The Bell Jar
The guy from Bell came today.
AN HOUR EARLY, but that's better than late. Or never.
The kid's name was Luke, and he was very young and attractive. Blond, blue-eyes, six-foot three.
But that wasn't going to stop me from laying the smackdown.
Which I very soon found myself doing.
He was quick to cop a condescending attitude when he couldn't find the problem.
I told him to re-check everything, which he reluctantly did (whining vocally the whole time).
On two separate occasions he mentioned wanting to go to lunch. Um. Not my problem, bitch.
Then he said that he had determined my problem wasn't HIS problem, meaning something in the house was
the culprit. He said it was my kitchen line. When I said the kitchen line was fine, he said "No, I didn't say line, I said phone." REALLY SNOTTY AND STARTING TO CROSS THE LINE.
He angled himself toward the door, handing me an invoice.
No way he was getting away that easy. I called him on his bullshit.
I said: "So, you're saying it's my kitchen phone that's the problem? Well, let's unplug it like so, and I'll go and see if that rectifies things." He got this scared look, and said "Well, as long as it takes less than two minutes, because I'm going to go to lunch." I'm not fucking kidding. This is what the punk said to me.
So I whirled around, (very Joan Crawford v.s. Pepsi Board of Directors) and said: "Two minutes? It's gonna take as long as I say it takes, because I've been dealing with this problem and people like you for THREE FUCKING YEARS!" He stammered something like "I know that sir.." but I was already thundering up the stairs.
Guess what? No dice. Problem definitely NOT FIXED.
I announced my findings, much to his displeasure. Tough shit. "Show me the problem." he snapped.
I took him upstairs, and for the thousandth time, went through the process of me getting cut off.
He stood there while I tried to surf, witnessing for his own eyes my constant disconnections.
Then he got really bitchy and stormed out to his truck. He returned to the house with a massive coil of phone cable.He hooked one end up to the basement perimeter-line and the other to my modem in my room. (All the while bitching about how this was going to take "forever".) My blood pressure was dangerously high at this point.
So he says "This will finally determine if it's inside the house or not." Guess what? Not inside the house.
So he finally says "Well, I'll get you a new platform." And a voice in my head said :"Is "platform" Bell's code for "I don't know how to fix this" ? Who knows.
He left, after scratching out his original "diagnosis" and scrawling "reconfigure platform". He said it was a long process for them to do (didn't explain what the fuck it was in any satisfactory way) but it wouldn't be as long as "three years". I think he was trying to make peace with me here, because he smiled and winked after he said it.
I didn't return the smile. I threw open the door for him and said "Well, I guess we'll see what happens. Thanks, Luke, and enjoy your lunch".