Slice of a Disconnected Off-line Life

FRIDAY:
Have you missed me? While I was working at my computer, I turned on the noon broadcast of Amy Goodman on Democracy Now! and watched it to the end. As a reluctant Facebooker, I’m never caught up, but I did note a few recent stories, among them that vandals sliced some fiber optic cables in the Santa Cruz area leading to at least one of my friends being totally off the grid for a full day.

I tried to open a couple of emails, but they came up empty. In both cases Comcast gave me one of those blushing “whoops” messages and told me to “click here.” But clicking took me nowhere. Then the TV news went down, replaced by a note on the screen instructing me: “One Moment Please. This channel should be available shortly.” I tried CNN. I tried MSNBC. They were united in their insistence that they needed “one moment please.”

I picked up the phone to call Comcast to see what was up. No dial tone. I have the triple-whammy package with Comcast and suddenly I had visions of the California saboteurs making it to the East Coast in a national anti-cable attack.

The problem with using my cell phone to call Comcast is that just this month I reduced my program to a very low-minute one, as a savings measure, so I knew that contacting them would cost me a bomb if, as usual, they took their sweet time shuffling me from one nice undertrained operator to the other. Three very long calls later and all I had achieved was a promise that my bill would be credited for a day and that a technician would come tomorrow between 9:00 and 11:00a.m. (See the $3 million Comcast bill to the left.)

What about lost work? I had left Friday completely free to deal with two pressing freelance jobs that involved both the internet and the phone and was unable to do either. The first is a total loss; the second I can probably delay. What about my cell phone minutes? What about having to spend the day pissed off from being abandoned out of reach of civilization?

I know I should be offering biting observations about my dependency on technology, but that seems very 1990s. Duh. I’m dependent. I’m a writer, blogger, researcher. I have friends around the world. I receive and send documents and phone calls.

I didn’t collapse in frustration: I searched for options. I now live in a town that prides itself on being enlightened and progressive. I remembered my laptop. I live in a building with 35 apartments surrounded by houses – someone has to have unsecured wireless service, as I do. Maybe I can even pick up my own wireless (nope, can’t). I scrolled through the dozens of wireless addresses brought up on my list. Not one unsecured. Not one. What the hell is wrong with people? If someone really wants to get into your online knickers, clicking a “secure” box is not going to prevent them.

Unable to escape isolation at home, I decided to go to the library and use their wireless – at least to put up auto-messages to explain my disappearance – but after calling them on my cell-phone, I was led to ask, Why is this night different from all other nights? On all other nights the library stays open until 9:00 but on Fridays it turns out to close at 5:00. And it was 4:50.

OK, what about a café. Perhaps that café just a few blocks away named Something-Java had wireless. I’ll just do a quick search for the number… Nope, I won’t, can’t. I decided instead to clear out the shelves near the front door. On the bottom I found four local phonebooks of various types. Two of them had fonts entirely unsuitable to 60-year-old eyes. None of them seemed to list anything except the chains (I don’t patronize Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts doesn’t have wireless) and I realized that these must all be paid listings.

Oh dear, I had promised to call my friend Sandy who is visiting our hometown Pittsburgh, but of course her travel phone numbers are in an email. In fact, ten times an hour my mind does the “look it up” thing, but by the time my hands twitch on the keyboard, I remember that it isn’t an option.

I am used to keeping on the TV as company – usually a so-called-news channel –while I write. The radio is okay at the top of the hour, but otherwise it requires me to pay attention, so it is the opposite of empty company. The DVD player is independent of Comcast, so I played my beloved, much-viewed public television Doo Wop DVDs.

I remembered the adorable 6” TV I have plugged in on my kitchen counter to keep me entertained while I cook and clean in there. It has a wonky antenna and gets at least two snowy channels reliably. However, once my Waldorf salad was done and every corner was cleaned, I couldn’t see continuing to just stand pathetically in the middle of my kitchenette staring at whatever the two channels were providing.

My partner called my cell in early evening. Human contact! “Why not just bring the kitchen TV into the main room and plug it in there?” Genius. I find this combination of lateral thinking and problem-solving ability very hot.

I set up the mini-TV, destined to be obsolete by June (the switch to digital from analog was put off from February to June because of poor national preparation) and happily have my pick of either channel.

It was, in the end, a productive day. I revised a couple chapters of the novel I’m working on, I wrote a draft of an article about writing the Sarah Palin book in 28 days and my kitchen is spotless. Now I’m awaiting the technician.

SATURDAY
At 10:15 Tom arrives and wants to know if I paid my bill. Uh, unfortunately, I did. He goes down to the laundry room and unlocks the control panel and by the time he comes back up the hall, everything is working.

Comcast has, itself, turned off my everything! Apparently a technician must have been in that cabinet yesterday and because, Tom theorizes, my connection was not marked with my name, the technician assumed it was a pirate connection and disconnected me. He offers three measly months of HBO as compensation.

I want more. Much, much more. Lost work. Wasted time chasing them. Expensive cell phone minutes. Hands raw from cleaning the kitchen. And emotional distress. I’m open to suggestions, friends. What should I demand? (I'll be sure to let you know the final outcome as it ain't over yet.)

Comments

[Dr. Susan Corso]

Katz, when a megaconglomerate puts me over a barrell, I write a letter to the highest-ranking person I can find in the company, and SEND THEM A BILL FOR MY TIME. It invariably pokes the right person/button and they offer to make amends! Try it.

[Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore]

Oh, I like Susan's idea...

But I wanted to reply to your earlier question about why the hell everyone has their wireless access locked, I mean what the hell is wrong with these people? I guess that's not really a reply -- just an agreement -- maybe we need to start a campaign to educate people about what exactly that means...

Love --
mattilda