So the big news is that I have, for the past week, been in communication with representatives from Suddenlink, including the much sought-after local office, regarding our unfortunate ongoing situation with them. And the reason for the communication is due entirely to name-checking Suddenlink on this blog on July 29 (you know, beyond my thinly veiled "Link of Sudden" phrasing I've been using for months).
Shortly after I posted the Suddenlink name-drop, I received a comment to that post from a someone called Suddenlink Help who wrote: "Hi - My name is Tina and I am a `Suddenlink agents paying attention on the lookout' for customers in need of assistance. Please feel free to reach out to me directly for assistance."
And this was exactly what I was hoping would happen.
I looked Tina up on the Suddenlink website and found that she did indeed appear to exist and worked for their help desk. So on August 7, 2012, I sent her an email containing my former account number with Suddenlink and the short short version of the unfortunate ongoing situation minus all the Once Upon a Time language. And, for a short short version, it was still fairly long. But then, the unfortunate ongoing situation is now in its sixth month, so I think a couple of politely-worded pages can be tolerated. I doubt that it's even necessary to post the short-short note here, but the truly short short short version is that I spelled out the major beats of the unfortunate ongoing situation, noting the 18 times I tried to go through proper channels to no result BEFORE I name-dropped them on this blog in anything other than a thinly-veiled way. As I explained in the note, the reason I'd not name-dropped Suddenlink sooner is that I'd been hoping for a positive resolution with my efforts to communicate with them locally. But since one did not appear to be forthcoming, after 5 months, I decided to say their name and draw the attention of someone higher up. Beyond that, I noted my willingness to work with them on a solution if only someone would call me back or otherwise contact me to answer the questions I've had for lo these last six months, even if that answer is "No."
The very next day, August 8, 2012, I received an email from a Director of Operations at Suddenlink following up on the email I had sent to Tina. He apologized that the unfortunate ongoing situation has been as ongoing as it has and asked my patience as they evaluate things on their end and correct the errors of the past so that this sort of thing doesn't happen to anyone else. He even gave me his cell number and apologized again. He said he was turning things over to the tech operations manager of the local Suddenlink office who would be in contact with me shortly.
That very afternoon, I received a telephone call (AN ACTUAL CALL ON MY ACTUAL TELEPHONE!!!! GLORY BE!!!) from said tech operations manager of said local office. He too apologized and said that engineers had been sent out that very day to evaluate the situation, take pictures and gather maps so that they could figure out what could be done, if anything. He promised he would give me a call with an update the following day. And the following day, as promised, he did.
And it is at this point in the narrative that I shall suffice to say that communications with Suddenlink regarding the issue are ongoing, but ongoing in a positive manner. This is not to say that any promises have been made that I'll be receiving service, and I was not expecting any such promises. However, steps are actively being taken to see what can be done to get service to me.
For the moment, I'm pretty pleased with how things are going.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
Once Upon a Time (Part 11)
As he said in Part 7, the scribe had allowed two months to pass since he last talked to a representative from the Link of Sudden. The last time he had, the rep had been very sympathetic to his cause and had said she was going to load up his account with note after note explaining the unfortunate ongoing situation to her superiors and they would definitely be calling him very soon about answering his questions. Yep. Very soon.
Which, of course, had not happened AT ALL. And even after the scribe had dutifully given her his new phone number, since the one associated with the account, much like the account, no longer worked.
The last he had heard, two months previous, there was a note in his account from someone local that the cost of getting Link of Sudden service to his new castle would be $12,000. There was no explanation of what this cost covered, or if the scribe was expected to pay that or if the Link of Sudden was expected to pay that, or if there was a split. Nothing. So now, the scribe had decided that since having notes left in his account was about all he could expect in the way of communication from the local office, and since two months previous he had asked the Link of Sudden to see if they could get anyone to tell him exactly what the $12,000 figure meant, he would now just phone up the Link of Sudden once again to learn if any new notes had been left for him in answer to the previous ones.
The rep he spoke to indicated there were no new notes. He could see the $12,000 note, but no further explanation was indicated. Rather than read over the 18 plus previous notes in the account, the rep instead had the scribe give him the short short version of the unfortunate ongoing situation. During the telling, the scribe once again mentioned the 18 approximate times he'd been promised a phone call but had yet to receive one. The rep seemed suitably annoyed on the scribe's behalf. The scribe, however, could barely summon up even annoyance any more, let alone anything approaching anger. This wound, he decided, had festered for so long that the tissue had gone necrotic and he was left just feeling dead inside over the whole thing, but was still left with the ability to see the absurdity of it all. So he just told each increasingly ridiculous part of the unfortunate ongoing situation and he and the rep laughed and laughed and laughed, one of them with cold dead eyes.
After they stopped laughing, the rep said he was going to write everything out in detail and send the account up the poop shoot to his superiors. He, at long last, was going to be the rep to get things moving on this issue. The previous reps had been chumps. The new rep would not rest until he had documented things fully and he assured the scribe, someone would be in touch with him very soon.
"No, they won't," the scribe said. And he laughed and laughed some more.
"So how should I word this?" the rep asked.
The scribe decided to play along. If the rep was going to let him dictate the sort of wording he wanted in the notes, the scribe was all for providing those words. He was, after all, a scribe.
"Wants to know if the junction box in neighbor's yard can, in fact, be upgraded to accommodate a cable for customer's house," the scribe suggested. "Customer is willing to pay to have the cable buried, if upgrade can be made," he also suggested. "Is very annoyed that he's been promised phone calls on the matter on 18 separate occasions since February and has yet to receive even one," he continued in suggestion. "Is about to start negative media campaign," the scribe finished.
The rep said he didn't think he should include that last part. The scribe quietly disagreed, but allowed the matter to drop.
At the end of the call, the scribe thanked the rep for his time but assured him that he, the scribe, was under no illusions that what they had just done would have ANY effect whatsoever. He'd long ago given up thinking that anyone at the Link of Sudden was going to pay any attention to mere notes in an account or the suggestions of their phone reps. Clearly either there was a disconnect somewhere in the system in which the local office was unaware he wanted a call back, or they were actively ignoring him.
However, the scribe thought he might know a way to change that, or at least get the attention of eyes and ears higher up in the Link of Sudden food chain. And it could be accomplished, he believed, with the mere reordering of ten letters.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN NON FAIRY TALE FORM...)
Which, of course, had not happened AT ALL. And even after the scribe had dutifully given her his new phone number, since the one associated with the account, much like the account, no longer worked.
The last he had heard, two months previous, there was a note in his account from someone local that the cost of getting Link of Sudden service to his new castle would be $12,000. There was no explanation of what this cost covered, or if the scribe was expected to pay that or if the Link of Sudden was expected to pay that, or if there was a split. Nothing. So now, the scribe had decided that since having notes left in his account was about all he could expect in the way of communication from the local office, and since two months previous he had asked the Link of Sudden to see if they could get anyone to tell him exactly what the $12,000 figure meant, he would now just phone up the Link of Sudden once again to learn if any new notes had been left for him in answer to the previous ones.
The rep he spoke to indicated there were no new notes. He could see the $12,000 note, but no further explanation was indicated. Rather than read over the 18 plus previous notes in the account, the rep instead had the scribe give him the short short version of the unfortunate ongoing situation. During the telling, the scribe once again mentioned the 18 approximate times he'd been promised a phone call but had yet to receive one. The rep seemed suitably annoyed on the scribe's behalf. The scribe, however, could barely summon up even annoyance any more, let alone anything approaching anger. This wound, he decided, had festered for so long that the tissue had gone necrotic and he was left just feeling dead inside over the whole thing, but was still left with the ability to see the absurdity of it all. So he just told each increasingly ridiculous part of the unfortunate ongoing situation and he and the rep laughed and laughed and laughed, one of them with cold dead eyes.
After they stopped laughing, the rep said he was going to write everything out in detail and send the account up the poop shoot to his superiors. He, at long last, was going to be the rep to get things moving on this issue. The previous reps had been chumps. The new rep would not rest until he had documented things fully and he assured the scribe, someone would be in touch with him very soon.
"No, they won't," the scribe said. And he laughed and laughed some more.
"So how should I word this?" the rep asked.
The scribe decided to play along. If the rep was going to let him dictate the sort of wording he wanted in the notes, the scribe was all for providing those words. He was, after all, a scribe.
"Wants to know if the junction box in neighbor's yard can, in fact, be upgraded to accommodate a cable for customer's house," the scribe suggested. "Customer is willing to pay to have the cable buried, if upgrade can be made," he also suggested. "Is very annoyed that he's been promised phone calls on the matter on 18 separate occasions since February and has yet to receive even one," he continued in suggestion. "Is about to start negative media campaign," the scribe finished.
The rep said he didn't think he should include that last part. The scribe quietly disagreed, but allowed the matter to drop.
At the end of the call, the scribe thanked the rep for his time but assured him that he, the scribe, was under no illusions that what they had just done would have ANY effect whatsoever. He'd long ago given up thinking that anyone at the Link of Sudden was going to pay any attention to mere notes in an account or the suggestions of their phone reps. Clearly either there was a disconnect somewhere in the system in which the local office was unaware he wanted a call back, or they were actively ignoring him.
However, the scribe thought he might know a way to change that, or at least get the attention of eyes and ears higher up in the Link of Sudden food chain. And it could be accomplished, he believed, with the mere reordering of ten letters.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN NON FAIRY TALE FORM...)
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Once Upon a Time (Part 10)
With the last of the improvements accomplished at the old castle in Borderland, it was time to get the place sold once and for all. The castle-sales-agent there asked the scribe and his goodly wife which lawgiver they wanted to use to do the work. Despite having lived there for four years, they had no real notions who would be good to use, so they asked for recommendations.
"Harpo or Zeppo" she said.
They chose Harpo.
Nearly two weeks then passed with no word as to a closing date. Just as the scribe was starting to notice that they should have heard SOMETHING by then, the agent phoned to say that the potential buyers were getting antsy that they'd not heard anything from Harpo's office. They were going to jump ship and go with Zeppo for the closing. The goodly wife called Harpo's office to inquire as to the date and was told by his Verified Georgia Peach of an office manager that no date had been set because she'd not even started working on it. "Well don't bother, then," the goodly wife said. The scribe and his wife told their agent to go with Zeppo, who said he could put a rush on it and set a date for the following Thursday.
The Tuesday before the closing, the scribe and his goodly wife took a trip to Borderland. Their reasons were two fold. One, there were a few things to pick up from the castle there. Two, they had an appointment for their dog, Moose.
During the intervening months since they'd moved to Tri-Metro, Moose had developed some problems. At first it seemed to be a temporary lameness in one leg, causing him to not put weight on it at time. Then they noticed it was actually in all of his legs, one at a time. Fearing something awful, the goodly wife researched it and discovered that Lyme disease produced such symptoms. Only a quick scan from their local vet in Tri-Metro showed no trace of it. The local vet had no other notions and just told the Goodly Wife to keep an eye on him. When, after a week, the problem seemed to be getting worse, to the point that the poor dog had pain with any movement and spent most of his time lying down on his comfy pillow, not daring to move even for the encroachment of deer, the Goodly Wife said, "Screw this" and made an appointment for him at their old vet in Borderland. He too ordered a battery of tests, including an indepth scan for Lyme. In the meantime, he put Moose on antibiotics and anti-inflamatories. One or more of these seemed to help and soon Moose was his usual energetic, bouncy self. But the Lyme scan came back negative, so the vet referred the dog to a university veterinary hospital. They too could find no conclusive cause to the problem, but did note that Moose's lymphatic system was active and producing fluids that were building up in his joints, likely causing him pain. This could be caused, they said, by an auto immune deficiency wherein his own systems were fighting him. The pooch was given a course of prednisone that would likely last for four months. This too seemed to work and soon Moose was gaining weight, drinking like a camel and peeing like a race horse.
The vet visit in Borderland went well. But when the couple arrived at their beloved former castle they found the power was off. From the warm temperature of the fridge, it seemed it had been off for some time. They called their power company and alerted them. However, the company couldn't send anyone to check on it until after they had hit the road for Tri-Metro once again. They were told, via a call, that it was back on.
When they returned to Borderland for the closing on Thursday, they stopped back by their former castle to pick up the one last thing they had left behind, the rope for their dog run, tied between trees in the back yard, and to drop off a welcome card to the new owners. However, the power was still off. Having very little time to get to the closing, they phoned the power company on the way and were told that the house would soon be transferred to its new name.
"Yes, but the future owners do not have the power to turn OFF our power until they are actually the owners, which won't happen for another 15 minutes," the scribe said. "Besides that, the power has clearly been off for a number of days already. We'd like it to be on for the new owners when they take possession."
Oddly, when the scribe and his goodly wife arrived at the office of the lawgiver their real-estate agent had told them to go to, they found it was Harpo's office and not Zeppo's. "Didn't we fire him?" they said. Evidently the firing had not taken. However, the future owners of their castle had had better luck with their firing, for they were nowhere to be seen since they had successfully moved into Zeppo's care. So the closing was completed without the scribe and his goodly wife ever meeting the new owners. They each signed their papers in offices one city block apart. And with that their former castle was now well and truly no longer theirs. They each had a little cry. And, fortunately, the power company phoned back to say that they had actually restored power this time instead of just saying they had.
With the old castle's sale finally concluded, the scribe bid a fond goodbye to Borderland and he and his goodly wife drove off in the opposite direction of the sunset.
(Wait, what was that other thing he was supposed to remember? Had something to do with the move... Was a source of frustration... OH, YEAH! Now I remember...)
"Harpo or Zeppo" she said.
They chose Harpo.
Nearly two weeks then passed with no word as to a closing date. Just as the scribe was starting to notice that they should have heard SOMETHING by then, the agent phoned to say that the potential buyers were getting antsy that they'd not heard anything from Harpo's office. They were going to jump ship and go with Zeppo for the closing. The goodly wife called Harpo's office to inquire as to the date and was told by his Verified Georgia Peach of an office manager that no date had been set because she'd not even started working on it. "Well don't bother, then," the goodly wife said. The scribe and his wife told their agent to go with Zeppo, who said he could put a rush on it and set a date for the following Thursday.
The Tuesday before the closing, the scribe and his goodly wife took a trip to Borderland. Their reasons were two fold. One, there were a few things to pick up from the castle there. Two, they had an appointment for their dog, Moose.
During the intervening months since they'd moved to Tri-Metro, Moose had developed some problems. At first it seemed to be a temporary lameness in one leg, causing him to not put weight on it at time. Then they noticed it was actually in all of his legs, one at a time. Fearing something awful, the goodly wife researched it and discovered that Lyme disease produced such symptoms. Only a quick scan from their local vet in Tri-Metro showed no trace of it. The local vet had no other notions and just told the Goodly Wife to keep an eye on him. When, after a week, the problem seemed to be getting worse, to the point that the poor dog had pain with any movement and spent most of his time lying down on his comfy pillow, not daring to move even for the encroachment of deer, the Goodly Wife said, "Screw this" and made an appointment for him at their old vet in Borderland. He too ordered a battery of tests, including an indepth scan for Lyme. In the meantime, he put Moose on antibiotics and anti-inflamatories. One or more of these seemed to help and soon Moose was his usual energetic, bouncy self. But the Lyme scan came back negative, so the vet referred the dog to a university veterinary hospital. They too could find no conclusive cause to the problem, but did note that Moose's lymphatic system was active and producing fluids that were building up in his joints, likely causing him pain. This could be caused, they said, by an auto immune deficiency wherein his own systems were fighting him. The pooch was given a course of prednisone that would likely last for four months. This too seemed to work and soon Moose was gaining weight, drinking like a camel and peeing like a race horse.
The vet visit in Borderland went well. But when the couple arrived at their beloved former castle they found the power was off. From the warm temperature of the fridge, it seemed it had been off for some time. They called their power company and alerted them. However, the company couldn't send anyone to check on it until after they had hit the road for Tri-Metro once again. They were told, via a call, that it was back on.
When they returned to Borderland for the closing on Thursday, they stopped back by their former castle to pick up the one last thing they had left behind, the rope for their dog run, tied between trees in the back yard, and to drop off a welcome card to the new owners. However, the power was still off. Having very little time to get to the closing, they phoned the power company on the way and were told that the house would soon be transferred to its new name.
"Yes, but the future owners do not have the power to turn OFF our power until they are actually the owners, which won't happen for another 15 minutes," the scribe said. "Besides that, the power has clearly been off for a number of days already. We'd like it to be on for the new owners when they take possession."
Oddly, when the scribe and his goodly wife arrived at the office of the lawgiver their real-estate agent had told them to go to, they found it was Harpo's office and not Zeppo's. "Didn't we fire him?" they said. Evidently the firing had not taken. However, the future owners of their castle had had better luck with their firing, for they were nowhere to be seen since they had successfully moved into Zeppo's care. So the closing was completed without the scribe and his goodly wife ever meeting the new owners. They each signed their papers in offices one city block apart. And with that their former castle was now well and truly no longer theirs. They each had a little cry. And, fortunately, the power company phoned back to say that they had actually restored power this time instead of just saying they had.
With the old castle's sale finally concluded, the scribe bid a fond goodbye to Borderland and he and his goodly wife drove off in the opposite direction of the sunset.
(Wait, what was that other thing he was supposed to remember? Had something to do with the move... Was a source of frustration... OH, YEAH! Now I remember...)
Once Upon a Time (Part 9)
The scribe and his goodly wife raided all the gasoline powered equipment they owned, siphoning them as dry as they could with a little hand pump. This, however, amounted to what
little was left in the two mowers and the nearly full tank of the garden tiller. Maybe two gallons, if that. This they poured into her car and hoped for the best.
The wife said that word on the street was that Asscrackton wouldn’t see power again before Sunday and it would probably be the same for Tri-Metro. They would have to find gasoline, somehow, somewhere. The only good thing about the storms was that it had cooled everything off, so they slept pretty soundly with a breeze blowing across us through the windows.
The next morning, the wife called in to work to make sure she needed to come in. No sense driving to Asscrackton if they weren’t going to be open, after all. She was told that they would be open and that one of the main gas stations on the interstate had generator power and was open. Her plan was to drive there and get gas before work. She would also fill up our gas cans.
Meanwhile, the scribe’s job became keeping the house as cool as possible for as long as possible, because temperatures were supposed to hit the upper 90s again. So he kept the windows open until the battery-powered thermometer began to creep into the mid 80s. Then he started closing windows and shuttering blinds.
Mid morning, the goodly wife called to say she had been unable to get gas because the line for fuel was out to the interstate itself. However, her old clinic in Borderland reported that they had plenty of power there, so she suggested he drive there and fuel up. He really didn’t want to drive an hour and a half to gas up the car, but figured he could make it on less than a quarter of a tank if he didn’t use air-conditioning or any other electronics that drew power. And he did make it, and was even able to gas up at my favorite station 17 miles outside of town, across the border, where the gas is always the cheapest. However, they didn’t have gas cans, so he drove on into Borderland proper where he found things were well and truly FUBAR. Every gas station near the interstate was completely full and there was a line of cars adding to the chaos with each passing traffic light cycle.
The nearby Lowes only had 1 gallon gas cans left, so the scribe wound up driving further into town where he found an Advance Auto Parts that had a 5 gallon can left. On his way there, he had driven past Kroger and saw that their gas station hardly had anyone at it. The chaos, he reasoned, had not made it this far into town. But with credit card machines down at Advance, due to the storm, it was a cash only transaction, and by the time he’d made it to an ATM and back Kroger was eat up with cars. He had to wait in line for 15 minutes while the two deep line of people at the pump filled up their vehicles and multiple gas cans each.
The scribe took his newly filled gas can and drove to Asscrackton where he gassed up the wife’s vehicle and chatted with her for a bit in the darkened clinic.
“Do I need to cancel my trip?” he asked. After all, they were in a state of emergency officially.
“No,” she told him.
He returned to Tri-Metro, where there appeared to be one gas station that had some degree of generator power, but none for the town.
Though they waited to cancel the show until close to call time, the final performance for the scribe’s play was indeed cancelled. They would have no wrap party. They would take no cast pictures.
That night, after the scribe’s wife had returned home and they had opened all the windows and doors to catch what little breeze there was, he asked her again if he should cancel his trip.
“Please,” she said. “I grew up with no electricity until I was in high school. This will be fun.” This was, of course, a reference to her formative years growing up in a series of cabins in rural Alaska, where she did indeed have no electricity until her high school years. Her point was that while the scribe could be of some help to her there, his would be another car that needed gas. Plus, he was kind of a wuss when it came to lack of air conditioning. She, however, had grown up with less than this. She had a house, she had water and so she could survive just fine. If things got bad, she would pack up the animals and the deep freeze and drive them back to Borderland where we still had a house and still had power.
The scribe awoke at 3 in the morning and drove to the nearest airport to fly to Mississippi. He noticed power in Asscrackton as he drove through it, which seemed a good sign. The wife, however, would not see power in Tri-Metro for several days yet.
A day later, fearing the loss of their deep freeze full of Alaskan salmon, the goodly wife used a set of shelf-boards as ramps and then used a wheeled dolly to roll the smallish deep freeze into the laundry hall of the castle and then from there up into the back of her Honda Element. She then packed up the dogs and drove to Borderland, plugging it into the garage. Two hours later, another set of massive storms rolled across the state and knocked out power in Borderland. Seeing that there was nothing else to do, the following morning she had Lowes locate the nearest town that still had generators for sale and she drove there to buy the next to last one. With this she returned to Tri-Metro, powering the deep freeze for a few hours each day as well as charging her phone and laptop. And because of their continued lack of power and the lack of Link of Sudden High Speed Internet even IF they’d had power, her 3G hotspot capabilities in her phone kept her connected to the net of the whole wide world.
Meanwhile, the towns of the Tri-Metro area slowly crawled back to life. Stores reopened, people returned to their jobs, and life mostly resumed, albeit on a cash-only basis.
Power was also eventually restored to Borderland, which the wife learned from her former coworkers there. She made arrangements for the last of the castle-improvements to be completed so that the castle there could at last be sold.
Finally, nearly a week later, the power was restored to our castle in Tri-Metro. And an air-conditioned sigh of relief was breathed.
little was left in the two mowers and the nearly full tank of the garden tiller. Maybe two gallons, if that. This they poured into her car and hoped for the best.
The wife said that word on the street was that Asscrackton wouldn’t see power again before Sunday and it would probably be the same for Tri-Metro. They would have to find gasoline, somehow, somewhere. The only good thing about the storms was that it had cooled everything off, so they slept pretty soundly with a breeze blowing across us through the windows.
The next morning, the wife called in to work to make sure she needed to come in. No sense driving to Asscrackton if they weren’t going to be open, after all. She was told that they would be open and that one of the main gas stations on the interstate had generator power and was open. Her plan was to drive there and get gas before work. She would also fill up our gas cans.
Meanwhile, the scribe’s job became keeping the house as cool as possible for as long as possible, because temperatures were supposed to hit the upper 90s again. So he kept the windows open until the battery-powered thermometer began to creep into the mid 80s. Then he started closing windows and shuttering blinds.
Mid morning, the goodly wife called to say she had been unable to get gas because the line for fuel was out to the interstate itself. However, her old clinic in Borderland reported that they had plenty of power there, so she suggested he drive there and fuel up. He really didn’t want to drive an hour and a half to gas up the car, but figured he could make it on less than a quarter of a tank if he didn’t use air-conditioning or any other electronics that drew power. And he did make it, and was even able to gas up at my favorite station 17 miles outside of town, across the border, where the gas is always the cheapest. However, they didn’t have gas cans, so he drove on into Borderland proper where he found things were well and truly FUBAR. Every gas station near the interstate was completely full and there was a line of cars adding to the chaos with each passing traffic light cycle.
The nearby Lowes only had 1 gallon gas cans left, so the scribe wound up driving further into town where he found an Advance Auto Parts that had a 5 gallon can left. On his way there, he had driven past Kroger and saw that their gas station hardly had anyone at it. The chaos, he reasoned, had not made it this far into town. But with credit card machines down at Advance, due to the storm, it was a cash only transaction, and by the time he’d made it to an ATM and back Kroger was eat up with cars. He had to wait in line for 15 minutes while the two deep line of people at the pump filled up their vehicles and multiple gas cans each.
The scribe took his newly filled gas can and drove to Asscrackton where he gassed up the wife’s vehicle and chatted with her for a bit in the darkened clinic.
“Do I need to cancel my trip?” he asked. After all, they were in a state of emergency officially.
“No,” she told him.
He returned to Tri-Metro, where there appeared to be one gas station that had some degree of generator power, but none for the town.
Though they waited to cancel the show until close to call time, the final performance for the scribe’s play was indeed cancelled. They would have no wrap party. They would take no cast pictures.
That night, after the scribe’s wife had returned home and they had opened all the windows and doors to catch what little breeze there was, he asked her again if he should cancel his trip.
“Please,” she said. “I grew up with no electricity until I was in high school. This will be fun.” This was, of course, a reference to her formative years growing up in a series of cabins in rural Alaska, where she did indeed have no electricity until her high school years. Her point was that while the scribe could be of some help to her there, his would be another car that needed gas. Plus, he was kind of a wuss when it came to lack of air conditioning. She, however, had grown up with less than this. She had a house, she had water and so she could survive just fine. If things got bad, she would pack up the animals and the deep freeze and drive them back to Borderland where we still had a house and still had power.
The scribe awoke at 3 in the morning and drove to the nearest airport to fly to Mississippi. He noticed power in Asscrackton as he drove through it, which seemed a good sign. The wife, however, would not see power in Tri-Metro for several days yet.
A day later, fearing the loss of their deep freeze full of Alaskan salmon, the goodly wife used a set of shelf-boards as ramps and then used a wheeled dolly to roll the smallish deep freeze into the laundry hall of the castle and then from there up into the back of her Honda Element. She then packed up the dogs and drove to Borderland, plugging it into the garage. Two hours later, another set of massive storms rolled across the state and knocked out power in Borderland. Seeing that there was nothing else to do, the following morning she had Lowes locate the nearest town that still had generators for sale and she drove there to buy the next to last one. With this she returned to Tri-Metro, powering the deep freeze for a few hours each day as well as charging her phone and laptop. And because of their continued lack of power and the lack of Link of Sudden High Speed Internet even IF they’d had power, her 3G hotspot capabilities in her phone kept her connected to the net of the whole wide world.
Meanwhile, the towns of the Tri-Metro area slowly crawled back to life. Stores reopened, people returned to their jobs, and life mostly resumed, albeit on a cash-only basis.
Power was also eventually restored to Borderland, which the wife learned from her former coworkers there. She made arrangements for the last of the castle-improvements to be completed so that the castle there could at last be sold.
Finally, nearly a week later, the power was restored to our castle in Tri-Metro. And an air-conditioned sigh of relief was breathed.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Once Upon a Time (Part 8)
Though it was only on the national news for about five minutes, West Virginia and much of Appalachia went through a difficult patch thanks to a series of violent thunderstorms that pretty much took out the power grid of much of the region one month ago.
The first wave of storms came through on the evening of June 29. The day had been blazing hot, not to mention humid. The scribe's goodly wife at work an hour away in Asscrackton, while the scribe was headed out for an evening at the theatre. (Truth be told, the scribe, being also an actor, was in a play at the local theatre and was scheduled for his penultimate performance that evening.)
Before leaving, the scribe noted a warning on his phone-of-smartness that a severe thunderstorm warning was in effect for the area that night. He left his dogs in his castle and departed. Fifteen minutes into the theatrical production, the power flickered a bit went out briefly. Five minutes later, it went out entirely (ironically, at the exact moment a character on stage said his previously scripted line of "Damn, my light!") bathing the place in emergency back up lighting.
It was decided to wait a while to see if the power would come back, but after fifteen more minutes the performance was cancelled and everyone told to go home.
As the scribe exited the theatre, he could see a tremendous black cloud in the western sky, in the direction of his castle. It was not yet raining. There wasn’t even really any wind. He drove on along the down town streets and onto the highway leading to his neighborhood with still no real weather problems. As he crested the top of that hill and got a good look at the valley beyond, he could see the storm that black cloud was producing and realized he might very well be in trouble.
A wall of wind and rain hit his vehicel. Through the windshield wipers, he could see shit flying through the air. And not little shit, like leaves, but bigger shit, like branches. The smaller trees near the road were flapping wildly to the point that he began to wonder if he was in a tornado. There were no funnel clouds that he could see, but the winds were definitely much stronger than those of your average thunderstorm.
As he reached the main road running to his neighborhood, he saw there were trees down. Most of them were smaller, but there was one larger, older trees that had been split by the wind, leaving one half standing and one half fallen. This was some serious weather!
In his neighborhood, there were more fallen limbs and even trees--mostly smaller trees, but some were dangerously close to the road or to their castles. There were leaves and small branches everywhere, creating a thin carpet in yards and along the street. The lawn furniture and trash cans of some of his neighbors had left their lawns to visit the lawns of other neighbors or, indeed, the road itself.
When he reached the side street that led directly up the hill to his castle, the road was blocked by a fallen tree at the foot of his nearest neighbor’s driveway. It was not a large tree, and he was able to drive around it through his other neighbor's yard, but it was blocking the road.
Once at his castle, the scribe could see that the kayak's he and his goodly wife had left in their yard following a kayaking trip a couple of days before were still present and accounted for. But they might not be for long if he couldn’t get them inside. He parked, not bothering to try his garage door opener, knowing it would not work without power. He ran to the side door of the castle and unlocked it and was immediately greeted by worried dogs. He dashed past them and down the laundry hall into the garage, pulling the door behind so they couldn’t follow. He yanked on the garage door release rope and then lifted the door manually before running back to the car. He pulled it into the garage and pulled the door closed.
Next he descended the Joker-striped wallpaper spiral staircase into the dim basement where he stumbled back along the length of the house toward the light of the basement's exterior doors. These he flung wide before running out into the yard, dragging the kayaks one by one back into the basement. During this, he kept listening for the tell tale freight train sound of a tornado, but heard only the rush of storm wind.
After locking up the basement, he returned upstairs and then through the back door onto the deck, where he had to rescue deck furniture cushions and plants from where they had been blown by the wind.
The back yard was a mess. A very large limb and several smaller ones had fallen from the ancient oak at the edge of the yard. The yard itself was scattered with more limbs and leaves and some of the decorative bushes looked in danger of taking flight. The winds were still blowing and a light rain falling, but most of the worst of it seemed to be over. The scribe stood in the back door and watched the lighting play beyond the mountains to the west.
Taking further assessment of the situation, the scribe noted that they had no power and from the look of the fallen trees in the neighborhood alone, power would be a day or two from being restored to the area. (What he didn't know then was that a massive tree had fallen on a nearby power substation, severing the wires for a great deal of the area.) The good news was that he still had a cell signal, including 3G, and still had running water. But who knew how long that would last?
The scribe returned to the basement and retrieved the stored water containers they'd purchased when they had well troubles back in Borderland. These included a 5 qt dispenser, a 2 gallon Culligan rectangular jug, and a giant 6 gallon plastic water cube. He filled them up.
After this, he located their supply of candles and oil lamps, though he couldn’t find actual
lamp oil for them and only one or two had any in them.
When the wife came home, she said the roads were nuts between Asscrackton and Tri-Metro. They’d lost power at her clinic, so she was able to leave right at closing time since she couldn’t do any of her computer-charting. Her next question, though, sent chills down the scribe's spine.
“How much gas do you have in your car?”
“Oh, shit,” he said, because he knew exactly how much gas he had. "Not quite a quarter tank." The scribe mentally kicked himself, for he'd been driving around all day, making mental notes to buy gas because he knew he was going to be doing an early morning drive to the airport for his flight to Mississippi in only a day.
“Okay,” she said. “How much gas do we have in the lawn mower?” The goodly wife then explained that while she’d had enough gas to get home and probably had enough gas to get back to Asscrackton in the morning, she did not have enough gas to then get back home afterward. Power was out all over Asscrackton and had been completely out in Tri-Metro as she’d driven through it minutes before. They would have to come up with some gas somehow.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
The first wave of storms came through on the evening of June 29. The day had been blazing hot, not to mention humid. The scribe's goodly wife at work an hour away in Asscrackton, while the scribe was headed out for an evening at the theatre. (Truth be told, the scribe, being also an actor, was in a play at the local theatre and was scheduled for his penultimate performance that evening.)
Before leaving, the scribe noted a warning on his phone-of-smartness that a severe thunderstorm warning was in effect for the area that night. He left his dogs in his castle and departed. Fifteen minutes into the theatrical production, the power flickered a bit went out briefly. Five minutes later, it went out entirely (ironically, at the exact moment a character on stage said his previously scripted line of "Damn, my light!") bathing the place in emergency back up lighting.
It was decided to wait a while to see if the power would come back, but after fifteen more minutes the performance was cancelled and everyone told to go home.
As the scribe exited the theatre, he could see a tremendous black cloud in the western sky, in the direction of his castle. It was not yet raining. There wasn’t even really any wind. He drove on along the down town streets and onto the highway leading to his neighborhood with still no real weather problems. As he crested the top of that hill and got a good look at the valley beyond, he could see the storm that black cloud was producing and realized he might very well be in trouble.
A wall of wind and rain hit his vehicel. Through the windshield wipers, he could see shit flying through the air. And not little shit, like leaves, but bigger shit, like branches. The smaller trees near the road were flapping wildly to the point that he began to wonder if he was in a tornado. There were no funnel clouds that he could see, but the winds were definitely much stronger than those of your average thunderstorm.
As he reached the main road running to his neighborhood, he saw there were trees down. Most of them were smaller, but there was one larger, older trees that had been split by the wind, leaving one half standing and one half fallen. This was some serious weather!
In his neighborhood, there were more fallen limbs and even trees--mostly smaller trees, but some were dangerously close to the road or to their castles. There were leaves and small branches everywhere, creating a thin carpet in yards and along the street. The lawn furniture and trash cans of some of his neighbors had left their lawns to visit the lawns of other neighbors or, indeed, the road itself.
When he reached the side street that led directly up the hill to his castle, the road was blocked by a fallen tree at the foot of his nearest neighbor’s driveway. It was not a large tree, and he was able to drive around it through his other neighbor's yard, but it was blocking the road.
Once at his castle, the scribe could see that the kayak's he and his goodly wife had left in their yard following a kayaking trip a couple of days before were still present and accounted for. But they might not be for long if he couldn’t get them inside. He parked, not bothering to try his garage door opener, knowing it would not work without power. He ran to the side door of the castle and unlocked it and was immediately greeted by worried dogs. He dashed past them and down the laundry hall into the garage, pulling the door behind so they couldn’t follow. He yanked on the garage door release rope and then lifted the door manually before running back to the car. He pulled it into the garage and pulled the door closed.
Next he descended the Joker-striped wallpaper spiral staircase into the dim basement where he stumbled back along the length of the house toward the light of the basement's exterior doors. These he flung wide before running out into the yard, dragging the kayaks one by one back into the basement. During this, he kept listening for the tell tale freight train sound of a tornado, but heard only the rush of storm wind.
After locking up the basement, he returned upstairs and then through the back door onto the deck, where he had to rescue deck furniture cushions and plants from where they had been blown by the wind.
The back yard was a mess. A very large limb and several smaller ones had fallen from the ancient oak at the edge of the yard. The yard itself was scattered with more limbs and leaves and some of the decorative bushes looked in danger of taking flight. The winds were still blowing and a light rain falling, but most of the worst of it seemed to be over. The scribe stood in the back door and watched the lighting play beyond the mountains to the west.
Taking further assessment of the situation, the scribe noted that they had no power and from the look of the fallen trees in the neighborhood alone, power would be a day or two from being restored to the area. (What he didn't know then was that a massive tree had fallen on a nearby power substation, severing the wires for a great deal of the area.) The good news was that he still had a cell signal, including 3G, and still had running water. But who knew how long that would last?
The scribe returned to the basement and retrieved the stored water containers they'd purchased when they had well troubles back in Borderland. These included a 5 qt dispenser, a 2 gallon Culligan rectangular jug, and a giant 6 gallon plastic water cube. He filled them up.
After this, he located their supply of candles and oil lamps, though he couldn’t find actual
lamp oil for them and only one or two had any in them.
When the wife came home, she said the roads were nuts between Asscrackton and Tri-Metro. They’d lost power at her clinic, so she was able to leave right at closing time since she couldn’t do any of her computer-charting. Her next question, though, sent chills down the scribe's spine.
“How much gas do you have in your car?”
“Oh, shit,” he said, because he knew exactly how much gas he had. "Not quite a quarter tank." The scribe mentally kicked himself, for he'd been driving around all day, making mental notes to buy gas because he knew he was going to be doing an early morning drive to the airport for his flight to Mississippi in only a day.
“Okay,” she said. “How much gas do we have in the lawn mower?” The goodly wife then explained that while she’d had enough gas to get home and probably had enough gas to get back to Asscrackton in the morning, she did not have enough gas to then get back home afterward. Power was out all over Asscrackton and had been completely out in Tri-Metro as she’d driven through it minutes before. They would have to come up with some gas somehow.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
Once Upon a Time (Part 7)
Two months passed.
The scribe waited for the call from the Link of Sudden (Suddenlink Cable Systems, for any Suddenlink agents paying attention on the lookout for bad publicity about Suddenlink--which begins HERE), but no call ever came. And this despite the assertion from Amber, the last Suddenlink rep the scribe had spoken to, that she would follow up on the situation to make sure the much fabled call she promised would come actually did. There was no call. Not from Leon. Not from the supervisor from Borderland. Not from Amber herself. Not from anyone. And, of course, after 17 previous promises of a call from Suddenlink that had gone entirely unfulfilled, the scribe had not actually been expecting one to occur.
During that two months span of continued lack of calls from Suddenlink, the scribe and his goodly wife continued to enjoy their new castle even though the only internet service they could receive was via their cell phones' 3g hotspot. They also continued to attempt to sell their previous castle.
Back in February, they hired the real-estate agent who had held the listing on their previous castle when they had purchased it four years prior. She assured them that not only would it likely sell within 90 days but also that due to the improvements they had made it would sell for a nice bit of money over what they'd paid. The scribe and his wife decided to put it on the market for 186 beans, figuring that between offers and counter offers the castle would sell between 178 and 182 beans. The old castle began showing and within a month of hitting the market got its first offer for… 160 beans. This was disappointing, but it was a start. A low-ball offer was not something they feared, for they themselves had SERIOUSLY low-balled their first bean offer on the new castle and that had worked out fine. There was room to maneuver. The trouble was, the potential buyers were not only low-balling but were requiring the castle sale be contingent on the sale of their own castle, a deal that would effectively have taken the scribe’s castle off the market for the better part of prime selling season. That would be fine, but only if the offer were MUCH better.
The scribe and wife countered at 183 beans, which showed they were willing to drop the price, but kept it in the neighborhood they wanted. The potential then countered to 163 beans. Disgusted, the scribe countered that they would be willing to sell the castle for 178 beans and not one bean less. The potential buyer said they would be willing to buy the castle for 169 beans and not one bean more. The scribe then countered by offering them their choice of which of his supple ass cheeks they could smooch. The non-buyers declined further negotiation. Time passed.
In late May, word came of a new offer on the castle, this time a reasonable one. The offer came in at 170 beans-in-hand, which meant actual beans being passed and not contingent on the loaning of beans from a bean-loaning establishment. Even at the much lower figure (which was actually the same bean figure the scribe and wife had bought the place for when they purchased it) a bean-in-hand offer was a serious one to consider. It meant a lot less hassle to getting the place sold with a lot fewer chances of someone saying “no” along the way. However, the amount was still too low for the amount of work the scribe and his goodly wife had done to the place. They countered with 178 beans, expecting to have to eventually drop down to 176. But the 178 beans was accepted right out.
It took nearly a month for all of the inspections to be completed and for some reasonable requests for additional improvements to be made.
Before these could be accomplished, though, a great wind came along and nearly wiped the place out.
The scribe waited for the call from the Link of Sudden (Suddenlink Cable Systems, for any Suddenlink agents paying attention on the lookout for bad publicity about Suddenlink--which begins HERE), but no call ever came. And this despite the assertion from Amber, the last Suddenlink rep the scribe had spoken to, that she would follow up on the situation to make sure the much fabled call she promised would come actually did. There was no call. Not from Leon. Not from the supervisor from Borderland. Not from Amber herself. Not from anyone. And, of course, after 17 previous promises of a call from Suddenlink that had gone entirely unfulfilled, the scribe had not actually been expecting one to occur.
During that two months span of continued lack of calls from Suddenlink, the scribe and his goodly wife continued to enjoy their new castle even though the only internet service they could receive was via their cell phones' 3g hotspot. They also continued to attempt to sell their previous castle.
Back in February, they hired the real-estate agent who had held the listing on their previous castle when they had purchased it four years prior. She assured them that not only would it likely sell within 90 days but also that due to the improvements they had made it would sell for a nice bit of money over what they'd paid. The scribe and his wife decided to put it on the market for 186 beans, figuring that between offers and counter offers the castle would sell between 178 and 182 beans. The old castle began showing and within a month of hitting the market got its first offer for… 160 beans. This was disappointing, but it was a start. A low-ball offer was not something they feared, for they themselves had SERIOUSLY low-balled their first bean offer on the new castle and that had worked out fine. There was room to maneuver. The trouble was, the potential buyers were not only low-balling but were requiring the castle sale be contingent on the sale of their own castle, a deal that would effectively have taken the scribe’s castle off the market for the better part of prime selling season. That would be fine, but only if the offer were MUCH better.
The scribe and wife countered at 183 beans, which showed they were willing to drop the price, but kept it in the neighborhood they wanted. The potential then countered to 163 beans. Disgusted, the scribe countered that they would be willing to sell the castle for 178 beans and not one bean less. The potential buyer said they would be willing to buy the castle for 169 beans and not one bean more. The scribe then countered by offering them their choice of which of his supple ass cheeks they could smooch. The non-buyers declined further negotiation. Time passed.
In late May, word came of a new offer on the castle, this time a reasonable one. The offer came in at 170 beans-in-hand, which meant actual beans being passed and not contingent on the loaning of beans from a bean-loaning establishment. Even at the much lower figure (which was actually the same bean figure the scribe and wife had bought the place for when they purchased it) a bean-in-hand offer was a serious one to consider. It meant a lot less hassle to getting the place sold with a lot fewer chances of someone saying “no” along the way. However, the amount was still too low for the amount of work the scribe and his goodly wife had done to the place. They countered with 178 beans, expecting to have to eventually drop down to 176. But the 178 beans was accepted right out.
It took nearly a month for all of the inspections to be completed and for some reasonable requests for additional improvements to be made.
Before these could be accomplished, though, a great wind came along and nearly wiped the place out.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Once Upon a Time (Part 6)
It had been three weeks since the scribe last spoke to a supervisor from the Link of Sudden, which was, as noted, the first time anyone from the Link of Sudden had actually called him back. That guy had promised that "Leon" would be in touch with him by phone, seemingly within hours. However, over 504 hours had since passed and no call had been received from "Leon."
Meanwhile, the scribe's phone stopped working. Not his cell phone, but his house phone. He wasn't certain how long the phone had been inoperable, for they had received only two calls on it since it had been installed in March. At first the scribe thought that the phone had quit working because he had not yet paid his first bill. This was because his first bill had got lost in the piles of paper that had already begun to collect in the new castle and upon opening the second bill he discovered he somehow owed the phone company $111 for scarcely two months worth of service. How could that even be possible? He'd barely made ANY phone calls. Upon phoning the phone company and inquiring about it, he discovered that they were overcharging him for services they were supposed to provide for free. However, his adjusted bill total would not appear online until his next billing period, so the amount he needed to pay online was in determinant. So he just didn't pay it.
After the phone stopped working, the scribe went onto the web of the whole wide world and paid his bill. Days passed and the phone continued to provide only static. So he called the phone company back and let them know. They said they'd send someone out, and a couple of days later the scribe spied one of their service people digging in the local junction box for the neighborhood. The phone did not begin to work. And, after a long four day weekend away in Kentucky, the phone was still inoperable upon their return.
On Friday morning, the scribe phoned them up to alert them to this. They did not seem to want to believe him, because their records showed that the service guy had repaired the problem and received a dial tone at the junction box.
"I know," the scribe said. "I saw him down there. The phone still doesn't work."
The phone company agreed to send someone else round, though they were dubious if this would happen before Monday.
Having just faced one large bureaucratic organization that morning, the scribe phoned up the Link of Sudden. A cheerful phone rep named Amber took the call and, after hearing the SHORT SHORT version of his Link of Sudden Tale of Woe, was able to look him up and check the notes in the account.
"And then the Supervisor from BORDERLAND said that a `Leon' would be calling me within a few hours. That," the scribe said, "was three weeks ago. No one has called. And, I might add, until the supervisor from BORDERLAND called me, not one person from THE LINK OF SUDDEN has ever called me over the course of the past, ohhh, twelve weeks."
Amber said she was very sorry that this was the case. However, she could see in the account notes that Leon himself had actually made a note in the account back in April. Leon's note explained that that hooking up the scribe's castle for internet service would cost $12,000. The scribe should have been horrified at that figure, but nothing about the Link of Sudden could surprise him at this point, except, perhaps, for an actual phone call.
"This is the first I've heard anything about $12,000," the scribe said. "And that's precisely the sort of information we've been trying to get out of THE LINK OF SUDDEN for weeks."
Amber explained that she was uncertain if the $12,000 cost was their cost, the scribe's cost or something to be split up should it come to actually acting on the proposed job. The scribe again told her about his own proposed project of just getting the Link of Sudden to EFFing upgrade the plug-in box in his neighbor's yard, 70 feet down the hill, and his offer to have the trench dug to bury a cable from their, but, again, this was something he needed to discuss with Leon, who apparently was afraid to phone him. Amber made several notes in the account and said she would send communication to Leon that he was to communicate back with the scribe as soon as possible regarding the actual cost breakdown. Amber said she was on the scribe's side. She said she had his back in all this. She would follow up to make sure it happened.
And so far.... no call.
Meanwhile, the scribe's phone stopped working. Not his cell phone, but his house phone. He wasn't certain how long the phone had been inoperable, for they had received only two calls on it since it had been installed in March. At first the scribe thought that the phone had quit working because he had not yet paid his first bill. This was because his first bill had got lost in the piles of paper that had already begun to collect in the new castle and upon opening the second bill he discovered he somehow owed the phone company $111 for scarcely two months worth of service. How could that even be possible? He'd barely made ANY phone calls. Upon phoning the phone company and inquiring about it, he discovered that they were overcharging him for services they were supposed to provide for free. However, his adjusted bill total would not appear online until his next billing period, so the amount he needed to pay online was in determinant. So he just didn't pay it.
After the phone stopped working, the scribe went onto the web of the whole wide world and paid his bill. Days passed and the phone continued to provide only static. So he called the phone company back and let them know. They said they'd send someone out, and a couple of days later the scribe spied one of their service people digging in the local junction box for the neighborhood. The phone did not begin to work. And, after a long four day weekend away in Kentucky, the phone was still inoperable upon their return.
On Friday morning, the scribe phoned them up to alert them to this. They did not seem to want to believe him, because their records showed that the service guy had repaired the problem and received a dial tone at the junction box.
"I know," the scribe said. "I saw him down there. The phone still doesn't work."
The phone company agreed to send someone else round, though they were dubious if this would happen before Monday.
Having just faced one large bureaucratic organization that morning, the scribe phoned up the Link of Sudden. A cheerful phone rep named Amber took the call and, after hearing the SHORT SHORT version of his Link of Sudden Tale of Woe, was able to look him up and check the notes in the account.
"And then the Supervisor from BORDERLAND said that a `Leon' would be calling me within a few hours. That," the scribe said, "was three weeks ago. No one has called. And, I might add, until the supervisor from BORDERLAND called me, not one person from THE LINK OF SUDDEN has ever called me over the course of the past, ohhh, twelve weeks."
Amber said she was very sorry that this was the case. However, she could see in the account notes that Leon himself had actually made a note in the account back in April. Leon's note explained that that hooking up the scribe's castle for internet service would cost $12,000. The scribe should have been horrified at that figure, but nothing about the Link of Sudden could surprise him at this point, except, perhaps, for an actual phone call.
"This is the first I've heard anything about $12,000," the scribe said. "And that's precisely the sort of information we've been trying to get out of THE LINK OF SUDDEN for weeks."
Amber explained that she was uncertain if the $12,000 cost was their cost, the scribe's cost or something to be split up should it come to actually acting on the proposed job. The scribe again told her about his own proposed project of just getting the Link of Sudden to EFFing upgrade the plug-in box in his neighbor's yard, 70 feet down the hill, and his offer to have the trench dug to bury a cable from their, but, again, this was something he needed to discuss with Leon, who apparently was afraid to phone him. Amber made several notes in the account and said she would send communication to Leon that he was to communicate back with the scribe as soon as possible regarding the actual cost breakdown. Amber said she was on the scribe's side. She said she had his back in all this. She would follow up to make sure it happened.
And so far.... no call.
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