All I want to do is check my email. Is that so very much to ask?
It seems that you enjoy, nay, find glee in making me click and double click and clickety clack. I can almost hear the wicked cackle of your laughing as I find myself thinking, “I’m almost there! Only 14 more clicks until I can read my emails!”
First, you make me click on the little house, which I don’t mind, really, since I have to be “home” to check my mail.
Then you force me to click on the little envelope and I start to grumble about you under my breath, but I chastise myself for it because if we want our mail, we go to the mailbox, so off I go.
But here’s where I start to get real cranky, because when I open my real mailbox, GLORY BE! I can actually SEE my mail!!!
Not so with you, Vista. You show me that I actually have mail, but you refuse to let me see what it is until I perform more clicking for your sick enjoyment. (Have you ever considered counseling?)
So, I go along with your twisted fun and click “Inbox”. At this point you throw me a bone and let me see who I have messages from, but my performance isn’t over yet.
I choose a message and click on it, only to have you tell me that the message has been blocked for my safety. How very thoughtful of you, Vista, but I’m on to you. You just want me to perform one last click on “View This Message”.
May I ask you a question, Vista? Why in tarnation would I click on “Joe Schmuckatelli” for any reason other than I would dearly LOVE to view his message?
OF COURSE I WOULD LIKE TO VIEW THE MESSAGE! I have performed all you have asked of me, and yet you mock me with the implication that I would click on a name and then what? Change my mind about actually reading what the person wanted to tell me?
You are sick, Vista. Get help.