Throw Me a "Help" Line * August 3, 2007 

Dear Fellow Cyber Citizens,

    “Does that look right to you?” I asked my husband, pointing to a cable hanging in an elegant loop from the telephone pole across Kissimmee Park Road (the road in front of our house) to the telephone pole on our property.  A rattling pick-up truck slammed on its brakes in a smoking, screaming skid as its driver tried to avoid the dangling cable.

    “You mean the cable that almost caused that truck to crash in front of our faces?” I nodded.  He sighed.  “No, that’s not right.”

    “That’s our Internet cable isn’t it?” I said.  My husband sighed again.

    “Yep.  That’s the one.”

    A police cruiser swerved off the road as it avoided our Adelphia High Speed Internet cable connection.

    I sighed.  “I’ll call them.”

    I called the repair line and twenty-seven minutes later—on  hold—and after more elevator music than is good for any kind of healthy neural transmissions,  I finally hung up and called the Get More Stuff for a Lot More Money Line.   Sally Lu answered my call in twenty-seven seconds.  “What can I sell you today?” she said.

    “Nothing!  I need to get someone to fix . . .”
   
    “You have the wrong department.  I’ll transfer you.”

    “No, no, please no.”  Click! Click! Click!  A voice began to sing Wildfire. I started to cry.

    Later that week, I stood on the back porch, my right hand touching the metal frame of the screen porch, my left leg cocked at a ninety degree angle on the porch swing, and my head tilted slightly forward and  to the left.  I was attempting to make a cell phone call.

      “What in the world are you doing?”  My husband asked.

    “Trying to get a cell phone signal.  If I orient myself,” I explained, spinning on my toe, while slowly rotating my neck counter clockwise, “just so, while looking at the north star I can get two bars.”

    “Who are you trying to call?”

    “Adelphia.  Remember that bucket truck that came out to fix the Internet cable?”

    He nodded.

    “Well, it fell off.”

    “What did?”

    “The cable.  The cable fell off the pole.  Go look!  There’s a big puddle of cable in our yard and no Internet service.”  I froze, thinking that I might have detected some static.  “And don’t forget what happened last time they forgot to fix the cable and just left it laying around in the yard.”

    “Right.  You were nowhere near it when you chopped it up with the lawnmower.”

    “Exactly.”

    “Why don’t you just use the phone in the house?”

    I smiled at his simple, simple child-like logic.  “Honey, we haven’t had a dial tone in three days.”

    “So, basically we’re cut off from civilization.”

    “Don’t be silly.  The mail still works—the bills get here just fine.”

    Sigh! Personally I’m ready to go back to simpler times when two tin cans and a string represented “high tech,” and when we weren’t on a first name basis with the girl from the “help” line.

     Her name’s Margo and she’s real sweet.  She actually acts like she cares.  Last time we chatted, she was telling me that last winter they lost power in the middle of the worst winter storm in fifty years.  She lives in Missouri.  They were without power for two weeks—no heat, phone, Internet, etc.  Let’s face it, she told me, when this stuff happens you are on your own.  I couldn’t agree more I said.  I told her about our hurricanes.  We swapped survival tales.  She apologized for how long it was taking to fix stuff.  I told her not to worry about it.  At least you’re not in India I told her.  She laughed.   We chatted some more.  We exchanged phone numbers.  I’m going to try and make her kid’s graduation next year.

    And the Internet, cell phone, and regular phone, did they get fixed you may ask?  Kind of—most of the time—sort of, depends on what you mean by fixed.  In the meantime, Adelphia was just bought by Comcast and that means that my email has changed—AGAIN.  Sigh.  What a hassle you may say.  Yes, but there’s always Margo,  Carlos,  Skippy, or Gupta that I can call who can walk me through the process so that I can be sure to be on the cutting edge of cyber frustration.  Ain’t modern life grand?

    Linda (Just Send Smoke Signals) Zern        

   

                            ATTENTION:  MY EMAIL HAS CHANGED—AGAIN—SO IF YOU WANT TO TRY AND KEEP UP AND FRANKLY I DON’T BLAME YOU IF IT’S ALL JUST TOO MUCH—
IT IS:

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