Carolyn’s Online Magazine
BROKEN CAMERA LAUNCHES
AND DECISION TO REPAIR OR REPLACE
“Something’s going wrong with my camera,” I told my husband Monte early autumn. “I’m sporadically getting gray shadows in the upper right hand corner, and I can’t edit them out. I don’t know what’s causing it.”
The problem continued sporadically, eventually worsening until one day I snapped a photo that looked like my camera strap was over the lens.
I checked. The strap was around my neck and would’ve had to do some strange gyrations to cover my lens.
This time the problem remained, rendering my camera useless and adding my trigger finger to the unemployment statistics.
I called a photography group friend, Fred, who already planned on coming to my house to assist me with some electronic questions. When he arrived I showed him my photography results. Very patiently, but persistently, he opened my camera to discover an internal piece had come loose and was swinging over the sensor.
Monte argued for sending the camera to be repaired. My camera buddies and I disagreed. The cost of having someone look at the camera, then repair it, would likely cost more than the camera was worth and that money would be better put replacing the camera. Monte finally ceded to their opinions.
“It’ll be your birthday and Christmas present,” he said, not knowing how to handle my camera withdrawal.
November 23rd we purchased a new camera. I immediately exercised my now weakened trigger finger.
Three weeks later I couldn’t turn the camera on. Neither could Monte.
“Fred, we have a problem,” I said after dialing his number.
“Not that I have to ask, but did you check your battery?” he asked.
He had no answers.
We returned to the store where I bought the camera. I explained the problem to the technician, expecting to replace the product. He took the battery out and put it back in. The camera turned on.
I asked for documentation of the visit.
The camera continued to turn on without any indication of a problem. However, I was uneasy—if it happened once, it could happen again. And it would likely happen after the warranty period.
On December 23rd Monte and I went shopping near the camera store.
“They’re advertising a kit with a 250 mm lens and camera bag for only $50 more than we paid,” he said. “Why don’t you ask them if they’d upgrade the camera?”
“It’s apples and oranges,” I said, agreeing only because of the camera’s problem.
“My husband wanted me to ask you if you’d upgrade,” I said to the female technician.
“No problem. We’re in the Christmas exchange time.”
Monte and I returned home, then drove back to the store. This time the technician who serviced my camera problem in November was there. The camera that had not worked for 36 hours was exchanged easily.
As we drove away I told Monte I thought I’d left my battery attached to the returned camera. We were close enough to the store to return. The mini-backpack holding my spare battery wasn’t on the camera.
“I must have taken it off at home,” I mumbled.
Half way home, as I reached for my purse, I felt the battery backpack.
While Monte shopped for groceries I called the camera store, asking to speak to one of the technicians. Neither was there.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Yes,” I said, explaining what had happened before I continued.
“You can give the technicians a note saying the lady in the Santa hat who stated she’d not taken her Alzheimer’s pill today found her camera battery. I don’t want them thinking I believe someone in the store stole it.”
The operator laughed. We said a jolly good evening and hung up.
Six weeks later the December 23rd camera functions nicely. Hopefully it’ll continue to do so.
I’m grateful that I have a functioning camera. After all, my camera deprivation/withdrawal isn’t fun for anyone near me.
I’m not certain what the general, take-away message is in this post. However, I hope you enjoyed reading about my camera adventure.