JULY 2, 2026 – (Cont.) Of course, the page/site provided no guidance as to how one can “contact Microsoft.” In my archives, however, I found two phone numbers associated with the company. I called the first one, only to subject myself to the offensively loud, compressed and repetitive sales pitch for a “free” medical alert device. It was mine for the asking. All I needed to do was “press 1 now.”
I tried the second number. Initially, it sounded promising—“This call may be recorded for training purposes so that we can provide better service, [BLAH, BLAH],” but this proved to be a ruse. The phone number was nothing more than the “code” to a veritable merry-go-round of non-options, garbled and fractured statements, and absolutely no help whatsoever; Exhibit A to the class action complaint against Microsoft. More than a minute of exposure and the caller will need psychotropic medication and advanced psychological therapy to avoid civil commitment proceedings. I hopped off the Merry-go-round to Nowhere at around 50 seconds.
Though my blood pressure was now on the rise, I convinced myself to remain calm, if not necessarily cool and collected. I composed a search query describing my problem—the tech one, not my deteriorating mental state. Searching for answers online was a mistake. The password reset issue associated with Office365, I discovered, is widespread. The internet is replete with customer vitriol far more intense than my own fast rising frustration.
This is where the Apple sales rep who’d handled my purchase re-entered my zone. He was quite busy with other customers, but his patience and proficiency were matched by his efficiency and genuine interest in helping people. He saw me struggling and sat down to see if he could uncover an error in my ways or a pathway over, around or through the barriers to my destination. He was unsuccessful, but I much appreciated his time and efforts and of course, told him so. I was also grateful for a few useful pointers he provided for improving efficiency and productivity on my iPhone. Having fallen short of landing on the moon, as it were, I celebrated the collateral benefits of my otherwise failed mission. I likened it to “Tang” as a by-product of the early space program, which those of us who were around back then know was not a straight line to success.
My (Apple) watch informed me that nearly two hours had lapsed since I’d entered the store. I packed up my things and left.
Though I’d surrendered temporarily, I decided that to wallow in angry frustration wouldn’t lead to a solution any sooner than would the offer of a “free” medical alert device. Besides, I could channel my extreme displeasure with Microsoft into a parody of a class action complaint/lawsuit and sell the rights to it to the highest online bidder. But sometimes what brings greater relief in such circumstances is not good ol’ “’Mrcn ‘sue the bastards’ litigation” (real or imagined) but a psychological fresh start; a deep breath that goes beyond the mere intake of oxygen.
In my case, I’d had a rehearsal scheduled at 4:00 with my pianist collaborator, Sally S., to work on the Beethoven Romance (No. 2) we’re scheduled to play at a gig later this month. After settling a few client issues, I turned away from the day’s central challenge and practiced in preparation for the rehearsal. Soon I was in another world; one in which I was playing music by the ageless Titan as he looked down from his framed portrait on our living room wall. By the combination of his gaze and his music, I regained my psychological equilibrium. There is, in fact, life beyond technology—and techno-malfunction. (Cont.)
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
