Everything Girl

Never mind that I am a communications major. Never mind that I tried to bundle and save a year ago with one wired carrier who drilled holes in my roof and supplied me with a wireless TV system that never worked and phone lines that went dead during thunderstorms. Never mind the undiscovered leak that led to two different plastered ceilings that caved in and the repair bills that followed. I was getting tired of receiving twenty page communication bills and even more tired of spending a small fortune between my cell phones, landlines, cable, and Internet. This time, I would read the fine print.

My problem started innocently enough. In successive order, my fax/phone/answering machine died and my printer was on its last leg. Instead of four different machines, I could purchase one and do it all. I could send and receive faxes right from my computer. Then I received an announcement that my wireless phone company was changing hands and I could “bundle and save” even more.

The brochure said I could get free mobile-to-mobile, ‘My Faves’ with unlimited call usage, unlimited weekends and evenings, 450 text messages, caller ID, add a new phone for both daughters, and add a wireless home phone with free long distance for only $9.99 a month. My calculations said we would save a “bundle of money.” I could even set parental controls online. What – two teenagers – girls who are clueless on reading clocks? — of course I dove head first into this opportunity and drove to the cell phone company store, which shall remain nameless.

“May I help you?” the nice looking salesman asked. I stared at his name tag. He had the same last name as my maiden name, which few people have unless they are from Pennsylvania. This was indeed an omen.

I told him so and then showed him the brochure. “Can I keep the same phone numbers I’ve had for twelve years, including my business number?”

“No problem. You’ll just need a wireless router and phones that support voice mail.”

“I already have these.” My system looked just like the system that was displayed on the counter.

“These are specially made for the wireless home line,” he said, then handed me a Blackberry. “You’ll need to call your landline carrier and have them do a ‘dry loop’ so your phone numbers can be ‘ported.’ ”

“Okay,” He was even kind enough to dial the landline company. What a pretty phone I thought.

“We can do a dry loop,” the landline company said, “though we need to change your ISP.”

“ISP? I have AOL.”

“They supply your email. Because of the dry loop you will need a different DSL carrier. Would you like 1, 1.5, 2, or 3 MB’s of service?”

“MB?” The acronyms were giving me a headache.

A half hour later, I was out of one phone relationship and into another. Consider this, sort of like being out of the frying pan and into the fire. I reluctantly handed the Blackberry back to my namesake. Hmm. I would need a new phone. Daughter number two would get my old cell phone which was typically in her hands anyway.

“There’s a rebate,” he smiled. My headache vanished. The deal was clinched. I declined the new wireless land phones, I was certain my old ones would work.

“You’ll be assigned temporary phone numbers until your landlines have been ported,” he said as someone else installed something called SIMS cards in the router and Blackberry. He assured me the old numbers would be up and running soon and I could set up parental controls once I switched out wireless routers. “Just pop in the installation CD and it will walk you through everything you need to do.”

I live in a sprawling two story brick building. Two years ago, we converted three apartments upstairs into our home. I love the convenience of falling out of bed in the morning and going downstairs to my work, which is why I have a laptop as well as a PC. I had plenty of phone outlets throughout the building. Some were placed there in the 1940s when the building was erected. Having inside wire maintenance was well worth while, but now it would no longer be needed and I would Sve even more money..

By evening the new system was up and running on my main PC downstairs. I got online and Googled my new phone company, set up my account and sure enough all phone numbers, including the ported numbers were listed. The old phones were not, working that is. Voice mail was not installed on them. I went back to the store the next day. My newly discovered relative had the needed equipment sitting on the counter. “Will this be all, he smiled?

Several days later I made my way through the maze of setting up parental controls but found that daughter number two had already used up share of allocated minutes, text messaging, and downloads. I cut her off. “You can still use our new wireless home phones,” I told her in my naivety, “the minutes are unlimited, you can still speed dial, and there is voice mail. It’s included in the plan.”

One week later, my Internet connection went dead. The words UNABLE TO DISPLAY WEB PAGES glared back at me. Then, the phones stopped ringing, again, including my business phone. I didn’t think it strange with the home phone because the receivers were probably buried somewhere beneath dirty laundry in my daughters’ rooms. When calls came in on my business phone for daughter number two the next day and throughout the night, I became a tad irritated.

Back at the cell phone store. “Not to worry, the SIMS cards are most likely switched. All you need to do is take them out and place them in the other phone,” said my favorite sales person.

“How?”

He showed me and it looked simple enough. I went home and tried only to discover that I was not as techie as I thought. I stood outside in the cold and rain the next morning, phone and router in hand waiting patiently for the store to open.

When the phones started ringing again, people with foreign voices were calling and asking for someone whose name I didn’t recognize. “Wrong number, I told them.”

Two weeks later, friends began showing up on my doorstep. “Bev, are you all right?”

“Yes, why?”

“I tried to call you but I kept getting a disconnected phone number.”

“Hmm.”

Blackberry in hand, I called my home number first. “We’re sorry but the number you have dialed has been disconnected. If you think you’ve dialed the number by mistake, please try again.”
I did. I picked up home phone which still had a dial tone and called my business line.

“We’re sorry but the number you have dialed has been disconnected. If you think you’ve dialed the number by mistake, please try again.”

I drove back to the store, which had become my home away from home over the past few weeks. Everyone disappeared into the back room when I entered.

“Umm, my phone numbers are disconnected.”

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience, your numbers haven’t been ported yet.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We’re checking into this now.”

I still had Broadband service, or so I thought. My AOL screen now said the weather was beautiful in Arkansas, where before the screen told me how the weather was cold and dreary in North Carolina. The AOL screen turned blank with a warning that I had no Domain Service – what ever that meant and stopped letting me surf.

I called landline tech support and was told me my modem and router were old. “The modem is the same one you replaced the old one with a year ago. My wireless router is brand new.”

“Try reinstalling AOL and Internet Explorer,” the techie chirped.

Explorer worked fine but AOL looked strange. The welcome screen said AOL UK. I am not in the United Kingdom, I am in the United States. My email account was still there and I began sending emails. Just as quickly, my spam folder began filling up with the dreaded Mailer Daemon – address unknown.

A few days later, I tried to use my credit card machine, which had been working fine. The screen said unable to get a dial tone. I called my bank on my wireless phone.

“Your machine is analog and won’t work with wireless Internet, you would need to purchase a wireless machine,” I was told.

“How much?” I asked. “Oh.” I had used up my retirement funds to by the building.

Four weeks of phone and Internet limbo had broken me, my hair had turned gray and my finger nails bitten to the quick. I called my old phone company. “I want my landline back. I want my American Internet back. FIX IT! FIX IT NOW!”

I was now into the second week of December. My wired phone line was back and the green lights on my newly re-installed old modem and router next to my wired re-cabled computer were beacons. Bright, solid, and bold. I was connected to the Internet. No problems!

“Mom, I can’t get on the Internet,” said daughter number one from her wireless computer.

“Neither can I,” daughter number two from her wireless computer.

I called the wired phone company tech support back. They were patient and walked me through diagnostics. “You probably have a virus, you may need to re-install windows. You should call your computer manufacturer.”

I did. A digital voice answered, “We’re sorry, but we are in chapter seven. The phone number you are calling will be disconnected on December 10, 2008.” I glanced at my calendar, perfect timing - click, the line went dead.

I had no other recourse, backed up and saved my files on two different external drives, then crashed my computer and hard drive. Zap, history erased, tabula rosa - a clean slate. I reinstalled my programs, and lastly, my router and the external modem. The lights did exactly as they were suppose to. At last, my Internet connection was back.

“We’re sorry, UNABLE TO DISPLAY WEB PAGE glared from my computer screen.

Hell has no fury like a WOMAN without communication tools.

I called back the landline phone company tech support. “EeeeeeEEEEEEKKKKkkkkkk.”

“Do you have a small sharp pointed object? A wire paper clip will do nicely.” She had a kind voice and I trusted her immediately. My desk drawer is a repository for paper clips.

“Plain, or coated?” I asked.

“Wire preferably.” She crooned.

“Got it,” I said. “Now what?”

“Unbend it and place the tip in the little hole on the underside of the modem then wait seven seconds.”

I did as instructed, but held the wires paper clip in at least ten seconds for extra measure. The Internet was back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you today?” The kind voice had heard my shouts of joy.

When both girls got home later (much later that afternoon) I asked them to turn on their computers to test our now restored wireless network. I would do the same with my laptop, again, even though it previously worked.

“I’m on,” both girls said simultaneously.

“Me too.” I answered. “Now, lets go surfing.” We had all been deprived of Internet access during the past month and we were hot and ready.

Hmm, two emails from both wire and wireless phone companies. “Your phone bill is ready to view on-line,” each said.

I read first one, then the other. “EeeeeeEEEEEEKKKKkkkkkk.”

My screen became distorted as girls younger girls voices resounded with mine, — “We’re sorry, UNABLE TO DISPLAY WEB PAGE” then blinked, hiccoughed, and died.

Bev Hamel is a recovered corporate executive and now owns and operates an antique shop in the tiny Historic and National Landmark town of Bethania, North Carolina. She lives above the shop with her husband, two girls, three cats, a Scottish Terrier, and Yorkie Puppy in training. The shop is actually a front for her writing and teaching endeavors. She is a freelance writer and has published short stories, creative nonfiction, essays, poetry, local newspaper articles and was editor for an area women’s magazine. Bev has just completed her MFA at Goddard College and her first fiction novel Daughter of the Seven Fires and is busily working on 2nd, 3rd, and 4th.

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