Interestingly, among the DVDs I had tried to play on this new machine were several from a major studio which was owned by the manufacturer of the player. What they were effectively telling me was that their machine was made by too strict a specification to play many of the discs on the market, including those of their own manufacture. The fault could not possibly be in the machine, but must be in the discs, which based on my sample included all the DVDs in my collection.
It seemed to me that this technical "support" person did not understand the concept of a 400 disc DVD player - that the user might have a large collection and have the expectation that at least 99% would be playable.
Based on the response I got, which implied the unit was not designed to be capable of the intended and advertised purpose, I did the only logical thing.
Return to sender. Got my money back.
Clearly the unit was faulty, and it was not really the intention of the manufacturer to market a player that adhered so closely to DVD specifications that it could not play the majority of discs. It was my misfortune to get a both faulty unit and a faulty support technician.
But, in theory, I suppose it could be done. A perfect DVD player could possibly be made that followed the DVD specification with no margin of error. And that perfectly manufactured player would then find errors in every disc, even those manufactured to specification by the same company, whether those faults were due to minor manufacturing errors, dust, or microscopic scratches from handling.
But given it would not play a single disc, it would be useless as a player. Anyone who purchased it to play DVDs would act as I did; return to sender.
Many people believe there is a perfect deity, who created all of us, and who also finds fault in each and every one of us.[3] Apparently, none of us are up to that god's standards.
What should we do with that deity?
Return to sender.