I’ve been keeping a log of my internet service, or the lack thereof, and sending a copy when I pay my monthly Comcast internet/phone bill. After several weeks of futile mis-negotiations, a technician came to the house. Suggested I allow him to install a Comcast router to replace my router. He had a router “in the truck”.
Couple of weeks later I get a letter from Comcast saying their records show that I have recently downgraded my service (false) and that I had equipment attached to my account that was no longer in use. Further, I should arrange to return the equipment within 14 days to avoid penalties.
May 3 I made a trip to the Comcast office. What’s this all about? After scrutinizing her computer screen, which I could not see, the clerk said that what the letter meant was that I needed to exchange my router and modem for new one-piece hardware. “Do you think you can do that, or shall I send out a technician?” she said, implying that any dummy could change the equipment. I said I could probably do it, but I wanted to wait until Monday.
On Monday this week, I carefully made a drawing of all the cords and where they were connected. With finger pressure I dis-connected all the cords except the cable fastened to a wall outlet. T he modem connection was about two inches long and had two hexagonal nuts – which one to turn?
I set out for the Comcast office, told the clerk I was not able to unfasten the cable cord. “You have a wrench, don’t you?” I contemplated for a few seconds the application of a wrench to the task, which gave her time to ask, “In your tool box?” She hadn’t mentioned a tool box when she suggested I could change the equipment.
She couldn’t tell me which nut to disconnect on the modem side, but I decided I could probably use pliers to unfasten the wall side. This time I actually have to get down on the floor, This time I actually have to get down on the floor, easy enough – with one replacement knee, it’s the getting up again that presents a challenge.
Second trip to Comcast office, this time with router, modem, and various dangling cords. The clerk disappeared into the supply area and returned with an eMTA (I learned when I had to sign for it). I have an ominous feeling when I see a single, poorly copied sheet of instructions. At home I manage to find the right connections for all the cords – getting up from the floor again is no easier than the first time. Turn on the computer. I cannot make the screen match what I see on the instruction sheet.
Third trip to Comcast. I want to talk to the same clerk. Foolishly, I think that she reward my honest efforts with an early (priority?) schedule for a technician’s visit. I wait endlessly while a 250-pound woman with four children under seven argues about getting reconnected again. I finally yield to the clerk’s suggestion that I allow the second clerk to handle the matter.
The second clerk is cold-eyed and unsympathetic. A plea for priority only heightens her disdain. No technician is available until Wednesday, when I have commitments. Also on Thursday. Friday 8 to 10 a.m. will be the earliest. She promises that the technician will call before arriving. I ask how the technician can call me since I have also lost my telephone service. “What is your other number?” she asks. I have no other number.
The technician arrived shortly after 9 a.m. He carried an eMTA in his hand. The first thing he said when he looked at the eMTA I had tried to install was, “They gave you the wrong one.”