A few weeks ago the Comcast cable guy arrived at my door to install a “bundle” of high speed internet, phone service, and expanded basic cable - looked around for ten minutes and rescheduled me for two weeks down the road when he had “more time”! (I’d set the appointment two weeks previous so this would make a month looking at a blank screen where History Channel used to be.)
Next time you see those snappy new Comcast ads touting the advantages of bundling your communications services, remember that the installers may not have viewed those ads - may not know how easy the process is supposed to be. The most my guy had to do was drill a hole, run some cable and plug in a couple of boxes yet apparently that required an additional two week’s in-depth meditation on his part.
Friday he returned armed with cable and drill. I explained where the cable had to come through the wall into my office - even applied a little yellow sticky to the wall in the appropriate location. Unfortunately few projects go as smoothly as first envisioned - I try not to get too attached to plan “A” since plans “B”, “C” and “D” soon toss it overboard wrapped in anchor chain. (Plan “D” is my current favorite. It has such a bold, free, and swashbuckling style - kind of a Pirates of the Caribbean sort of plan.)
Even though he was an hour later than expected I was overjoyed and optimistic when Captain Ricky the cable guy arrived at my door, tattoos flashing on his chunky biceps. I pointed out the yellow sticky - he set an extension ladder against the pole across the street, scampering up to disconnect the existing cable (which came crashing down over the red leaf Japanese maple tree). Back at the side of the house he pulled a drill from his tool kit as if drawing a musket on a rum trader - and immediately discovered the cordless drill was useless, its battery dead as Davey Jones’ parrot.
Captain Ricky swaggered to his van for another drill - which proved to be just as powerless (despite the fact that the good capt’n had had two weeks in which to charge it!). While he plugged his flaccid drill into the charger, I located my dad’s favorite old drill - which hadn’t been used since his death in 1978. Plugged into a stout orange extension cord and armed with a two-foot bit, Dad’s antique drill punched through the wall like a cutlas through rotted canvas. At this point I’m having serious doubts about the wisdom of “upgrading” my household electronics since the only thing that saved the installation process was a tool that’s older than I am!
I hear there were other misadventures before Captain Ricky finally sailed away down the street but I wasn’t around for them, having pushed off for writers workshop an hour earlier - Mom was left to man our sinking schooner. Upshot is I still don’t know how to get my laptop on line, we have a fried phone jack, I have no clue how to access my voice mail, and the cable face plate is screwed on crooked. Oh yes, forgot to mention all the screws, snippets of wire, and plaster crumbs that littered my office when I got home. And to add insult to injury the tv remote Comcast provided has numbers you’d need a microscope to read. We’re bound to be exploring a lot of new programing since we can’t use the remote without hitting two illegible numbers at once. Welcome to plan “E” for exploration and exasperation - and possibly electrocution. So if you don’t hear from me for awhile it’s because I’ve been “bundled” into silent running. So much for progress!
