Read this if you own a Kindle: common cord problem

Ever since I can remember, one of my favorite ways to pass the time has been to curl up with a good book.  As a kid, I became a master in the art of rapidly hiding a library book at very short notice and striking a natural-looking pose, so I could sneak reads while I was supposed to be studying math. I have since refined my reading methods (and, by the way, passed all necessary math classes).  In January of 2010, I became the proud owner of a hand-me-down Kindle 2, given to me by my dad when he got an upgrade for himself.  My Kindle may be a slightly dated version, but for all intents and purposes, it was everything I ever wanted for reading: a small, portable device capable of containing hundreds of books at any given time.  And believe me, in the almost eight months I have owned it, my Kindle has gotten a lot of use.

Even though I read a lot from my Kindle, I always treated it carefully.  The only time it was ever damaged was the time I dropped it, for which I accept full responsibility, and luckily only the casing was damaged, so it still works perfectly well for reading.  However, the dropping incident did not in any way affect the cord, and the cord is the part I find issue with.

A number of weeks ago, I noticed that on a part of the cord just below the micro-usb end that plugs into the Kindle, the insulation had begun to crack and peel off, exposing part of the wire.  I was surprised, because I hadn't noticed it begin, and it seemed like the kind of thing that would happen over time.  So I showed it to my dad, and we decided duct tape would be the cure.  Upon inspection, however, we found several more places along the wire that had cracks.  So we patched it up, and I went along my merry way.

Skip to present.  I hadn't been paying much attention to the cord, since when I used my kindle I usually focus on the screen.  But today, I inspected the cord only to find that the deterioration had greatly accelerated, and in one place, a piece of insulation the size of the end of my finger had fallen off.  Suddenly, I could see myself being electrocuted as I plugged my Kindle in, or burning the dormitory down in the middle of the night, simply because I wanted to be able to curl up with a good book.  Not acceptable.

So, I checked online to see about ordering a new one.  When I looked at the reviews for the cord, I noticed that several other people had complained of the same problem.  Curious, I checked out the forum, and found this thread: Kindle 2 power cord fell apart.  This thread is full of people posting about the same problem, and there are 1,033 posts.  Wow!  It appears I'm not the only one.  People have complained about their cords falling apart, on average, after two years, but sometimes as early as three or four months.

Even though my Kindle is no longer under warranty, my dad suggested I call customer service about a replacement, since it's a known problem.  And... what do you know? They replaced my cord, free of charge.  They even reimbursed me for shipping.  And the customer service was great too.  Any time I call with a problem, they always say "I'm so sorry for [insert name of problem here]," whether it's my fault or theirs, which I find kind of funny.  My only concern is... is the problem fixed?  Yes, I have a new cord for free, which they technically didn't have to do, since my Kindle's no longer under warranty.  But I have to wonder: will the same thing happen to my next cord?  Or are they going to make them out of better plastic?  Other cords I've owned have lasted for years without problems.  But since Amazon seems to have decided not to issue a recall or a warning, I've decided to issue a warning of my own to my friends who own Kindles:

Regular inspection of your Kindle's cord is recommended for safety.  If you see any signs of cracks or fraying, call Amazon Kindle customer service immediately (1-866-321-8851) for a free replacement.  According to my experience and the posts in the forum, once the damage starts it will progress rapidly.  Expect to replace your cord at least every two years, and at most every three or four months with normal usage.


As soon as my new cord gets here, I'm going to get right back to my favorite pass-time.  Now that I'm an adult, I don't have to hide my reading every time I hear someone coming (although I have to accept full responsibility for my education).  But my Kindle is still my favorite book, because it's more than just a book; it's a medium for reading: it's easy to use, it's very portable, and, for old time's sake, easy to hide.

A Red Sparkle Story, or What I Did This Summer

Once upon a time, in a strange land far, far away, also known as Oklahoma, a young lady returned home from a long voyage abroad only to find that her homeland had been ravaged by a severe drought as well as high rates of unemployment.  Unfortunately in this case, the young lady was (and as a matter of fact, still is) me, and one of those affected by the unemployment was my mother.

                

 Now my mother, who is a psychologist, was looking for a job either teaching or practicing psychology.  However, the giant suburb of a city we were living in did not have many opportunities for that sort of job, so my mother looked elsewhere, which was fine with my dad since his job is done mainly over ye olde internet.  Thus, my parents turned their eyes and search engines elsewhere, and discovered that the Dallas/Fort Worth area had lower rates of unemployment, an abundance of community colleges looking for psychology teachers, and a direct flight to where my dad works.

               

Alas, just as my parents’ idea of relocating was merely beginning to be formed, we received the most dreadful news: our landlady wanted her house back.  And how much time, you might wonder, did we have to find a new place to live? A mere thirty days.  Thus, in a mad rush, our searching began.

                 

Once, twice, thrice we ventured in a southerly direction, spending afternoons searching for houses, but our searches were not fruitful, and were dreadfully exhausting.  The heat was especially trying the day we spent an hour or so waiting in the lawn of a house for the realtor to appear.  When she did arrive, it took some small effort to see past her loquaciousness.  Once we did, however, we discovered an invaluable sagacity acquired from many years of experience.  In other words, she talked a lot, but she was really smart.  This realtor would come to be an incredible aide in finding, and moving into, the proper house.

                 

One particular day, we looked at a rent house whose crooked and sagging floors made us dizzy, and whose rooms reeked of mold and dog pee.  After a brief conference, we decided we could never live there.  Later that same day, we visited a house that stood in stark contrast to that terrible rent house.  Being only eight years since its completion, it was newer than any house we had ever lived in.  The outside was pretty but somewhat plain.  Upon entering, however, the eye was met with a glorious high ceiling, and beautiful arches stretching throughout the walkway, giving the house a certain elegance, and above all, character.  A formal den surrounded by columns was on the left, while a wide staircase on the right swept upward towards the bedrooms.  Farther down, a modern kitchen opened up to the rest of the house, and just above the counters were two glass block windows.  Another plus to the house was its proximity to a large park covered in trails.  This was ideal for my parents since they are avid joggers, and for me, since I enjoy bicycling. 

                 

However, our time was running up.  We only had a week or so left, and the purchase of a home takes time.  Once our offer on the house was under way, we knew we would have one or two weeks of time after our landlady wanted us out of the rent house where we currently lived and before we could move into the new house.  So, we planned to stay with relatives.  After frantically moving all our possessions (except for what we could fit into a few suitcases) into storage, we stayed with my mom’s brother while he was on vacation.  It was almost like being on vacation ourselves, except for the fact that the landlady threatened to keep the deposit for dishonest reasons, and we spent part of the time conferring with a lawyer over the matter.  Later, when my uncle’s family came back from vacation, we went down to Texas to spend the rest of our “homeless time” with my dad’s sister.   Much of that time was very enjoyable as well, what with playing cards in the swimming pool, and other such activities.  However, some of that time was spent conferring with the person putting the flooring in the new house, who kept getting the color wrong, or with the person from the mortgage company, who kept needing more paperwork.

               

Finally, we left for the closing on the house.  In the middle of the long drive there, the mortgage company called and said they couldn’t close that day, and had to put off the closing indefinitely.  We were very frustrated, but we ended up going anyway to stay in a hotel and try to get things settled.  Up until that point, being without a home had never been more than a nuisance to me.  I never lacked for anything; I always knew I would have a place to sleep and food to eat and every worldly necessity, even if I didn’t know where I would be that night.  But after the mortgage company messed up the paperwork and postponed the closing, I felt a taste of the insecurity.  Walking down the sidewalk in the 115 degree heat, getting tired and wishing I could go home, and then realizing I didn’t have a home to go to, was frustrating.  But I knew I was blessed to have a roof over my head each night, wherever it might be.

                 

The day came for my younger sister and I to move into our college dorms, and we still didn’t own the house.  But we had thought ahead.  Everything we would need for our dorms was packed away in a storage room closer to our schools.  So my family temporarily relocated to a hotel near our schools for a few days while we got moved in.  And let me tell you, it was a relief to have a consistent place to sleep.

                 

Now, several weeks after school has started, my parents finally own the lovely new home.  I have been there once since they moved in; it was the weekend the truck came with all our things from storage.  I think I’m going to enjoy my weekends there, and I can’t wait to explore the lovely Dallas/Fort Worth area.  But the moral of this tale is: homelessness stinks, even without poverty.  I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to be affected by both.  So next time you see a homeless person, try to imagine yourself in their place.  

And also, if you were wondering about the title of this story, it is a family inside joke that refers to the name of the company that messed up our paperwork.  You can try and guess what it is if you want, but the name of the company isn't really important.  What is, is realizing that when a company gets so big that bureaucracy ties the hands of the lower level people and keeps them from actually helping customers, that company is too big to be effective.