When Techs Collide.

I generally have a really hard time with tech support people.  It’s not their fault, really.  I just that know more than most level one techs you are bound to run into on general customer support lines.  That’s not being snotty, it’s just a fact.  For me, having to call a support line is a “9th circle of Hell” sundae with sprinkles.   Unless it’s something to do with cars, home improvement,  or appliance installation, I’m already in need of a level two tech by the time I call*. 

Monday, Gaia, obviously distraught from all us parasites wiggling across her surface, gave a water and power show that reminded us poor fools here on the coast that ones Bug Out/In preps should be kept up year round, not just during hurricane season.  About 1830 hours, while I’m on my puter… KKKAAAAA-RRRAAAAACK! …Darkness…   

“HONEY!” 

“I’m ok.  The Cat’s sprung a leak and headed for his man cave**” 

“Oh crap!  I smell ozone!  Stop the cat!  Keep in the front room!” 

After a brief check of the walls near my outlets to make sure we weren’t gonna do up a right good bonfire, we settled into a night of watching broadcast TV on a little battery operated B&W set.  

Power came back on at 0’ Dark 30.  I stumbled around turning off lights and plugging back in appliances.  I noted that my Comcast, *spit*, modem was the source of the ozone.  I watched its little LED’s give up the ghost.  *sigh*   That means a trip to the Comcast, *spit*, store to get a new one since I was told by the last set of techs that darkened my door that, “… Oh no!  We won’t replace modems with VoIP on them.  No… you’ll have to take that to the store and return it.”  Never mind that was the whole damned reason I had them out.  The problems subsided to a tolerable level so I just kept the darn thing.

But anyway… Next day, off to the store I go.  It’s still flooding in several areas and it’s generally unsafe to be on the road.  But I drive a big 1990 Ford Taurus.  I aint afearring no man!  Well… maybe semis.  So anyway, I get to the store, exchange the modem in no time flat (which should have been my first clue), and head back home.

I plug in modem, call Comcast, *spit*, wait on hold for an hour… FINALLY get a person.  We’ll call him, “Dick”.  “Dick” asks why I’m calling and I tell him.  He starts punching buttons and tells me, “Well, you’ll have you internet up now, but you may not have phone until tomorrow.” 

I’m not sure how I kept my cool.  “What?  Why does my PRIMARY 911 number have to wait a day?”

“Well, sir,” says “Dick”, “you didn’t follow procedure.  You are supposed to have us come out to your home and replace the modem.  You aren’t supposed to take it to the store.”

I must commend my therapist for giving me the tools to not murder a baby seal at that very moment.  *deepdeepbreaths*  “Fine.  Never mind that’s not what your people told me last time they CAME TO MY HOUSE and REFUSED to take my modem, I’ll just make a note of this should anything happen to me where I need 911 service.  And what was your name again, please spell it.” 

After the wonderful cheery call, I proceed to plug in my routers, et al…  Nothing.  WTF?   My routers are on.  I have lights and I can get to the admin web pages for each.  Sadly, all the WAN ports on my beloved D-Links are dead.  “WHY GOD!  WHY!  THEY WERE SO YOUNG!!!”

Flooding prevents me from getting to Micro Center.  So I end up at freaking COSTCO, which I despise, but hey, the spice must flow, as it were.  I grab a Belkin N+ router.  Jury is still out on this guy.  It’s supper fast, but the admin of it will drive a tech to tears.  I get it set up, get me protected behind the firewall (such as it is), and am ready, now at 2PM, to start my day.    *cell phone rings*

“Hello?” 

A young man ( we’ll call him, “Franz”) answers back in a “you ain’t from around here, boy” accent, “Yes, this is ‘Franz’, and I am calling to make sure your phone is working.”

”Nope.  They told me you would have to rest it.”

“Yes sir.  And it is working.”  Notice that was NOT a question.

 “No, it’s not.”

 “Sir?”

*sigh* “My phone it not working.  Let me check again.  *Picks up phone*-*hears hollow static*    “No sir still dead.” 

“Um… are you sure?”

 I really have to thank my therapist.  *sigh*  “I’ll check again.  Let me check the lines.  Maybe it’s not in the right port.  Port 1 of 2.  Right?”  Grunts and groans as I crawl under my desk, cell in hand, and check it. 

 “Um… Yes sir?“

 “Hang.  Let me run the line and make sure it’s not cut or something.”  Another minute or so of moans and creeks as I crawl along the base boards,  ” No… it’s all good here.”  More sounds of grief and woe as I craw back to my desk and right myself.  I pick up the house phone and hear *dead hollow circuit static*  Nope, still deaded.”

 “Your number is <edited for OpSec>”

 “Yes… that’s the one.”

“Really?  It is <Number Edited>.”

“Yup”

“<Number Edited>???”

*sigh**Lawdog’s Migraine Salute* “Yes.  <N><U><M> – <B><E><R> – <E><D><I><T>.  That is MY Number.  The number one dials to reach MY home phone.  Which is, at this very moment, dead.  As a dead my hopes of ever getting any really work done today.” 

 “Are you SURE it is not working sir?”

I now simply can’t be mad.  I’ve honestly reached the point of total disbelief that any human can be so totally sans cluefullness as this young man.  “Son… I think I know what a dead phone line sounds like.  If you want,” I say with all the tenderness of a shark sizing up dinner, “I can put the speaker of it up to my cell so you can hear it?”

 “Your cell phone???” 

 “Yes… My cell ph…” *BELLS GOING OFF!* “Which my home number was forwarded to before the modem blew and I haven’t been able to un-forward.   You called THAT number.  Didn’t you?  Not my cell.” 

 “OH!!!!!!!!!”

 I choke out between belly laughs, “I think *HAH!* I seem *HACKWEEZ* to have found *SNORT!* the disconnect we’ve been *SNICKER!* having.  My God, you must have though *WEEEZ* I was a complete tool! *HAH!*”

 “No sir.  I… um.  No.  I would never… Let me reset the modem again.  Shall I?”

“Yes.” 

“Let me take off the call forwarding and call you again?”

“Sounds like a plan ‘Franz’.  Talk to you soon.”

I now have my phone back.  I now have a new reason to hate tech support.  But I do have to hand it to ‘Franz’.  He did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that he MUST have been thinking I was a complete ID10T.

* if I’m working with cars, home improvement,  or appliance installation, it’s generally 911, not tech support, that needs to be called.  
**Every man must have his Bat Cave.  His Fortress of Solitude.  His secret lair.  His Man Hole.  A Man Cave.  The cat’s is under the bed.  Mine is the office and, occasionally, the bathroom.  Especially after a bad burrito.
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2 Responses to “When Techs Collide.”


  1. 1 Melissa Mendoza May 4, 2009 at 9:09 pm

    Hello Dante!

    I know you don’t like us, so I’ll be brief. I just wanted to apologize for the poor experiences we created for you. I would like to discuss your matter with the leadership team. If you would like our team’s assistance, please email us at We_Can_Help@cable.comcast.com. We’re here if you need us.

    Kind Regards,
    Melissa Mendoza
    Comcast Customer Connect
    National Customer Operations
    We_Can_Help@cable.comcast.com

  2. 2 dantesfiringrange May 6, 2009 at 6:44 pm

    Well… the plus side is that their web spiders work. What was that about saying the devil’s name thrice? I guess I should email them. Will probably do up a post that outlines my loverly experience with “THEM” and email them that.


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Dante…

Conservative, educated, understands history, distrusts government, distrusts politicians, dislikes pop-culture, and carries a firearm. In short, I'm what The Framers of The Constitution were counting on and everything your government wants you to fear most.

The only thing I don’t have to complain about is some GI taking up space in my living room. I’ll let you know about the Civil Courts if someone ever owes more than $20 to me. ---If you didn’t get that one; sue your Civics or US History Teacher.


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Any Spelling, Grammatical, or Typographic errors are the result of my keyboard, public school Elementary education, or Secret Government Ninjas and not fault of the author and his flying through his posts at lunch time. If you see any errors, ping me and I will correct them. Ping me often enough, and I will make you my editor.
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