A glitch in the system

Stressful: we’ve all been there.

The horror, the helplessness. Have you felt it recently as you navigate a booking website, a company’s phone centre, the MyGov site? As you’re asked for a password and by the time you try the 11th possible combination you’ve created for yourself you’re locked out – and it feels like you’ve lost 10 years of your life in the process?

This all too-familiar feeling of powerlessness and panic came upon me recently when my second Pfizer jab appointment mysteriously disappeared from the government booking system. Both jab dates had been secured, yet when I had to confirm the second timeslot three weeks after the first, Computer Said No. Nothing available, go to the back of the queue. But the booking existed three weeks ago! It was there! Computer. Says. No.

In this moment in our nation’s history it’d be fair to say there’s quite a lot of anxiety about. Politicians hector and lecture us about getting our vaccinations but excuse me, exactly how easy is it, for so many of us? Shouldn’t said politicians have sorted this situation sooner in the first place? Uncertainty reaps stress. We crave security, control, the known. We’re tired of the mixed messages and the confusion and the blame shifting – onto us.

Respected governments are those that look after their people. Efficiently. Fairly. Clearly. If you’re a politician and your jabs were secured way earlier than for the vast majority, possibly with the help of assistants, do you have any idea of the frustration among many as we wait, while being hectored to get our vaccines – when often it’s not quite as easy as it sounds? This feels like how big business operates in the public sphere in terms of us, the annoying little people. It’s about leaving it to the customer to work out how to sort it and it’s their fault if they can’t. Some of us have English as a second language. Some of us don’t use computers.

A reader, Fran from Perth, witnessed a supermarket scene in which a single sales assistant, close to tears, was looking after a growing queue of customers. “Do It Yourself seems to be the big business mantra today,” Fran wrote. “But who actually thinks of the customer’s feelings, or what angst is caused by policies they’ve instituted?”

“Personal interactions with big businesses are now mostly obsolete. ‘Press button 1, 2, 3 or 4.’ But none of these options addresses a query that if answered by a human might be a simple Yes or No. ‘We’re currently experiencing more than the usual number of calls. Go to our website.’ The results – hours of wasted time; incomprehension of computerese; the site doesn’t work as expected and you don’t know what to do next; user names and pins. Now, on certain parking meters when you’ve just walked 100 metres from your car you have to remember your licence plate.”

Fran continues: “I feel for the older one-sixth of our population who might’ve been enjoying their remaining years free from paid work, and are instead experiencing the demands and expectations of capitalism and cost-cutting that are making their remaining years frustrating, anxious and stressful.”

That was my dad towards the end. Struggling with cancer and navigating a health system that seemed downright hostile to a non-tech elderly person. Doctors would cancel or reschedule appointments via text, which his simple seniors phone didn’t receive. And he didn’t do emails. He was reluctant to accept help and his final year was spent in a spiral of discombobulated stress and panic. He was left in modernity’s ruthless wake.

Postscript. I finally got the second jab after talking to three different people on the government helpline. The very helpful final adviser blamed “a glitch in the system” for some appointments dropping away. After the second needle I asked if I’d receive some kind of paper record to prove I’d been vaccinated; a digital certificate sent to my phone, perhaps? “Go to MyGov.” Ah, simple, clear, easy to access MyGov. My heart sank.