When Computers Attack

After living out of a suitcase the last few weeks both with and without Barkley, I was looking forward to a quiet weekend of sleep, making some French pastry and catching up with the blog world.

It felt good to be home, Barkley was more than ready for mischief (so much for the spare roll of T.P.)

Then I turned on my laptop.  It's been getting slower and slower the last few times I used it. So Friday night, when it kept knocking me off line, I took it over to the coffee shop and tried their wi fi. It worked great.  It's not the computer.

I called Brighthouse in the morning. I had been a customer of ComCast before I moved.  At ComCast the only way to get a real person to speak to was to select the menu option indicating you wanted to SUBSCRIBE to Comcast, not that you already had it, and you'd have someone on the line in seconds.  But for tech support, be prepared to hold for an hour or more.  IF you got someone, they were LESS than helpful.

Now I have Brighthouse.  I'll be honest, I didn't have high hopes.  I'd called them to pay the bill once, that works pretty well with a voice recognition help desk provided you don't get distracted.

"Thanks for calling Brighthouse Network."

"Are you calling from a phone associated with this account?"    "YES"

"In a few words tell me what you're calling about."    "MAKE A PAYMENT"

" What is the last four digits of your SSN?"  and more and more question, watch the clock tick, wishing your computer wasn't acting up.

"Do you wish to make the payment of. . . "     "Great Leaping Horny Toads Barkley, those are my NEW panties!"

"I don't understand what you are saying". 

SIGH

"Thanks for calling Brighthouse Network."

So I didn't have high hopes for tech support. But someone answered! Within a couple of minutes.  A human who spoke with a Midwest Accent. I explained the issue and what I'd tried to troubleshoot.  They did some tests and sent out a well trained and polite technician within 2 hours. 

My modem was bad. I have the Internet now. Yes!!  I write, I surf, I comment, I bake layers of pastry with real butter, there's a shot of Jameson and a bubble bath and a big black dog happily asleep on my bed (OK, just for tonight)

Sunday dawns - No Internet.  I call again. They checked the signal, which was fine, and asked "do you have McAfee".  This doesn't sound good.  Apparently McAfee had a problem with a recent update.  It's not allowing Internet access.  Brighthouse was just notified.  "Here's their support number to call, they'll walk you through a uninstall and reinstall."

I call,  I'm on hold.  For an hour and 30 minutes.  Music is playing that I can only describe as Japanese Porn Film Musical Score.  Plus it's the same song as well, over and over and over. I start going through the give stages of Internet use.

Denial - I know that if I click on send really fast at least 37 more times it WILL work.

Anger -  If I see that little puke with the #%@# Geek Squad shirt that sold me this. . .

Depression -  Everyone else is on line but me (have big sad-eye stare down with black lab).

Bargaining - Lord - give me back my Internet access and I'll take back that prayer about a large meteorite and a certain member of Congress.

Acceptance  -   I'm beginning to LIKE this music. 

I don't need them. I can uninstall.  OK, I can uninstall after I call EJ to ask how to do it, bribing him with the mental image of baking croissants.

We're uninstalled, internet access is restored.

But I didn't reinstall.  Not McAfee anyway.

Instead I picked another anti virus program  a friend recommended and downloaded it.  I don't care that I already paid for McAfee, never hearing that music again will be worth it.

Now for that French Pastry.