I’m at Starbucks. You know what that means!
No internet at the new place. And no, it’s not my husband’s fault. It’s the internet company’s fault. And it might as well be every internet company’s fault because the “service” offered by every internet provider I’ve ever had has been subpar at best. I hate them all.
When we signed up with the New Internet Company, they couldn’t come out for two weeks. Okay fine. The day they were scheduled to install, they gave us a four-hour window, like they do. Okay fine.
Hubs took the morning off to accommodate their window.
At the very end of the service window, they called him. We got held up with something-or-other, we’ll hopefully be there within another two hours (HOPEFULLY), blah blah etcetera.
My husband is a patient man. (He’s married to me, for god’s sake.) My husband is also an understanding man. But when my husband is done with bullshit, he’s done with the bullshit.
An hour or so later, he received another call. They’re still held up, they don’t know how long they’ll be, and they need to reschedule. By this time, he’s already wasted an entire day waiting for nothing.
You’d think in the day of Uber and same-day Amazon delivery and the myriad ways technology has advanced how we deliver goods and services to consumers that somebody, somewhere, would figure out a way to improve the quality of internet installation.
My husband exchanged some words with the service technician and decided they can go *bleep* themselves. Meanwhile, his wife waddled her ever-expanding derrière over to Sbux, again, so she could make this post. BECAUSE WHAT IS ART WITHOUT SACRIFICE.
As I write this, The Tall Man called with an update. He signed back up with the Old Internet Company. They’ll be out on Tuesday, the service window is two hours instead of four, and they’ll call before arriving. Oh! And we’re getting a better rate for webs that are five times faster than with the other company.
Things have a way of working themselves out.
Happy Friday, folks!