P and I bought our first computer back in 1997. I remember it clearly because I still wasn’t sure why anyone would need a computer because the whole internet thing was obviously just a passing fad, like indoor plumbing or telephones.
Honestly, I don’t know why I feel the need to begin this post with the entire history of our computer ownership. It’s completely and totally irrelevant. Well, except it does provide a basis to show that I really have no business messing with technology.
What you need to know is that up until about a year ago, we had that exact same mammoth desktop PC. That sound you hear is Bill Gates crying. Every now and then we’d lure some high school tech wizard to our house to perform some computer maintenance in exchange for fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. It always ended the same way, with some sweet sixteen year old boy asking me when was the last time we updated our virus software and I’d say, “What? Would you like another cookie?”
And then we’d give him a bundle of cash so he could run up to the local computer store (I have no idea what it was actually called) and buy whatever we needed to make our computer quit having a spaz. (You should see the look the teenagers would give me when I would refer to the computer as having a spaz. It’s probably similar to the look you just got when you read the words. A look of disbelief and horror.)
In the meantime, I became employed by a big pharma company that gave me a laptop, although I’m using the word “gave” lightly because they took it back so quick it made my head spin once I resigned. But part of the benefit of the laptop was the company paid for us to have wireless internet in our home, which meant I could sit on the couch and use the computer and that’s pretty much the reason this blog even exists. Had I been chained to our desktop PC and the hard, wooden chair at our desk as opposed to using a company computer for personal use while on my comfy couch, I would have thrown in the blogging towel after about a week.
This is really so much more information than you need and I’m so sorry but I cannot stop.
In March 2007, I took part of my quarterly bonus from the big pharma company and bought myself a Macbook, partly because I really wanted a Mac and partly because I was growing increasingly paranoid that the tech department at the big pharma company was tracking my every internet move and might have reports linking me to frequent use at some inappropriate site about large women who are mothers. Please note that I wasn’t paranoid enough to sit at my desk and use the PC, just paranoid enough to obsess over it while using the company laptop.
From the day I brought the Mac home (almost THREE YEARS AGO) it has never connected to our wireless internet very well. If it ever went to sleep then it would totally lose the connection. I’d have to wake it back up, put it back to sleep and then wake it up again. That highly technical method would usually work, but if it didn’t I resorted to a method I like to call whining and crying in frustration.
But yet, BUT YET, I never called AT&T to complain.
Even though I knew it was their fault because my Mac was always happy to connect to the wireless whenever we weren’t at home. It’s as if it wanted to do its business anywhere but in the comfort of home. Frankly, it reminded me of trying to potty-train Caroline.
To make a long story short (Oh sure.) I quit my job and they took the work laptop. Then about a year later, our PC died a slow death. As it turns out it’s not really a good idea to just turn down the volume on an old computer that is beeping loudly to let you know that the fan isn’t working and its over-heating. Who knew?
And so now we have one computer.
I’ve been desperately trying to convince P that he needs his own laptop. He insists he doesn’t need one. I say for someone who doesn’t need one, he sure spends a lot of time on mine and how am I ever going to break my high score on Bejeweled if he’s busy looking at reloading sites?
But this really isn’t the place to air our dirty tech laundry.
The whole point of this entire thing has been to share that our internet issues with the Mac finally reached an all-time high. P began to ask me every day to please call AT&T and figure out what was up with our internet.
(Why does he care so much if he doesn’t even use the computer enough to warrant having his own? Something to think about.)
And every day I would avoid calling AT&T because there is nothing I hate worse than having to deal with any sort of customer service department for a major corporation. I’d rank it up there with shopping at Walmart on a Saturday or going to the pool without my toenails painted. I just knew I was destined to spend HOURS of my life pressing 1 if I wanted tech support or 2 if I needed to pay my bills or 3 if I was about to bleed out of my eyes.
This has been going on for THREE YEARS.
I have put off calling them for THREE YEARS.
It finally came to head last week after P wrote that whole post on gifts for the outdoorsman and the internet went out and the entire thing was lost. He told me that I shared a least part of the responsibility for the whole debacle because I’d neglected to call AT&T for THREE YEARS.
(I know you may be wondering why he didn’t call AT&T himself. The answer is that he is not in charge of anything tech related in our home. In return, I am not in charge of anything that turns up dead or anything that is alive and unwanted. It’s a system that works well when one of you isn’t a dreadful combination of forgetful and a procrastinator.)
(Case in point: I have been wearing Degree Super-Strong Deodorant for Men for three weeks now because I can’t remember to buy some Secret while I’m at the store. And every morning when I get dressed and remember I need deodorant, I decide I can wait until tomorrow.)
Anyway, he said that he couldn’t be held responsible if he got so frustrated one day that he decided to throw the entire computer out the back door even though he realizes it’s not the computer’s fault. And so I took immediate action and thought about calling AT&T and then forgot.
Until Tuesday when we reached internet crisis mode. The Mac wouldn’t connect no matter what we did. And so I resorted to drastic measures and called AT&T. I had to push about eight different numbers and tell a computer what I needed.
“HELP. I NEED HELP.”
And finally I got a real live person on the phone.
For the first few minutes she didn’t really instill a lot of confidence in me. Mainly because I had specifically stated that I needed help with a Mac instead of a PC and she kept referring to my “Sa-Fairy” internet browser. (It’s Safari for you PC users out there. Safari. Just like in Africa or the drive-through zoo in New Braunfels, TX)
And then she kept asking me to type things into my “Sa-Fairy” browser even though I kept trying to explain that I had NO INTERNET CONNECTION. I was close to telling her that they needed to send some sort of computer wizard out to my house, when she asked, “When you look at your internet connection does it show that you’re connected to 2WIRE665?”
I replied, “No. It says Netgear.”
“What’s Netgear?”
“Well, it’s the name of our router.”
“Why do you have a router?”
“I DON’T KNOW. WHY DO I HAVE A ROUTER? AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO NOT HAVE A ROUTER?”
She calmly said, “No, you don’t need a router since you have a Mac. You probably needed one with your old laptop and your desktop, but you’ve been trying to connect to the internet the wrong way.”
FOR THREE YEARS.
So I unplugged the router, connected immediately to 2WIRE665 with the password found on the bottom of my modem, and have had nary an internet problem since.
Which works out since this whole internet thing appears to have some staying power.
And also since I have a blog.
And also because P hasn’t missed a chance to let me know that I could have solved this problem with one simple phone call THREE YEARS AGO.