Allow me the indulgence of an analogy.
Let’s say you have a second car that you only use for pleasure drives. After work, you haul that bad boy out of the garage and just drive around town to see the sights. In fact, when you bought the car, you even told the dealer this — the car’s intended purpose was for occasional driving in the evening and on the weekends.
“This car is ideal for that,” he said. (Of course he would. He’d say that about anything.)
This car is trouble from the start, though. Some nights, it won’t start. Other times, it will only chug down the street. Most nights though, it runs just fine and is a pleasure to scoot around in, but it’s annoying nonetheless that you can’t drive your own damn car whenever you want.
So you call the dealer to complain. He sends a crew to look at your car. They scratch their heads. They fiddle with a few things under the hood. They pronounce it improved and thank you for your patience.