Hard to believe it’s been nearly two weeks dealing with changing domain registrars. By the time this post is published, I’ll finally have pulled off that ridiculously herculean task.
Talk about following breadcrumbs. Switching from one registrar to another took 7 days. So much for the digital age. (Being the infamous 2020 and all, I should probably be grateful it happened at all. Show me what hasn’t slowed down this year and I’ll present you with opposing data.)
Once that hurdle got a green check mark, down, down, down I plunged. To the depths of adding the transferred domain to my existing hosting package. Like most things in existence, it turned out to be not nearly as smooth and straightforward as it sounds. I’ve spent 2 hours and counting with Live Support changing primary domains, figuring out why the new primary is instead redirecting to its predecessor, and other things no one signs up to do on a Sunday morning.
Going back eight years, I used to crank out low-level tech changes at lightning speed. At the time, I was running a startup marketing agency where time was money, and waiting for someone else to implement changes that I could do myself wasn’t part of my patience repertoire.
Now that I’m older and have far less patience dealing with the nitty gritty admin demands of life than in the past – when I was eager to dive head-first into everything I encountered – I greatly appreciate the existence of (pardon the pun) domain specialists.
However, witnessing A’s teenage spirit with its gung-ho approach and can-do attitude, I wonder if it’s not the continued act of delegating responsibilities to others that puts us out of touch with ground-level realities. This certainly seems to be true in business and government settings, where management and policymakers exist in a parallel dimension to the one they’re tasked to serve. Does it also affect internal age perception and outward expression, essentially causing us to become old at heart?
Then again, my brain simply isn’t spacious enough to store information I use once every two years in the priority vault. While I’m not particularly enjoying the slow-crawling process of getting myself back into the bright shiny lights of a web stage all my own, I begrudgingly appreciate the mental muscle workout. I clearly need it.