SO I WAS CHARGING my Kindle this afternoon. Just because. And I turned it off, unplugged it, and put it in my pocket. Toni and I headed out to Half Price Books. Toni estimated the sale of five boxes of books would take about a half-hour. I knew I couldn’t stay on my feet wandering around even a book store that long, so I took the Kindle along to amuse myself while I waited.
Got to the store. Saw the boxes of books taken inside. Found a bench out in the crisp, autumn air, and settled down to read. (H.Beam Piper’s Uller Uprising, if you must know.)
And the lady in the AT&T-sponsored screensaver started to look like she’d been a Picasso girlfriend at one time or another. Resetting the Kindle didn’t fix. Fargle.
So, when we got home after a Red Lobster dinner that couldn’t be beat (thanks, Jess!), I called Amazon, and the bright and cheerful young lady on the phone, there, took my particulars, looked up the device, and allowed as how, “That’s not cool.” And she set me up to get a replacement shipped to me — in hand by Tuesday. Ship the other one back within thirty days in the same packaging.
And I didn’t even have to act like an elected Democrat to get that kind of service.
It’s not that the good ones never have stuff happen. It’s that, when it does, they fix it.