You can’t spell pissed off without I-S-P

I’m not really that pissed off, but I’m willing to exaggerate a little for the sake of a good headline!

I missed you last week due to a lack of Internet service at Casa McCullough. In addition to some other upgrades, we toyed with the idea of changing our Internet service provider from our DSL provider to our resident Cable provider. The latter company in this tale of woe is the biggest kid on the playground in its respective area and deep down, this sports arena owning, TV network acquiring monolith really doesn’t need our meager business, which might explain why its customer service was akin to doing business with the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld!

Long story short, we went from dealing with a customer service (and I use the term very loosely) rep on the phone, to getting a false sense of security by speaking face-to-face with a local office rep, to once again chatting on the phone after our appointment mysteriously disappeared from the installation schedule, to throwing our hands up and saying “darn it, it’s time for a change!” (Actually my potty mouth alter ego’s response was a bit more colorful!).

In the end, everything worked out. We said our goodbyes to our cable company…picking up our marbles and going home, leaving the big bully on the playground with one less victim to torment.

We’re renewed our vows with our DSL provider and we’re once again cruising along the information super highway. Shedding no tears, my heart is comforted by memories of a kinder gentler day when the cable company kept its appointments – when service meant something. You remember those days, don’t you? It’s when the tuner box pictured below was considered high-tech.

Source: Wikimedia Commons

It’s when MTV killed the radio star and actually ran videos. Back in those days, if you couldn’t sleep, you could tune in to ESPN and catch the Pinochle world championships live from Lake Tahoe…all of this great programming cost less than a month’s worth of Jheri curl activator!

In the end, we’ve moved on and the only scar we bear, after our tussle with the evil cable bully, is the patch of unearthed sod that surrounds the newly installed satellite dish in our back yard!


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