ASUS eeePad Transformer – Superb Device / Terrible Service
While the lawsuits over IP infringements and slanging matches over IOS versus Android platforms continue, my recent experience illustrates that despite the arguably superior Android-based ASUS tablet product offering (now superceded by the updated Transformer Prime), with its incredible battery life of up to 16 hours with the attached keyboard dock, onboard USB host ports and card readers, not to mention a UI vastly more flexile than the iPAD’s scaled up iPhone experience, what sets Apple ahead of the the crowd is the customer service one receives when things inevitably go wrong.
The sinking feeling one experiences in their chest when a much-relied upon device stops working is an emotional event. When one is then informed by the device manufacturer’s support hotline that although the only failed item is the device’s AC charger, the entire device must be sent interstate in order to access a warranty replacement for the charger, the sinking feeling is quickly replaced with red-eyed rage.
One’s rage is amplified when told that the process will take a minimum of 7 business days, and of course any data on the device will be very likely wiped in step-one of their diagnosis. The service representative at one point even told me to perform a factory reset on the device right then and there, which not only wouldn’t have helped, but would have deleted all my data which he’d not thought relevant enough to tell me. Thankfully I’m not your average user, so I pointed this out, but the rep didn’t acknowledge my point that they should really tell customers they’re about to lose all their data before saying “hold down the power and volume buttons”.
Were this an Apple device, I’d have walked into one of the several Apple Stores within twenty-five minutes’ drive from my location, presented my device for an on-the-spot diagnosis, and been handed a new charger right then. I’ve had this experience with an iPhone. Accustomed to HTC service, I expected my device to be taken from me and sent to some distant workshop, returned to me after several weeks either inadequately repaired, or replaced with a reconditioned device which hadn’t been as well looked after as my own. To my surprise, the Apple Genius replaced my screen right there and then, and two years later my son now uses that same device which is going strong.
Unfortunately the Transformer isn’t an Apple device, and either through inexplicably poor go-to-market planning, or simple contempt towards their user-base, ASUS have made replacement AC chargers as unavailable to Australians as Apollo Moon-rocks.
Since purchasing my cherrished Transformer, I knew charging would eventually become a problem. As Apple understands very well, information device purchases are soon followed up with various accessory purchases as users consider the various usage scenarios they’re likely to encounter. With the Transformer, due to its requirement for a minimum of 11V delivered via the propriatory charger, in-car charging lacks an easily purchased solution. User forums such as XDA-Developers (the font of knowledge for all things PDA Phone-related since HTC’s first PPC device rocked the world), abound with threads discussing user-built or modified charging adaptors, in response to astonished pleas by new Transformer owners for a charging solution.
Words
Words. Crafted by a determined agitator, words can divide a nation. Spoken by a peaceful activist, they can unite a people.
A single word contrasted by an azure canvass can extend the hand of brotherhood to a fellow countryman, conveying the hurt and shame felt for a previous generation’s wrongs.
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Written by a devious man to serve selfish ends, words can undo a century’s work to rid the world of horrific infectious childhood disease.
Fashioned in law, words can deny dignity in life to those who seek to love who they please, and in death to those who’d rather let go in ill-health.
From the pulpit, a preacher’s words can drive youths to suicide, or a congregation to violent acts.
Words can paralyse a generation as they watch our climate slip toward breaking point through fear of personal cost.
Words can wound. Words can heal. Words can build bridges, and words can kill.
Words are the greatest tool humankind has to shape the world, for they allow the formation and communication of thoughts and ideas, of plans and designs, of love, pain and art through the ages, surviving far beyond the mind which set them free.
Words are a lifeline. Words connect us with each-other, building relationships and strengthening bonds. Words are a suitor’s best friend, and a lover’s gentlest toy. On receiving a letter of love, words can fill us with secret joy.
Words are a conspiracy’s surgical instrument, turning the loyal with conjured doubt. Words build us up, but equally break our heart.
Words are powerful yet plentiful – valuable yet free. It costs nothing to say “you’re appreciated”, yet so few invest the price.
Words can feed the soul, or destroy it. They can build a child’s confidence, or decimate a man’s self-worth. Words can strengthen a woman’s resolve, or crush a team’s moral.
Left unsaid, words can stall a friendship, which could have been great.
I like my words to uplift – to console and to cheer. My words sometimes challenge, but my intent is sincere. I’d rather my words make you laugh, or feel good about some aspect of you, than cause sadness or pain, which I couldn’t bare to do.
My words are a gift, freely given to you.
We all have words. What will you do with yours?
When your mind defects (leaving you without your biggest asset)
Genetics have been generally kind to me. I have no major physical or health defects, my appearance doesn’t usually repulse (despite my lifestyle choices which have led to being overweight, but I’m dealing with that), and I’m generally average at most things, which is a bigger gift than many realise. My greatest genetic inheritance however is my mind. It’s the tool which has allowed me to become fairly successful in my area of expertise, and to generally negotiate a path through my life’s experiences with mostly favourable outcomes.
Image by JD'na via Flickr
My brain’s genetic plan and the subsequent synapse-building experiences of my early years have particulary favoured communication skills and empathy, which I view as intrinsically linked, and the ability to bring to bear a sharp, intense focus: a mix which has been perhaps my greatest strength throughout life. As a consultant, my communication skills and empathy result in rapid rapport and understanding of my client’s pains, motivations and expectations, and my focus allows me to absorb, collate and analyse these inputs very quickly. I can generally turn out resultant work pieces must faster than many of my contemporaries, subsequently allowing me to churn out a high volume of quality work.
Recently however, my ever reliable, identity-defining toolkit has faltered. My mind and body colluded to crush my confidence, destroy my focus and undermine everything which makes me… me. The anxiety attacks I wrote of recently were just the beginning (or at least the first signs obvious to me), of what I now believe will be a long journey of self-discovery, emotional upheaval, and change.
I never understood depression. I sympathised with its victims, no doubt, but I didn’t understand what it really meant. I thought it a cognitive process – a ‘state of mind’ thing, which suffers needed to conquer through determination, counseling and support. I had no idea. I had no concept of how rapidly one’s mind can defect – how quickly your greatest gift can desert you and turn you into a direction-less, hollowed-out zombie, wading through a cesspool of overpowering emotions, pointless thought-loops, and self-doubt.
It wasn’t until I spoke with my GP that some pieces of my puzzle finally fell into place – pieces which the ‘normal’ me would have identified, catalogued, analysed and linked together rapidly. For several years I’ve felt unfulfilled at work, thinking what I do delivers no benefit to mankind and is therefore pointless. For most of this year I’ve generally avoided social situations – usually appealing to me, as I thrive on exchanging ideas and learning new things from other people’s experiences. I’ve avoided emotional entanglements – effectively shutting out emotional stimuli. I’ve been numb. More recently I’ve awoken most mornings before dawn, almost overwhelmed by a deep sorrow, seemingly disconnected with events, easing as the day progresses. Criticisms which I’d normally take on board or reject, depending upon the source and the relevance, have devastated me. I’ve avoided reading, for absorbing information has become very difficult, when usually I read constantly. I’ve cried – sobbed – usually in my car, at the slightest provocation. Songs will do it. Lyrics I’ve heard thousands of times suddenly mean something deep and profound. Reading or hearing about suffering does it too, or the thought that I may have hurt someone I care about.
I’ve never suffered from anxiety. My recent panic attacks were the first I’ve had. Although I’m just beginning the process of working through this, my GP said many things I’ve said are indicative of depression, not anxiety, which suffers tend to battle much of their adult lives. We’re doing some blood tests to eliminate some various things, and we’ll start the process on counseling and so-forth, so we’ll see.
Despite my sympathy for sufferers of depression, the thought that maybe I may yet be described as such is rather horrifying. I know there should be no shame, not guilt, but it’s there. It feels so self-indulgent, so selfish. Yet I wouldn’t think the same of anyone else in this position. It’s chemical. I’m still in here somewhere – I’m just going to need a little help finding myself again.
