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A month or so ago
our household made the fateful decision to restructure our media providers.
Our cable television bill, combined with internet service from the same
provider, was becoming the equivalent of a car payment. We decided to go to
satellite television, and accept a package deal from a well known telephone
and internet provider, whom for the purposes of this column I will call
"Horizon". It is uncanny that after my experiences this past week, there
were times when the horizon seemed closer and more attainable, than a simple
solution to a problem.
Knowing in advance that my lack of computer skills would make the "simple"
switch of internet providers elusive to me, I hired a private computer geek
to come and switch modems and all that stuff. Monday was the day the cable
provider was supposed to disconnect their service, and the new service was
already run to the house, supposedly. I had hoped for a smooth transition as
during this week, I had several articles to write for a local newspaper.
Just ad copy for special full-page ads for local businesses, but stuff that
was on a deadline and down to the wire. E-mail would be essential. So,
Monday afternoon the compgeek shows up with his little tool box and dives
in. Uh-oh. I get a phone call from him that there is no usable internet
signal at any phone jack in the house. This is where the fun starts.
This sets off the inevitable call to the 800 number. This is the torture.
These arcane voice prompt systems that require first, and always, your ten
digit phone number and a host of other information. Then, you are launched
into a netherworld of incompetence that knows no rival. Endless hold periods
interrupted by the same recording, over and over, about how much they
appreciate your patience, and the mandatory walk-through of self-help tips.
Finally, a human on the other end of the line. Not well-versed in English,
but human, nonetheless. Incredibly, the first thing she needs is your ten
digit phone number and all the same information you've already rendered
about 32 times just to get to this point. After all this, she tells me I
need "residential" which at first I take to mean in-patient mental
treatment, but find out instead that this is another department which must
take my service request. Again, a new department, the ten digit phone number
and other information, endless hold, recordings and finally, another
semi-human. The human, of course, needs the phone number again. A little
more waiting while she "pulls up" my account, wedgie-like, no doubt, and I
now have a service appointment. They are sending a tech out today.
The tech shows up rather quickly and finds a problem at the pole, and
ultimately gets the internet service run to the box on the outside of the
house. Compgeek returns with the little tool box, dives in and finds.....no
dial tone. Now, the Horizon tech has left and I have internet, but no phone.
Set aside two hours, and repeat paragraph 3 from above. Are you getting the
picture? Another tech returns the next day. This one is from the "Analog"
department. He succeeds in getting the phone service working. A call to
compgeek, and he is back the next day. During all this, I am writing these
articles and having to fax them to clients for proofreading and changes.
Everything is slowed way down now because we are trying to fax documents
back and forth for changes. The vein in my neck is beginning to bulge.
So, compgeek returns and finds this time that although there is a good
internet signal at the outside of the house, there is still no usable, or
"synchronized" signal at any of the phone jacks. The only solution is a
separate line from the outside box directly to the computer terminal. Once
again, bear with me now while I "pull up" your account, repeat paragraph 3
from above.
Finally, after howling like a deranged wolf at a supervisor from "Horizon",
on Thursday a tech returns from yet another department and runs the new
line. Naturally, even then it didn't work, and I had to spend about an hour
at the computer while the compgeek fixed the problems remotely. I learned a
valuable lesson, though. All those offers in life that come along that seem
"to good to be true", almost always are. I spent more last week than I stand
to save over the next year, and I can't even put a dollar amount on the
aggravation. I only wish, that half way through, I could have "pressed 2" to
return to the Main Menu, or even better, to a month ago when we decided to
switch providers.