In case anyone has been wondering what my opinion of toilet paper might be, I’m a fan.
I say this because apparently my review of a variety of mundane items is CRUCIAL to the economic success of just about any and everything. I cannot buy toothpaste, a paint brush or carrots without getting an email or text reminder to “review my purchases.” It’s a carrot. What exactly am I supposed to say? I gave the carrots a five-star rating because while some are imperfect, they do try. I’m not sure how one rates Mother Nature anyway… “four out of five stars. Flavor and color were good, but the soil was a turn off, could have been crunchier.”
In the midst of all this, I also had an (Apple) identity crisis. I have had an iPhone for 13 years. I use it daily, hourly even. It is basically my little handheld home computer. I am very familiar with my Apple account. I am a person who remembers all my passwords (humble brag). Suddenly, without provocation, I was locked out of my own Apple account. I did nothing, and then suddenly, as I was relaxing in the evening, my phone sent out a cry for help: “Your Apple ID is inactive.” This popped up every few minutes over and over. No amount of reasoning with it would make it stop. It was a literal “turn off…” inactive.
I’m as tied into social media and online documents as anyone I know. I pride myself on my zero-based inbox for emails and text messages. Every time I see GirlWonder’s phone with approximately 2,250 unread text messages — yes, really — I get twitchy. All of this is to say I am NOT someone who is generally “inactive.” Fast forward to over an hour online chatting with Apple support, such a nice fella that “Freddie” was. He was absolutely zero assistance at all, but so polite. The short answer: Apple had no idea why my entire Apple identity, which controls my entire phone, was suddenly inactive — big shrug from the tech giant. It was the equivalent of “oops” to the fact that I lost access to 13 years of data, paid apps and the entire interface. I have over 2,500 contacts. Do I contact all those contacts? Absolutely not. Do I want to lose them all? Absolutely not. I literally have subscriptions through Apple Pay that auto-renew. When asked how I could access or cancel them if I no longer had my Apple Account, the answer was another “we really don’t know…” so that was very helpful.
I was not hacked. I am the two-factor identification, double verify, and “text me a code to log in” user. I evangelize being careful online. Not to say it can’t still happen, but Apple did confirm there was nothing nefarious going on. No, Apple itself had decided I was inactive. Why? They simply do not know, so THAT’S reassuring.
Fortunately, despite their customer assistance actually being zero assistance when I started my chat session, I was able to get friendly Freddie to share a link to effectively allow me to beg for reinstatement. He told me it could take some time. After they slept on it, apparently, they did finally send me a little email saying I could once again use my account, just when I was ready to reinvent myself! It was almost becoming thrilling to think of my online identity as a clean slate. There I would be, a whole new woman: no contacts, no old text messages, absolutely no real apps on my phone. I would basically have a phone that made telephone calls and did nothing else, wild to think of it. Ironically, the one thing I did not receive was a follow-up request for review of my customer care experience with Apple.
Obviously, I am imagining that Apple “found” me again upon learning how crucial I am to capitalism and commerce. Obviously, the world desperately needs my opinion on every single item I purchase. If I lost my online presence, who would rate the carrots, toilet paper and toothpaste for the rest of you in my absence?
