I‘m stuck on my computer, staring at a blank screen. I click through the 37 other open tabs, but nothing loads. I head over to my wife’s computer.
“Experiencing internet issues?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies. She’s not nearly as flustered as I am.
I spot the WiFi router pulsing ominously with its blue light. I unplug it, hoping a reset will help. After a moment, the familiar blue glow returns.
“Not good,” I mutter.
It’s not good because my internet provider is notorious for horrible customer service. If this turns out to be their fault, I’m in for a frustrating time.
I have things to do—being offline isn’t an option today. My wife appears with a shopping bag.
“Where are you headed?” I ask.
“Out,” she responds.
“So you’re leaving me to deal with this?”
“Yes,” she confirms.
Great. I pull out my phone to navigate their poorly rated troubleshooting guide. First step: check if I’ve paid the bill.
“Typical,” I say, sighing.
The troubleshooting process checks for outages in my area. It prompts me to identify my router by its flashing colors. I select blue, but glance up only to see red flashing.
In the end, the message says there’s an unresolved issue, and I can book an appointment for an engineer—a slot available for the next morning. Twenty minutes without internet doesn’t seem serious enough to qualify for immediate help.
While I wait for the scheduled engineer, the internet suddenly decides to work, like a rash before a doctor’s appointment.
Looking back at my router, it shines a steady white light.
“Seriously?” I exclaim.
My wife comes home an hour later, still baffled by the router.
“There was a guy near the junction box,” she explains.
“Where? What kind of guy?”
“A human guy,” she says.
“I mean, is he an engineer or a random person?”
“He said he didn’t have anything to do with our issue,” she replies.
Sounds likely.
I could use my phone’s hotspot to get online, but it’s not ideal. That night, I attempt to explain my frustrating day to my wife, but she’s not interested in the technicalities.
“The WiFi comes back briefly,” I say. “Just enough to reconnect everything, but then—bam—the 5G link breaks.”
“I don’t get it,” she replies, settling down with the TV remote. The screen is just a blank blue, announcing no signal.
“Wait, are we missing Terry?” she asks.
“I think so,” I say.
“Do something!” she insists.
The next morning, I’m in the kitchen, waiting for the engineer. At 9 AM, the internet suddenly works again, miraculously restoring the signal right before my GP appointment. But at 10, I check only to find there are no engineer slots available.
“What?” I exclaim.
“Would you like to make a reservation?” the message asks.
“This is why you’re the most hated service provider…”
Just then, the doorbell rings. I open the door to find two engineers in uniform.
“This is odd,” I comment.
“Is it?” one replies.
“Come in,” I instruct.
The engineers are friendly and quickly investigate outside. One points out where the cable insulation was worn down by a door.
“So, it’s my fault?” I ask, feeling slightly embarrassed. He just smiles.
“We can handle this without any trouble,” he assures me. They fix the issue in about half an hour, and one even gives me his mobile number in case of future problems.
“That was impressive,” I tell my wife later. “They even wore foot coverings to protect the floor!”
“Restores your faith in humanity, huh?” she replies.
I can’t help but think: finally, some stability.
