I'm back...and I have a rant.
What better way to reincarnate on LJ than to rant?
So I got home around 6:15ish today. My typical routine when I walk through the door is this:
1) Put keys on lower right prong of coat-hook.
2) Set backpack down beside easy chair.
3) Place cell phone next to laptop.
4) Hang coat on coat-hook.
5) Turn on laptop.
6) Change into PJs
7) Sign onto laptop.
8) Start dinner.
9) Check email, Facebook, etc. while dinner is cooking.
10) Eat
After dinner, I start homework, whether that means grading papers, writing a lesson plan, or doing something for one of my own classes, then I typically devote the last of my waking hours to recharging my proverbial batteries, often by wandering aimlessly on the internet. It's a straightforward routine that is both efficient and orchestrated down to the smallest movement, like a ballet performed by flannel-clad twentysomethings in motorized armchairs.
Today, however, I hit a snag at step 9. No internet. Now, I have two computers: a laptop, which is my primary computer and which I also sometimes take to school; and a desktop, which I use for printing homework, gaming, and maintaining my internet connection. I also have a wireless router, so I can use my laptop without being tethered to the wall. So, I messed with all of the settings I could think to mess with on my laptop. After about five minutes, I still could not access the internet. Somewhat defeated, I turned on my desktop to see if the problem affected both computers. As it turns out, it did affect my desktop as well. More tinkering of settings ensued. By this time, I had been home for roughly 15 minutes, I was already in my pajamas, and I had a mini pizza in the oven. When my oven timer beeped at me, I decided to throw in the towel and call tech support.
I am used to hearing a Leave-It-To-Beaver, bake-sale-bombshell, God-bless-America sort of voice when I get an automated tech support service. I had no illusions of getting a living, breathing, working-an-extra-shift-so-my-kid-can-get-braces person on the other end of the line. That being said, I did not expect that the automated service -- let's call her Betty -- would be trying to help me fix my connection. So Betty asks me to briefly explain my problem. I tell her (yes, verbally) that I cannot connect to the internet. Betty says that she thinks she can fix that. Well I certainly hoped so. After the obligatory information verification (phone number, last four digits of my social security number, blood type, so forth), Betty asks me some basic questions, like whether or not my computer is turned on. Once the basics have been ruled out, Betty then asks me to restart my modem by unplugging it, then plugging it back in. I oblige, merrily, and patiently wait when Betty tells me that she will tell me once she can see that my modem is back online. This takes mere moments. But Betty informs me that there is a problem. My modem is online, but it doesn't seem to be playing well with Cox, so the signal doesn't seem to be flowing smoothly in both directions. Why don't I restart my computer and get a new IP address? So, I restart my computer and tell Betty that I'm ready to continue. It seems that my modem is still refusing to share its toys with Cox. Do I happen to be using a wireless router, Betty inquires cheerily. Why yes, Betty, I do indeed have a wireless router (how did she know?!). Well we needed to rule out the router as a problem, so I had to disconnect my wireless router (which meant switching around the ethernet cables so that my modem is plugged directly into the computer rather than in the router). With the modem plugged directly into desktop, I need to reboot the modem (for whatever reason). Still no internet access. Maybe I should restart my computer again.
Now by this point (roughly 30 minutes into the call), Betty and I have established some sort of rapport. She has seen me through two computer reboots, two modem reboots, and minor surgery. So when she tells me that she has collected all of the data that she can, however, I am a little sad at the prospect of seeing (well, hearing) her leave. Still, she assures me -- with her stoic, silver-lining tone -- that she will be transferring me to someone in the tech support department who will finish my report. Before leaving me, Betty says that I will have to wait at least ten minutes before I can speak with a Cox representative. So, left to my own devices, I make for my kitchen and scarf down some slightly-cooled pizza. With Muzak seeping through the earpiece, I squeeze my cell phone between ear and shoulder, freeing both hands to tear salty-cardboard-tasting pieces of Totino's sausage "party pizza" (who's bringing the booze, that's what I wanted to know) and lift them clumsily to my mouth. By the time the pizza is gone, Betty -- whom I feared I would never hear from again -- has returned just long enough to say that a representative will be with me shortly.
More than 10 minutes later (ballpark estimate), the representative comes on the line. He's got a huge frog in his throat (Pharoah may have had his umbrella open while Moses and his people laughed derisively), and he hacks his way through the same preliminary questions that Betty had already asked me. After I tell him my shoe size and deepest fear, he informs me of the following situation: apparently, there is a service outage in my area, and I am one of the affected customers. Not long before I called tech support, something happened to Cox's service -- perhaps a cable line was knocked down by a UFO -- and now Cox employees, both hardware and software technicians, are working to fix the problem.
...so I spent just over 42 minutes on the phone to tech support only to be told that I can't access the internet because the internet in my area is down.
Cox...your friend in the digital age.
With friends like these....
So I got home around 6:15ish today. My typical routine when I walk through the door is this:
1) Put keys on lower right prong of coat-hook.
2) Set backpack down beside easy chair.
3) Place cell phone next to laptop.
4) Hang coat on coat-hook.
5) Turn on laptop.
6) Change into PJs
7) Sign onto laptop.
8) Start dinner.
9) Check email, Facebook, etc. while dinner is cooking.
10) Eat
After dinner, I start homework, whether that means grading papers, writing a lesson plan, or doing something for one of my own classes, then I typically devote the last of my waking hours to recharging my proverbial batteries, often by wandering aimlessly on the internet. It's a straightforward routine that is both efficient and orchestrated down to the smallest movement, like a ballet performed by flannel-clad twentysomethings in motorized armchairs.
Today, however, I hit a snag at step 9. No internet. Now, I have two computers: a laptop, which is my primary computer and which I also sometimes take to school; and a desktop, which I use for printing homework, gaming, and maintaining my internet connection. I also have a wireless router, so I can use my laptop without being tethered to the wall. So, I messed with all of the settings I could think to mess with on my laptop. After about five minutes, I still could not access the internet. Somewhat defeated, I turned on my desktop to see if the problem affected both computers. As it turns out, it did affect my desktop as well. More tinkering of settings ensued. By this time, I had been home for roughly 15 minutes, I was already in my pajamas, and I had a mini pizza in the oven. When my oven timer beeped at me, I decided to throw in the towel and call tech support.
I am used to hearing a Leave-It-To-Beaver, bake-sale-bombshell, God-bless-America sort of voice when I get an automated tech support service. I had no illusions of getting a living, breathing, working-an-extra-shift-so-my-kid-can-get-braces person on the other end of the line. That being said, I did not expect that the automated service -- let's call her Betty -- would be trying to help me fix my connection. So Betty asks me to briefly explain my problem. I tell her (yes, verbally) that I cannot connect to the internet. Betty says that she thinks she can fix that. Well I certainly hoped so. After the obligatory information verification (phone number, last four digits of my social security number, blood type, so forth), Betty asks me some basic questions, like whether or not my computer is turned on. Once the basics have been ruled out, Betty then asks me to restart my modem by unplugging it, then plugging it back in. I oblige, merrily, and patiently wait when Betty tells me that she will tell me once she can see that my modem is back online. This takes mere moments. But Betty informs me that there is a problem. My modem is online, but it doesn't seem to be playing well with Cox, so the signal doesn't seem to be flowing smoothly in both directions. Why don't I restart my computer and get a new IP address? So, I restart my computer and tell Betty that I'm ready to continue. It seems that my modem is still refusing to share its toys with Cox. Do I happen to be using a wireless router, Betty inquires cheerily. Why yes, Betty, I do indeed have a wireless router (how did she know?!). Well we needed to rule out the router as a problem, so I had to disconnect my wireless router (which meant switching around the ethernet cables so that my modem is plugged directly into the computer rather than in the router). With the modem plugged directly into desktop, I need to reboot the modem (for whatever reason). Still no internet access. Maybe I should restart my computer again.
Now by this point (roughly 30 minutes into the call), Betty and I have established some sort of rapport. She has seen me through two computer reboots, two modem reboots, and minor surgery. So when she tells me that she has collected all of the data that she can, however, I am a little sad at the prospect of seeing (well, hearing) her leave. Still, she assures me -- with her stoic, silver-lining tone -- that she will be transferring me to someone in the tech support department who will finish my report. Before leaving me, Betty says that I will have to wait at least ten minutes before I can speak with a Cox representative. So, left to my own devices, I make for my kitchen and scarf down some slightly-cooled pizza. With Muzak seeping through the earpiece, I squeeze my cell phone between ear and shoulder, freeing both hands to tear salty-cardboard-tasting pieces of Totino's sausage "party pizza" (who's bringing the booze, that's what I wanted to know) and lift them clumsily to my mouth. By the time the pizza is gone, Betty -- whom I feared I would never hear from again -- has returned just long enough to say that a representative will be with me shortly.
More than 10 minutes later (ballpark estimate), the representative comes on the line. He's got a huge frog in his throat (Pharoah may have had his umbrella open while Moses and his people laughed derisively), and he hacks his way through the same preliminary questions that Betty had already asked me. After I tell him my shoe size and deepest fear, he informs me of the following situation: apparently, there is a service outage in my area, and I am one of the affected customers. Not long before I called tech support, something happened to Cox's service -- perhaps a cable line was knocked down by a UFO -- and now Cox employees, both hardware and software technicians, are working to fix the problem.
...so I spent just over 42 minutes on the phone to tech support only to be told that I can't access the internet because the internet in my area is down.
Cox...your friend in the digital age.
With friends like these....