the fast laneOur
For years we toyed with the idea of switching to high-speed. Then my son voiced a desire to enroll in an online course, and I pictured him completing it as Rip Van Winkle.
So we took the plunge.
I called and spoke with an over- zealous young man, who signed us up and then some. “You’ll get 32 extra channels on your TV!” he gushed.
I don’t want 32 extra channels, I thought afterward. So I called back and a new voice greeted me. “You have no authority to change ser- vice, ma’am,” she said.
“But I just placed the order,” I argued. “Don’t you people talk to each other?”
She finally relented and made the necessary change, then advised me, “Someone will be out this after- noon.”
Thus, I spent the morning in a blur cleaning the wreck I call an of- fice.
Sure enough, a personable ser- vice guy showed up promptly at one. He bore a hole in our living room wall with a drill the size of a shotgun. Then he set up my system before I could blink.
New service means a differ- ent email address, of course. This proved a golden opportunity to drop the nickname I “stole” from my better half and adopt his pet name for me. There were plenty of “tootsies” but no “tootsie_ roll”. Until now.
Meanwhile, Kelly chose the more intelligent sounding handle of “some moron”.
I sent out a few hundred notices of the address change for my son and me, and received some interest- ing reactions.
“What about Dan?” my hus- band’s friend asked. Though my better half doesn’t “do” email, he’s nevertheless happy to get his nick- name back.
Some people celebrated the news by sending me the biggest video files on record. A friend warned that the “underscore” will confuse people. And still another asked, “What’s going on? Are you getting a divorce?”
Not unless you count the split from my dial-up provider.
Naturally, we had to work out a few bugs, and I was grateful to have a computer doctor in the house. But everything’s running smoothly now, and I’m happily speeding my way through the Internet. I just hope I don’t get a ticket.