Thursday, February 12, 2009

death by comcast

11 Thoughts: Death by Comcast

Thursday, February 12, 2009

It's 2:11 p.m. on a lovely Saturday afternoon and I am dropping off a modem at the local Comcast office in San Francisco. What could possibly go wrong with this scenario? Could it be having to wait a full 45 minutes for a transaction that should take approximately three seconds? Yes, that very well could be it! Forty-five minutes of grass growing, paint drying, water dripping ... and a writer's sanity not-so-quietly disappearing:

1. 2:11 p.m.: No chairs?

Even Greyhound bus stations have chairs!

In fact, when I sigh and look up, I begin to hear the Comcast ceiling tell me the following:

"We can afford this beautiful high-tech ceiling, but you can rest assured we will never consider actually springing for chairs. Nope, not even the cheap plastic ones you're thinking about right now."

2. 2:14 p.m.: No number system?

Even Kaiser has a number system!

Give us a number, or better yet, give us one of those handheld machines that buzzes when the staff is ready to make eye contact with us (so that we might do other things like gently wander off, eat, use the bathroom or go outside to weep quietly).

3. 2:17 p.m.: Sam Kinison's screaming face

After five minutes in line, I begin to see him.
After six minutes, he is right in front of me,
screaming at the top of his lungs.

4. 2:23 p.m.: Samuel L. Jackson's booming voice

By 2:27 p.m., I am replying to it.

5. 2:30 p.m.: Jim Morrison's shrieking vocal cords

He is telling me I "cannot petition the Lord with prayer" -
and I believe him.

6. 2:34 p.m.: Politeness

I strike up a conversation with the people behind me, but they don't reply. Who can blame them? It's as if we're all stuck in an elevator together and the doors won't open and we're not allowed to make eye contact and the elevator just came to a sudden grinding halt.

7. 2:38 p.m.: Dizziness

I begin to see those strange flashes you see when you rub your eyes,
only I'm not rubbing my eyes.

8. 2:42 p.m.: The magic cane

Someone with a cane just waltzed right in and sat down at the special counter by the entranceway. By 2:43 p.m., he is done and gone.

(Wall-size note to self: Next time, bring a cane.)

9. 2:48 p.m.: Proof

I've convinced myself I need to physically be here in order to identify my modem.

10. 2:51 p.m.: A scanner darkly

That is, until I see an employee scan someone else's modem,
which automatically tells Comcast who the modem belongs to,
which automatically tells me it is unnecessary for me to be here,
which automatically tells me I will be writing this column,
which automatically tells the entire planet how unnecessary it is
for a person to be standing in this line
for no real reason at all!

11. 2:56 p.m.: 11 things easily better than this

Root canals, colonoscopies, sigmoidoscopies, surgery, taxes, turnips, meetings, changing diapers, Muni, pigeons and death.

And yes, for the record, I am still in line at Comcast.

- Tim Sullivan, tsullivan@sfchronicle.com

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/02/12/NSQ915Q80K.DTL

This article appeared on page F - 3 of the San Francisco Chronicle

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