Guilt in the age of cable
Aug. 30th, 2014 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dorindaA successful writing day today! Whew. Not fast, but successful in its goals. (E.g. THEN THERE MUST BE KISSING.)
I had a weird experience after work yesterday that left me strangely preoccupied.
My wifi had gone wonky, and when I called Comcast (bleh), the final tech on the phone admitted that they had pushed a firmware update that made my particular model of router conk out.
But did they take responsibility for sending me a new model router, since they broke this one? Ahahahaha. No. So I got to work early so I could sign out a little early, and after work I scurried as fast as I could onto a bus, to a train, to a footpath (and some wrong turns), to get in line at the Comcast Service Center that was scheduled to close at 6:30.
It was like a scene from the beginning of Joe Versus the Volcano (a weird, quirky, interesting little film--I recommend it, and plz to ignore the generic rom-com poster), a stereotype of horrible bureaucracy: a non air-conditioned room with a giant line of tired people winding back and forth in it; a line of plexiglas-covered staff enclosures, only two or three of which were staffed at any given time; occasionally one of the staff would clock out early (hell, it's Friday before a holiday weekend, bye suckers!) and slowly close the blinds over their plexiglas, while we all stared in desperation.
I stood in line for an hour and a half, my end-of-workday feet complaining, and tried not to feel terrible, even though given how slowly things moved and how people were spending their time at the staff windows (arguing, not understanding things, answering cell phone calls, mumbling), I felt certain I wouldn't get to the front in time. And then no router OVER A LONG HOLIDAY WEEKEND WHERE I GOTTA POST A STORY.
(I admit, I occasionally had some violent fantasies that made the line much shorter. It was not pretty.)
People in line were wound up so tight. Every time a staffer would leave their station, and/or clock out, and/or start doing something else in the back, the mass would sort of sway and rumble.
I was trying so hard not to worry--because really, what's that going to do? But it was almost impossible. The line was inching forward, and it became clear I was going to be SO CLOSE. So. Close. I predicted that I would be either first or second in line when they closed the building and kicked us all out. Having waited an hour and a half.
But then! I was at the front! And it was only 6:10! And miraculously, all the remaining staffers didn't suddenly decide to go sort envelopes or go pick up their kids from daycare! And I GOT TO A WINDOW!
*pause for fainting*
At the window, I was profoundly conscious of the giant line still stacked up behind me. I spoke as quickly and clearly as I could, shoved the equipment through the plexiglas security hole, grabbed my replacement, signed the receipt super-quick, and darted away. Outside, I shoved the router in my backpack like Bilbo stashing the Arkenstone.
But all the way home (on foot, on train), I was troubled. There was still that giant line of people, and yes, I made it and escaped, but someone was going to be the one at the front of the line at half past. And they and everyone behind them, whose only problem was that I got off work earlier and hurried faster, would have stood there for nothing and not had their trouble taken care of.
I mean, I don't want to trivialize survivor's guilt, because it is real and serious. But this honestly felt like a pale, slim shadow of a cousin to that. I felt so mean and cornered and violent (in my head) in line, wishing everyone else would drop dead, imagining staff members forced to serve me first. But when, against all my expectations, I was one of the lucky few, I felt both very glad but also guilty. And guilty to be glad. I felt bad for the people behind me, but I also wouldn't have traded places with any of them. I scuttled away from the building in an exhausted, sore-footed hurry, not wanting to be around to see what happened at the stroke of 6:30.
So, there you go. I have internet, over the backs of other people (as I suppose is also the case for many of the other things I have in my life, oy vey izh mir). Yay! And...yay?
And that concludes my SPOOKY THRILLING TALE OF ADVENTURE AND BROODING. \o/
I had a weird experience after work yesterday that left me strangely preoccupied.
My wifi had gone wonky, and when I called Comcast (bleh), the final tech on the phone admitted that they had pushed a firmware update that made my particular model of router conk out.
But did they take responsibility for sending me a new model router, since they broke this one? Ahahahaha. No. So I got to work early so I could sign out a little early, and after work I scurried as fast as I could onto a bus, to a train, to a footpath (and some wrong turns), to get in line at the Comcast Service Center that was scheduled to close at 6:30.
It was like a scene from the beginning of Joe Versus the Volcano (a weird, quirky, interesting little film--I recommend it, and plz to ignore the generic rom-com poster), a stereotype of horrible bureaucracy: a non air-conditioned room with a giant line of tired people winding back and forth in it; a line of plexiglas-covered staff enclosures, only two or three of which were staffed at any given time; occasionally one of the staff would clock out early (hell, it's Friday before a holiday weekend, bye suckers!) and slowly close the blinds over their plexiglas, while we all stared in desperation.
I stood in line for an hour and a half, my end-of-workday feet complaining, and tried not to feel terrible, even though given how slowly things moved and how people were spending their time at the staff windows (arguing, not understanding things, answering cell phone calls, mumbling), I felt certain I wouldn't get to the front in time. And then no router OVER A LONG HOLIDAY WEEKEND WHERE I GOTTA POST A STORY.
(I admit, I occasionally had some violent fantasies that made the line much shorter. It was not pretty.)
People in line were wound up so tight. Every time a staffer would leave their station, and/or clock out, and/or start doing something else in the back, the mass would sort of sway and rumble.
I was trying so hard not to worry--because really, what's that going to do? But it was almost impossible. The line was inching forward, and it became clear I was going to be SO CLOSE. So. Close. I predicted that I would be either first or second in line when they closed the building and kicked us all out. Having waited an hour and a half.
But then! I was at the front! And it was only 6:10! And miraculously, all the remaining staffers didn't suddenly decide to go sort envelopes or go pick up their kids from daycare! And I GOT TO A WINDOW!
*pause for fainting*
At the window, I was profoundly conscious of the giant line still stacked up behind me. I spoke as quickly and clearly as I could, shoved the equipment through the plexiglas security hole, grabbed my replacement, signed the receipt super-quick, and darted away. Outside, I shoved the router in my backpack like Bilbo stashing the Arkenstone.
But all the way home (on foot, on train), I was troubled. There was still that giant line of people, and yes, I made it and escaped, but someone was going to be the one at the front of the line at half past. And they and everyone behind them, whose only problem was that I got off work earlier and hurried faster, would have stood there for nothing and not had their trouble taken care of.
I mean, I don't want to trivialize survivor's guilt, because it is real and serious. But this honestly felt like a pale, slim shadow of a cousin to that. I felt so mean and cornered and violent (in my head) in line, wishing everyone else would drop dead, imagining staff members forced to serve me first. But when, against all my expectations, I was one of the lucky few, I felt both very glad but also guilty. And guilty to be glad. I felt bad for the people behind me, but I also wouldn't have traded places with any of them. I scuttled away from the building in an exhausted, sore-footed hurry, not wanting to be around to see what happened at the stroke of 6:30.
So, there you go. I have internet, over the backs of other people (as I suppose is also the case for many of the other things I have in my life, oy vey izh mir). Yay! And...yay?
And that concludes my SPOOKY THRILLING TALE OF ADVENTURE AND BROODING. \o/
no subject
Date: 2014-08-30 11:08 pm (UTC)Second: Yay for wi-fi!!!! Especially over the long weekend! \o/
Third: I'm sure there's something about simply being appreciative and thankful for your good fortune, and also thinking ahead enough to go in early so you could get in as soon as possible…but I actually love it that you feel guilty. Well, not that you feel guilty, but that you are the sort of person who would feel guilty. Even if, really, you shouldn't. (And have you blamed yourself for the invention of gunpowder recently? *g*)
As for the cable company that shall not be named…yeah.
Go you with writing!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 01:24 am (UTC)Once it's submitted, would you like to send me a draft of yours? Or, whenever it's at a point where you feel like doing so?
(And have you blamed yourself for the invention of gunpowder recently? *g*)
HEE hee hee. Okay, thinking about Doyle does put this in a different light. ♥
no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 04:13 am (UTC)I totally get the survivor guilt thing in a situation like that. I'd probably feel the same way. Those situations are just…it really is the small stuff sometimes that does us in.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 05:14 am (UTC)That's the thing about monopolies: No need for good customer service if you're the only game in town. FEH.
Btw, if they're anything like my former employer, and I think it's possible, they wouldn't have been allowed to kick anyone out. At 6:30, they would've locked the front door, then had to deal with everyone who was still inside. So, please let yourself off the hook and enjoy your long weekend. ♥
no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 07:42 pm (UTC)At 6:30, they would've locked the front door, then had to deal with everyone who was still inside.
Oh, wow--this is the nicest thought I could possibly have! I hope that happened, and I figure I'll believe it did unless I ever learn otherwise (god forbid; I never want to go there again if I can at all avoid it).
And thanks for the good wishes for the weekend! Any weekend where I can get a story finished is automatically good. \o/