The Up-Sell with Record-Breaking Long Odds
Posted by I.A.M. in BLOG-O-RAMA, Humour, rant, TECHNOLOGY, THINKINESSLast evening I went to the mall needing to get a couple of things at Radio Shack… Sorry, they’re called “The Source” now. One wonders exactly what this name indicates they are the source of, precisely? Pure ‚philosophical truth? Are they the Source of Control? Of flour? Flamingos? Who knows?
Oh yes, and it’s no longer ‘Tandy” which is their in-house brand-name any more, it’s “nexXtek”. Yes, with two x-es. No, I’ve not a clue why, nor how to pronounce that. Stop asking these difficult questions, would you?
I was already off to a bad start on this errand, as I was seeking two items whose names meant very little to me. Given I was wandering into the store which provided me with a Christmas gift one year of the 200-in-1 Electronic Kit (make a real radio that works; all by yourself!), it would be logical to think that this place would provide just about anything that I could not only imagine needing, but everything inside would be old hat to me and my technology geek-out tendencies.
However, a “Terminal Strip” (needed to make this antenna) and a SATA to SATA Data Supply Cable with 4-pin Molex to 15-pin Power Adapter (the new version of a Parallel ATA cable which connects a Hard-Drive to a mother-board as well as supplying power to the drive), were not only things I had to write down in order to remember their names, I ended-up reading the damned piece of paper to the youth in the store because I couldn’t remember a word of them; they were that much of a mystery to me. The fact I wanted to ask the employee if his mother knew he was out this late in the evening (6:30) probably provides a further image of how much out of my league I was already.
We find the two items I desire. Attempting to recall the third thing I wanted to at least check a price on – and forgetting once more that Jennifer needs a case fan for her computer, because it sounds much like a Morris Minor that’s badly in need of a complete lube-job, muffler repair, and new timing belt, starting up on a February morning – the sale is rung up at the till.
Because this is Radio Shack The Source, the originator of the ‘up-sell’ and ‘impulse buy inducement, I was asked if I wanted to take advantage of a wonderful deal for AAA batteries? No; although I allowed as how it was a good deal, though.
Was I interested in a one-year, full-replacement warranty for my SATA to SATA Data Supply Cable with 4-pin Molex to 15-pin Power Adapter? For the briefest of moments I wondered who in heavens name would bother spending an extra dollar in case a $10.49 cable failed in the next year?, then simply said “No, thanks.”
Would I like an iPhone 4 with that?
At which point my brain came to the same sort of sudden stop as when a man’s neck-tie gets caught in a desk fan, and with rather the same incomprehensible panic: what just happened and what do I do now?
I decided the best course of action was to replay the sound in my head, just in case I entirely misunderstood; surely he couldn’t have said that?
Would you like an iPhone 4 with that?
Why, yes! Yes he did! He did just offer to sell me a brand-new, top-of-the-line, slim & sexy, latest fad-crazed mobile telephonic communication device in the same way as if it was entirely possible that one would also want a side of french fries or a larger soft drink to accompany my meal.
I have nothing against the iPhone. I think it’s an amazing piece of design and engineering. That said, would one decide to select one with such a devil-may-care approach to its selection that one would jump on the opportunity whilst purchasing anything so astonishingly minor as a cable and a block of plastic that helps you to connect two bits of wire? Perhaps I have finally reached that state of time when one is considered “old” and “un-hip”! A mobile phone is not something I’d think “sure, why not! I hadn’t been thinking about that until you mentioned it, but… what the hell?! Slap one of those bad-boys on there, son!” Surely one would take more time as a careful consumer when even considering making such a purchase? The number of competing billing plans alone are enough to confuse a fully-trained Quantity Surveyor!
So… let’s see… We have a deal on batteries; check. Extended warranty plan; check. Paper or plastic; check. Debit or Credit; check. Make your meal a ‘biggie size’; check. Would you like to add a high-tech communication device with incredibly complicated billing system which may very well tie you into emptying your bank account every month for the next three years; check, apparently.
Dashing from the store into the mall, I pass a little cart with sign identifying it as something like “The USB Station”. Other than “things”, I’ve not a clue what they were selling. No idea at all. they looked like light-switch plates, or possibly audio cassette tape cases. Or maybe they were plaque-like Christmas ornaments? I couldn’t tell. From the sign, one might have supposed them to be employing USB-technology, but for what purpose I couldn’t discern. they might ahve been flash-drives, or hand warmers, or some sort of internally lit ornaments doubling as Wankel Rotary Engines for all I could tell.
I panic. I’ve just left a store which once filled my technology-craving heart with joy and is now filled with things I cannot understand the use of, and which is attempting to have me purchase things on an impulse which I consider the acquisition of as being as serious as buying a car. I have just passed a cart selling things using a technology I fully comprehend, yet of which cannot identify the end-use. The walls begin closing in; the grey hair begins leaping through my scalp; my spine begins to bend; my breath to make that wheezing sound… I must leave as quickly as possible before I am found sitting on a bench making the “yyyuuuup yup yup.…” sound of the ancient.
I see no exit, but locate a map of the labyrinth. After a good 45 seconds the “You Are Here” circle is located, and the nearest egress is identified. In order to get my bearings, I stand with my back to the sign, glancing over my shoulder at its map, waving my hands in front of me as I visualize the route which leads to freedom. Doing this makes me look like a raving mad-man.
I do not care. The place is filled to the rafters with tiny youths, wandering aimlessly, staring at the ground about seven feet ahead of them, yatting into their iPhones. Clearly they’ve already visited The Source.





















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