Adverse to crowds, I avoid daytrips into Boston. I choose not to drive in traffic or fit into subways.
But I could not resist a reading of a play-in-progress titled “Privileged Communications,” and I’ve longed to see “The Embrace” since it was unveiled on Boston Common in 2022.
Drove to Wonderland in Revere, the Blue Line’s last stop, parked my Nissan in the lot, and looked up at a sign that read PayByPhone. I have no cellphone, another stress-avoiding measure of the life I choose to live.
Anyway, the website was easy to remember, so I figured I’d easily pay online the next day.
Or so I thought. Unable to find an email address or a phone number, I tapped into a “chat” with a bot cleverly named “Parker” that began by noting that I am “in North America.”
It referred me to the phone number on Wonderland’s sign. Unwilling to drive back, I asked the bot for it, only to then read:
“PayByPhone does not offer a service to pay for parking retroactively or provide phone numbers for past parking sessions. Payments need to be made in real time to avoid any issues.”
I thanked the bot for its mindless AI response, adding that it would serve as a document to prove I made a prompt effort to pay the fee.
Still, I wonder: If we are so diligent in seeing that no one suffers discrimination due to their race, sex, faith, or gender preference, why does a de facto discrimination against those of us who choose to live free of ring-tones, algorithms, robots, tracking devices, and AI’s crude, vapid, and often childish slop go unnoticed?
If we can build ramps for those in wheelchairs, how can we not provide a simple phone number to those more inclined to make and take calls on a landline at home rather than on a mobile device under the summer sun in an unshaded parking lot?
At the station here in Newburyport, I found PayByPhone’s number on parking lot signs. An automated voice, which I could not get past, did not ask for my car’s registration. Instead, it asked me to “set up an account.”
Ah, yes, why not spend a good 15 minutes to type in name, address, DOB, SSN, and whatever else they need before asking you to create, confirm, and then use a password?
Why not? Because I don’t want an account. I just want to settle a one-time fee.
I hung up and braced myself for word from the MBTA. I resolved to pay for the seven hours my car sat at Wonderland, but not a cent for any fine. And I prepared to tell them that in a letter addressed to the Massachusetts Barbary Tribute Authority.
Would “Parker” have known the difference? Would it know American history? Would it relocate me into North Africa?
For two weeks I was ready to battle hi-tech “policy and procedure” with simple arithmetic and common sense. So eager was I to make the case that, after two weeks, I considered going back on-line and taunting the bot.
But my attention turned elsewhere, and seven weeks passed before a bill arrived in the box at the end of my driveway. So much for hi-tech.
And so much for any fine. An $8 balance is about what I would have paid. I saw mention of a $1 surcharge, but didn’t challenge it. So much for my Jeffersonian resolve.
Still, what does this do to others who, like me and many other seniors, choose to “live simply”? Do they worry for a week or two? Do they scrap their plans and drive off? What do tourists do?
Many toll roads and bridges have signs telling us that, if we lack E-ZPass, we will be sent a bill. So easy they put it in upper case, EZ. And yet, for the parking lots, we are supposed to “set up an account”?
As for me, I embraced “Privileged Communications.” Little did I know I’d have to endure them.
Jack Garvey can be reached at hammlynn@gmail.com or at King Richard’s Faire where he is a strolling minstrel, opening Labor Day weekend in Carver.