my mobile service provider was aware that this happens with Apple’s defective out-of-the-box products, until I called them to see what options I might have in lieu of accepting what I consider a sub-standard replacement. In fact, the representative I spoke with stated, that he’d never had another customer call with my issue and that “I’m dumbstruck, especially coming from Apple that’s supposed to be the ‘Cadillac’ of companies,” when I explained some of the Apple Store manager’s rationale for why they use ‘service phones’.

I guess giving customers refurbished product must be at the top of the lesser-known policies Apple uses to grow profits and keep a high percentage of product market share, while presenting their glossy image – as they did today at the iPhone 7 launch – because people rarely think to ask the question I did. Now I get to walk around, until I replace my phone in another three or four years, with the displeasure of knowing that I have an iFrankenphone that was built to replace defective part(s) instead of the brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s I spent a shitload of money for.

 

Jerry Reed – She Got the Goldmine, I got The Shaft

 

My iPhone 6s: Screwed By Apple

Illness has ways of removing things from our lives that we take for granted when we are moving through the world in a healthy body. For instance, I haven’t had sex for more than three years mainly because I haven’t been in a relationship since the arrival of my illness, but more importantly because I’m in pain all the time. However, this morning after getting off the phone with the Manager from my local Apple Store I felt as if I’d been screwed  for the first time in more than three years – my apologies for the vulgar characterization.

In a conversation filled with platitudes, customer handling jargon, and loads of BS about saving the environment; the outcome is that I will not get a new phone to replace my brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s, which I recently purchased and was defective out-of-the-box. Instead, a phone that comes from Apple’s service inventory will replace my new phone that I was so happy to have purchased. The Manager did her very best to assure me that the quality of the ‘service phone’ will not vary in any way from my brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s because it comes from the same assembly line as all new Apple phones – with the only exception being the fish logo missing from the front of the box. However, none of what she said reassured me.

My iPhone 6s -Screwed By Apple

My brand new out-of-the-box iPhone 6s was defective and, according to the Manager, the only way to replace it under warranty, less than two months after it was purchased, is with a phone assembled with random components meant to revive a previously defective phone; I don’t find that at all reassuring. I also don’t find it reassuring that this Manager could not understand why such a policy, which was not disclosed to me during my earlier visit to the store, would not only be unappealing but also unacceptable to someone who had just shelled out hundreds of dollars for what is marketed as a “most advanced” product. When I pick up my replacement phone from the Apple Store: I will know it is not the same quality product I spent a considerable amount of time making the decision to invest such a great sum of money in. I will also know that Apple has done the expedient thing to save the company money at the cost of customer loyalty.

I know that many people will think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. However, when you get ripped off by a mammoth company and they smile while doing it and tell you they have no options because Apple has no process “to return your defective phone to inventory” and you know that options do exist, it’s a pretty shitty feeling.

 

When Hoofbeats Mean Zebras

For some time I’ve been having a recurring dream – actually, it’s now a live waking vision – that I make an appointment to see the doctor who started me on my journey into chronic pain. She no longer works at the hospital where I was first treated for, and ignored when I described, my severe pelvic pain so I would need to do some detective work to track her down. Why would I want to exert any effort to see her you might be wondering? Well, when someone irreversibly changes your life for the worst you get an overwhelming desire to confront them to see the look on their face when you recount for them the hours, days, and months of endless pain you now live with because of their avoidable mistakes.

I believe I deserve an opportunity to tell her how disappointing it was – and continues to be for me – that a female physician was so dismissive of me when I described my pelvic pain symptoms. During my hospitalization, I tried, unsuccessfully, to share my medical history, and family health history, with her on the off chance there might be a relevant connection to something from my past or genetic ancestry. I want her to understand that just because a patient presents some symptoms for a particular illness that they could still very well have something else, and that the old saying of “when you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras“ isn’t always the right medical diagnostic rule to follow.

The results from the first abdominal scans I had were unusual and shocked the Emergency Room doctors, but a lack of expertise meant I had to receive treatment elsewhere. However, once they admitted me to the second hospital the attending doctors seemed to be on a mission to contain my illness to a textbook diagnosis that was more common, predictable, and manageable, which over time proved to be wrong. The diagnosis wasn’t right, yet this doctor continued to work from her flawed viewpoint, while my health deteriorated with each passing day. Oddly, even with my physical decline and increasing pain, she was certain I wouldn’t need to rest for longer than a week after my release from the hospital before returning to work. I want her to know how wrong she was about that too because it’s been almost three years and I’m not any closer to going back to work and no one can see if or when that might be possible for me.

I also I want her to know how wrong she was for under-prescribing pain medication for my pain management and telling me that if I had a pain flare up outside her hospital clinic hours to go the Emergency Room where I could receive additional support. The Emergency Room staff and doctors at that hospital were not supportive. At best, during each of my pain-filled late night visits they thought I was there seeking more opioid-based painkillers and did the bare minimum to treat my pain. Once they read my hospital clinic chart, they didn’t order any more tests or investigate alternative diagnoses; they simply hooked me up to an IV to boost the effects of the painkillers. They then wrote more prescriptions for the same dose of those ineffective pain medications; and told me to go back to the hospital clinic to see the same doctor who was failing to manage my pain because she didn’t believe what she had incorrectly diagnosed could cause so much pain. Poor pain management forced my nervous system into overdrive to respond to the onslaught of pain messages from my body. Now, even with the higher doses of pain medications I take, my nervous system can’t do enough to calm my body or ease the pain.

Because of all of this, in my recurring vision , I am angry. However, the doctor is unrepentant and she falls back on the cliché that medicine isn’t an exact science. I imagine standing in front of her, while trying to ignore my intense pain; bewildered that she refuses to accept any responsibility for the errors that brought such significant changes to my life. Thankfully, my anger is broken by a moment of clarity when I realize that there is nothing for me to gain from such a meeting. Nor do I believe that someone who carries herself through the world with an air of superiority would gain from it. As this vision fades, I see the next person in a line of this doctor’s past patients waiting to tell her similar things, but I know she won’t hear them either. I walk away thankful that I found doctors who are willing to listen to me and understand that sometimes when you hear hoofbeats they are zebras.

 

Joni Mitchell – Both Sides, Now