It took months to get a second line removed, two months to get a VDSL circuit installed, then the monsoon rain on September 8 took out our phone for a few days. Each such adventure involved hours on a phone wading through computer-managed questionnaires. I've written about it critically in It-Takes-A-CenturyLink, or Para Continuar en Español, Oprime el Nueve.
Yesterday, the phone went dead. I feared either God or the phone company was getting even with me for being critical.
Today, Monday, we called repairs, waded through the computer-managed questionnaires, repeated my name, phone number, mailing address, last four digits of my SSN, and call-back number several times: once for the computer; the rest for the nice young female voice on the other end of the wireless line, probably in Manila.
The repair man came out early this afternoon. Hey, that ain't bad. That's pretty quick. The phone company truck pulled into our driveway and we eagerly met him at the door. Turned out he'd already fixed it. He showed us a broken telephone wire. A packrat had gotten into the phone company's box down the street and chewed through wiring.
So maybe it wasn't God's or the phone company's retribution. Maybe it was that big packrat I evicted from behind the storage box in our tower. Or maybe it was all of the above.
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