What a wild roller coaster week this has been! The fans are chasing off the breeze. Fall is trying to arrive. Grab a cuppa and snuggle into a rocker. Just some short news before Clyde has his say. Let’s talk.
This week has been über-filled with words. Some I could read, some I could not find. The week started with a scare. The book I wrote over the previous two weeks disappeared. Poof! After 48 agonizing hours, the cloud churned it back to the surface. The painstaking process of recovering the edits done during the 48 hours of reconstruction will be complete in time for release next week.
You played a big part in the book. It answers questions The M3 Readers and RedmundPro authors have asked. Plus, it is a workbook. It put the book word meter over 300,000. I cannot wait to see what it looks like when I finish the two in my hopper.
Another word meter has reached a milestone. Today, The M3 Blog has over 800,000 words. (The meters are now only visible on the front page to help your content load faster.)
My return to M3 more regularly has helped. Turns out the people who (must have) answered my questions about blogging (nearly) every day were the Friday Follies participants who lost their platform.
I want to thank, again, Laurie, Janet and Tess for their guest posts on writing, reviews and flash, respectively. Thank you to you for all of your talking back as well. I am very open to guest bloggers. If you have no idea how to reach me, comment; I will reach you.
Right Turn, Clyde!
Clyde has long wondered why humans think their communication is advanced. Despite the technology responsible for computers communicating to humans, machines remain only as smart as their programmers. Despite laws against sharing health-related information, law and programming do not go hand-in-hand.
Customer service is not known for employing those with higher cognitive function nor a clear understanding of the language of their callers. Every single one of them must pass one aptitude test of one question: Is the company ever wrong? The test scores applicants correct if they answer “No.”
Orangs like naps. Twice per day, Clyde’s nap is interrupted by a courtesy call from a national pharmacy’s demon dialer. It calls to inform La Maison de Dwyer a prescription is ready to be refilled. On the surface it sounds like a pretty handy call one would want to receive. Under assumed circumstances, it would be true. We all know what assuming gets you.
Turns out, the prescription is in the last name “Vincent”, a rather common surname in the TCH. After a few of such calls, Red was tired of the cranky orangutan and called said pharmacy. She explained in very small words the telephone number they had did not belong to any “Vincent” and was attached to her account. The pharmacy tech took the number assuring Red the number would be removed from the incorrect account.
Fast forward two days. The demon dialer is calling again. Seems this particular “Vincent” is a sickly person. Another prescription was up for refill. Red, in an tried show of patience (no pun intended), calls the pharmacy again. As luck would have it, the original tech did take the telephone number off of the “Vincent” account. Unbeknownst to the original tech, the telephone number remained on a different account. Tech2 took it off that account.
Despite a plethora of laws prohibiting such information exchange, Red was informed no one in either account had medicine refilled. Red took the time to explain the protocol to the tech, who thought the entire service (which the company requires techs to promote to patients) was ridiculous.
Fast forward two days. The demon dialer is calling again. Apparently, “Vincent” could be terminal.
Are customer service programmers so out of touch with the world they are confident information never changes? Perhaps, they are firm in their belief all patients are diligent in reporting their telephones have been disconnected for non-payment, especially when said patients are paying an inordinate amount to the pharmacy.
What is most disturbing about this entire process?
Fact 1: Information is passed to a computer without human intervention or check.
Fact 2: Information is never processed after transfer to ensure no changes have been made.
Fact 3: Despite disinterested party informing pharmacy of incorrect information, human input does not change the computer application.
Fact 4: Information delivered to disinterested party is unlawful.
Fact 5: Disinterested party has no apparent avenue to rectify situation.
It is enough to make an ape wonder.
Until next time,
Are we so lazy to think computer programmers know what we intend or do we never use the software to assure it does what we think it does? Are we as a society so in need of nannies this type of reminder service is the only way we remember medication?
If you did not take the poll on Wednesday, please do.
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