I'm the one that knows how to wire the entertainment system when we move, to synch the iPad, iPhone, iPod and computer so all the information is available on ALL the devices.
I'm the one that actually reads the directions provided, then annotates the errors, typos, poor choice of grammar and punctuation.
The person who patiently stands behind you at the vending machine and shows you how to unstick your candy bar or actually gets it to accept the one-dollar bill that was printed when Kennedy was in office.
I'm that person. Or at least, I thought I was. Then along came AT&T.
Now, normally, I wouldn't go all angry and spiteful on a specific corporation that has actually provided something in the neighborhood of six years of excellent service. But this week? Yeah, I'm taking them DOWWWWWN!
It started about two weeks ago when The Man Behind The Curtain noticed the phone wasn't working. We had no dial tone, and when you pushed the little talky-talk button, all you got was static. So we moved the base station. We switched the phones. We plugged in the ancient Princess phone we kept for emergencies (why? Hell, I don't know - isn't that what cell phones are for?). But I digress.
And you know how much I love saying that: "I digress."
The stupid effing phone still didn't work. I called the friendly, helpful people at AT&T. You know, the ones so eager to practice their English while they work for dog-slobber half way around the globe? And no, I do not mind in the least when someone wants to practice their English with me and I'm actually quite happy that we have provided them employment and entertainment.
What I do not like is that every other sentence is an abject apology for their inability to depart from their script and actually listen when you tell them "Yes, I made sure everything was plugged in correctly. Yes, I made sure the phone was charged. Yes, I tried a regular, wired telephone." They are abso-freaking-lutely unable to jump past those three lines in the little book they read from and refuse to acknowledge the fact that you do, indeed, have one or two brain cells still working and have followed the same steps BEFORE you called them, and the FUCKING PHONE STILL DOESN'T WORK.
There, I feel better now. But not much.
So, after 12 minutes on hold waiting before the person in the foreign country that shall not be named answered, and another 10 minutes convincing them you really did do all the things they asked you to do and the phone still doesn't work, they put in a service call.
Yes - you are lucky. You get to take another day off work so you can wait around for the service technician to come to your house and do all the things you just did yourself. And they will be there between sunrise and sunset, but most likely just when you decide to actually brush your teeth, or your hair, or your face or what ever is furriest on that day. And when he shows up, of course he looks like this:
And you suddenly realize you have not only neglected to shave your legs, pluck your eyebrows and actually wipe the drool of your chin, but you are wearing your saggy bra, droopy drawers and yesterday's makeup. Ayup, cuz that's how it always is.
The cute service guy wanders through your house that you MEANT to dust last weekend, the laundry you MEANT to put in the hamper last night and the bed you MEANT to mess up with him, and tells you he can't find anything wrong. He checks the box where the cables lead into the house and tells you he found a stray wire and your thinking you'd like to show him a thing or two about stray wires, then he smiles sweetly, says call him if you have additional problems and he'll come back.
And you know you want to go rip the whole damn box off the outside of the house so that you CAN call him back, just like you know instead of sending HIM, they'll send:
Besides, the phone actually works for about 3.2 seconds, and you don't notice it until a few day's later when you actually need it to call about a bunch of crap you took ANOTHER day off work to take care of. So you call AT&T again, and you are in such a great mood when you do it. Like:
You spend 12 minutes on hold waiting before the person in the foreign country that shall not be named answered, and another 10 minutes convincing them you really did do all the things they asked you to do and the phone still doesn't work, they put in a service call.
Why yes, I did cut and paste that from above - thank you for asking.
And you go through another round of scripts. You move cables around and wiggle wires and the FUCKING PHONE STILL DOESN'T WORK.
And the guy in the foreign country decides, from 16 gazillion miles away, that you need a new modem. Brilliant.
The new modem comes the next day. You turn off the computer. You turn off the cable boxes. You turn off the phone. You unplug the wireless router, the computer, the UPS battery device, the cable, the phone line and the data line from the back of the old modem. You plug in the new UPS battery device, the cable, the phone line and the data line into the back of the new modem. You plug in the wireless router and the computer. You comment to the dog how nice it is that all the cables and wires are properly labelled by the cute AT&T technician who was at your house six years ago installing everything, which was also the last time you neglected to shave your legs, pluck your eyebrows and actually wipe the drool of your chin, while wearing your saggy bra, droopy drawers and yesterday's makeup.
And you wait for the angels to sing. And you wait. And....nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. So, you recheck the cables, like the instructions said, you press the little power button down for 15 seconds like the instructions said. You wait another 15 minutes like the instructions said.
Nothing. You check the cables again, you press the little power button down for 15 seconds again. You wait another 15 minutes.
Nothing. You are naive enough to try this process a third time, because maybe you really didn't hear the plug go "snick" when you stuck it in the socket and maybe you didn't hold the power button down long enough or wait the FULL 15 minutes.
Nothing. You call AT&T. You spend 12 minutes on hold waiting before the person in the foreign country that shall not be named answered, and another 10 minutes convincing them you really did do all the things they asked you to do and the phone still doesn't work, and they finally decide you need "Escalated Service." No, what I need is Escalated Alcohol Levels in my blood stream, but not before I get the FUCKING PHONE fixed.
They transfer you to a very nice gentleman who is actually in the same country as you and speaks excellent English and apparently capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound while soothing you like a mama bunny soothes her little bunlettes and he asks you, calmly, to try switching the "data" and "phone" cables.
You know, the ones marked "data" and "phone" by the cute AT&T technician who was at your house six years ago installing everything, which was also the last time you neglected to shave your legs, pluck your eyebrows and actually wipe the drool of your chin, while wearing your saggy bra, droopy drawers and yesterday's makeup.
And the phone works. Cuz the cables were mislabeled. And the angels said "Un-Hunh."
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