Perfect Timing

Guys. It's 1:35am and I usually go to bed at 9pm (no, really, I'm lame as hell lately.)

I had another incredible night at The Bay House, where my friend/celebrity chef Andy Hunter cooked fancy shit like swordfish and I introduced my newer meant-to-be through fate friend (Lyn, from the Art Basel post) to one of my older meant-to-be through fate friends (The Renee, from lots of old posts) and it went perfectly but the real magic of the night happened with my Uber driver.

I always talk my Uber driver's ear off. It's my favorite thing about Uber -- getting a 15 minute introduction to another person's life. I want to know how long they have driven for Uber, if they like it, how they ended up in the city they are in, if they have children and how that's going, what their weirdest Uber story is and if it's ever like the HBO show Taxi Cab Confessions (in this order. Don't judge, this is my thing.)

Some of them love me, some of them seem annoyed, but people mostly like to talk about themselves and it's the perfect amount of time to get to know someone without the commitment.

One of my Uber drivers invited me to a medicinal pot farm in Jamaica, one bared his soul about how he missed his two boys and how his divorce had changed him as a human being, one told me how he longed to be a grandparent because he felt empty once his children were grown, one explained snow in vibrant detail (I've never really seen it), one was very concerned about Big Kid and I potentially being stranded in Miami and told us to text him if we needed help. I've talked about love and life and loss and how proud their mothers must be and promised that all would work out in the end. There is something profoundly human in it all; the very best kind of human. Even the ones who clearly wish I would shut up.

My friend and I filled the space with our stories and exclamations and when I dropped her off, I started my Uber interrogation.

He had a two year old and four year old, and only drove on weekends so his wife could stay home. We talked about which areas he preferred and laughed about our area's demographic (old, rich, drunk, in bed early). I asked about his full time job --

"I work at CenturyLink."

CenturyLink is what I thought would be my temporary internet provider while I straightened the Comcast thing out. It's too slow which is why I felt I needed to sell my soul. I'm keeping it now though because Comcast is literally Satan. (That's not hyperbole, I'm actually starting a new religion with that as our creation story -- not just for the tax break, either, this is something I believe in my heart.)

I told him that it was fate that I had ended up in his car that night and apologized for making him pull double duty. I poured my heart out about the Comcast situation, because it still stings, guys, even if they're wrong and I'm right.

"That's the dumbest thing ever. Don't give them your social security card, no matter what you end up doing about internet."

 I explained my current dilemma of excruciatingly slow internet.

"Yeah," he said as he pulled into my driveway, "You're kind of at the end of the line here." But he told me who to call and he told me what to say and he suggested some things that might help and promised that my current internet speed could absolutely be improved.

He offered help, which is all I've been asking for, and it wasn't even his official job right then. I just needed a human being to listen to me, and the universe sent one to pick me up.

You will end up exactly where you need to be when you need to be there. People are good. Things are completely out of control all of the time and will work out perfectly anyway.

It is wonderful and terrifying and even though these moments of serendipity are small when it comes down to things like an internet connection, they are perfect reminders that we're on the right path even if that path seems like the long (slow, buffering, stuttering, always loading) way.

Comcast Conclusion

So, the Comcast situation has not come to a conclusion -- I have.

After another full day of no answers, they finally emailed me and said they need one more document: a copy of my social security card.

I have a social security card. I could give them a copy and this could all be over.

But yesterday morning I was so tired and sad and I realized that I have now spent two weeks in various stages of fury in my fight to be right. I went from so happy in my new home to constant frustration. Also, there's a certain confused feeling when the company regularly awarded the worst in America doesn't want to continue having you as a customer and can't even articulate why.

I felt the way Jeb Bush must have felt when people liked Trump more.

No one should feel like that.

I feel a little bit of shame (and I know I shouldn't) that I live in a house that is barred from high speed internet. I don't like the last people who lived here either; I've spent a week picking up all of their trash from my new yard. But there's nothing I can do about that, it's not my fault or the house's fault and we're just trying to move forward together. However, even if I "won" the Comcast fight, the prize  (other than high speed internet) is giving these people who have treated me like absolute garbage a large amount of money every month and continuing my relationship with them.

There is no winning.

I love the internet. It is literally my job and I love my work, so it is my life. It is also 98% of my child's education and all of our entertainment.

But maybe I have to change the way I use the internet in order to maintain my integrity. I shouldn't have to, but maybe the real being "right" lies in doing the right thing. Also, we're now at a crossroads where my identity and integrity are at risk (because I can't trust them with my social security card -- they can't even keep track of the service address for two consecutive calls) which makes the decision easier.

It must suck to work at Comcast. It sucks to deal with Comcast. It sucks that I got so caught up in trying to get what I think is fair treatment that I ruined too many days of what really matters trying to fix it.

I'm going to have a nice life, slow internet and all, and that seems more possible without Comcast in it.

And that's the story of how the big guy beat the little guy, but maybe the little guy still wins anyway.

Comcast Customer Disservice

Listen closely, friends, for I have a beautiful story of love, logic, empathy, connection and kindness that will warm your hearts and tickle your souls.

No, I'm just kidding, this is a story about Comcast so there will be none of those things.

Comcast refuses to provide service to the new house I bought because the old tenants of the last owner have an overdue bill.

This was irritating but amusing in a "but that makes no sense!" kind of way; I thought it would be cleared up quickly. My new Comcast friend Russell, sweet southern boy full of charm, promised me earnestly that this was one of those glitchy things that some paperwork would clear right up.

He was really nice.

We went over what documents I had available just days after closing and he told me where to fax them. We had a laugh that I would have to fax them like it was 1992 or something, but that should clear it right up, he said.

"And Mrs. McCann? I hope this isn't too forward to say, but I wanted to give you a head's up that you might want to follow up in 48 business hours. We want your business and we're good at what we do, but sometimes things slip through the cracks."

I found his honesty refreshing and told him so. "I've been a customer for years and I know you guys are famous for being evil but I've never had a problem. I'm cool with following up, I know how it is with big companies."

It felt good, guys. My moment with Russell.

Let's all take a minute and say a prayer/burn some sage/send good vibes and healing energy/splash some essential oils in the direction of our boy Russell because I don't think this is the right career path for him and his human heart.

I go to Office Depot, wait in line, pay to fax the documents, wait 48 hours.

I call some guy, who we'll call not-Russell because he was a jerk and he says there's no news and I have to wait.

"But did they get the documents?" I asked. "This should be an easy fix, someone just needs to look."

Not-Russel didn't know. He didn't know when or how or if we would know. I should wait for a call.

"Oh. Well, when should I be concerned?"

"When did the original agent say they would call?"

"Within 48 hours, but he said they might forget."

He said oh. And that I'd have to wait for them to call.

I waited for a call and then sent a firm but polite email to the corporate office, explaining the situation and that I sent the docs. Someone called back right away and I was so impressed.

"We're waiting on the docs," she said. I told her I sent them. She put me on hold. She came back and said those docs wouldn't work, I needed to fax new ones. I explained that this was frustrating because the first guy said they would work and that I didn't want to pay and wait around to fax things, that I would send them by email. She said I couldn't, they had to be faxed.

I again tried to convince her that the current docs were fine.

She said I could have forged the HUD statement. I pointed out that they would accept a lease and I could print one of those off of the internet right now and that as a prior customer in good standing, they had no reason to think I was forging anything -- that I ended service at one place and am trying to transfer it to another because I'm moving. I reminded her that it's not my fault the last people didn't pay and that she has my old account as proof of my credit-worthiness.

She said I'd have to fax all new documents.

I made a complaint to the FCC and the state utility commissioner and my state representative and cc'd Comcast. I used big words about how they use a public right of way and a public franchise agreement to act as a monopoly and how it feels as if they have an illegal lien on my house by denying service due to the prior owner.

My state rep emailed me back and said she has a contact with their government relations team and would reach out.

The FCC emailed me for more information and urged me to follow up with the complaint.

Comcast called me back.

"We need you to send some documents," another agent started.

"I sent what you requested the first time. I don't want to fax--"

"You don't have to fax anything. Take a picture. I'll accept the HUD but need a copy."

I took pictures or found pdfs of everything they have ever asked for, including the recorded deed, and sent it again.

The agent called back the next day. "I'm filling out the form and need the property address."

I confirmed that she got the documents and the emails, since all had the property address. She did, she couldn't find the address though. I gave her the address.

She called back two hours later. "I just need one more piece of information."

"Oh good, so then we'll be done. I want the same package as last time."

"No, it has to be sent for review."

"What has to be sent for review? You have the stuff, it has my proof of ownership."

"They have to review the form."

"The form? I thought you could fix this. Okay. What info do you need now?"

"I need your phone number."

"My phone number?"

"Yes."

"...you called me for my phone number?" I let that hang for a moment before giving her the number she called.

She called back at 7:07pm on a Saturday night without leaving a message. I called back seven minutes later and she was out of the office until Tuesday.

I called the urgent open ticket line she had listed on her voicemail on Monday morning and left a message.

That agent sent me an email saying that she'd like to resolve my issue but couldn't reach me. She hadn't called though.

I called her and she told me I'd have to wait until the other agent's return on Tuesday. I said that I needed an update and she reluctantly said the block was lifted. I said that was great and we made an appointment. She said I had to pay an installation fee even though I'm transferring and have my old equipment but whatever. Cue tremendous relief and the potential to resume work and school and life as usual.

Another agent called the next day to follow up on the FCC complaint.

"I believe it's resolved, I have an appointment tomorrow, I'm so relieved."

Her records showed that appointment had been canceled. She said I needed to submit documents but she didn't know which ones. I began to hyperventilate and froth at the mouth.

THEIR RESPONSE TO MY FCC COMPLAINT WAS TO SURPRISE CANCEL MY APPOINTMENT.

I have submitted a recorded deed, a HUD statement, my ID, a utility bill, a bill from them to me at my new address, and my official USPS change of address confirmation. I have no idea what else I can provide, short of kidnapping my closing agent and dropping her off at their offices.

The new agent couldn't help. I could only speak to my original agent. I asked how she was going to respond to the FCC complaint now and she said she wasn't going to update it since it isn't resolved. I asked her to please help me, as one human being to another, to please be of assistance here. She couldn't, she would tell my agent to call me.

I left my agent four messages. I made the corporate team email person tell her to call me. I made the Twitter team people tell her to call me. I asked for another agent or someone else who could explain. I offered to send anything they wanted, to start all over again if someone could please just look and help and allow me to keep my appointment for tomorrow.

I could only speak to my original agent.

She finally called me back. She is not a fan; I don't think we'll invite her on the Ashley Quite Frankly cruise.

She told me the block was lifted but is back pending documentation. She told me she does not know why and is waiting to hear from collections. She said my file may have been messed up by my FCC complaint or by contacting the other agent (really?). She said there is no one else to ask, nothing else to do, no one else to escalate to, no one she can call. She said in a snide tone that she was the corporate office and that their job was to reach out to the other offices.

"Look. I am asking you from one human being to another, like you as an actual person and not Comcast, I need you to help me. I need you to fix this. I have to work, my kid has to do school here and you are my only option. At the very least, I need you to tell me when it is time to just give up. When do I just need to accept that Comcast doesn't want me as a customer anymore, and find an alternate way to work and homeschool? Let's just set a deadline -- like, if this isn't cleared up in 48 hours, it probably isn't happening because you don't want my business, okay? What kind of timeline do you think is reasonable for me to accept defeat and move on?"

"Ma'am," she said, exasperated, "it's not that we don't want your business."

And I laughed like a crazy person. It's not that they don't want my business; they just refuse to do business with me.

"Is there anything else you want me to ask collections when I do reach them, ma'am?"

"Yes! WHAT DO THEY WANT? What? I said I wouldn't send anything else but I'll send whatever they want. Tell them, honest to God, tell them that they can randomly stop by for dinner any night to prove that I live here -- any kind of surprise visit. I will do that. I just want to give you money and have internet and I'm so tired of fighting about it."

This has been going on for two weeks. I've sent in more than what they originally requested. I have spoken to 7 customer service agents on the phone, 3 by email, and direct messaged the @comcastcares team on Twitter so much that they're ready to block me. I've complained to the FCC, the public utility commission, my local and state government and every email address for anything Comcast-related on the internet.

And now here we are. A formerly loyal customer who had no "Comcast is evil" story to contribute to the global conversation now has a good story, and each and every experience I have with them is more absurd, frustrating and seemingly spiteful than the last-- I mean, at a point, it's hard to credit it as incompetence because there is really nothing at all complicated about my situation.

Comcast has decided to punish the piece of land my house is on because one time some people I don't know didn't pay their bill. Comcast is so mad about not getting money from my address that they would prefer to never get a dollar from this address again. They are so mad at the people they don't want to do business with ever again that they have chosen to alienate and enrage formerly happy customers in an effort not to recoup their losses. Bizarre.

If you have a Comcast issue, or ever have a Comcast issue, please file an FCC complaint ASAP. Do something, anything to make your voice heard even if it feels like it doesn't help. Many drops of water make a flood, and maybe one day they'll drown. Or we'll all get google Fiber and they'll be forced to compete...and then drown.

Thank you for listening to my internet tale of woe. Comcast doesn't care, but what I lack in internet connection I have gained in connecting with the hordes of those who have been similarly mistreated.

But, seriously, I need a decent internet connection. Call me before I lose my shit for real, Comcast.

And we won't make grown-ups cry for wanting to be our customer.

The Good Men Project

Guys, I'm never going to be officially moved in. Ever. I will be surrounded with boxes, with a turkey tablecloth thumbtacked over one of my windows, fighting with the customer service agents of various utility companies and wondering if the movers stole all of our spatulas (and if so, why) until I die amidst the chaos. 

Basically, the conditions for writing are not ideal. Don't get me started on my internet situation. 

So while I adjust and settle in to my new abnormal normal, please entertain yourselves with a piece I wrote over at The Good Men Project about raising my quirky kid and what I've learned about people and parenting through puppetry, of all things. 

Big Kid and Big Bird. 

I will be back when I'm done searching for things and yelling -- or before then, because I do a lot of that as a mom anyway.

Rewind Television

When I look back on my own childhood, it seems like a simpler time. Maybe that’s a perception shaded by the way memory softens things, or a side effect of the internet and 24 hour news, but the world felt a little smaller and safer then, even if it wasn’t. Maybe it’s the innocence of childhood that I miss.

I want to go back to believing that Bill Cosby was a fun-loving television dad and not the scandalous subject of the evening news.

I want Al Bundy to be America’s favorite idiot again.

I want to go where people know that people are all the same, I want to go where everybody knows my name.

Okay, I’ve been watching a lot of Cheers and I’m nostalgic for the '90s.

The other day my husband and I were reminiscing about the role television played in our childhoods; how each day ended with watching sitcoms as a family and the pinnacle of each week was Saturday morning cartoons. The kids complained that there was no such thing now and I pointed out that there’s no need for it. They can watch programs made for their demographic 24 hours a day, whatever shows they want without commercial interruption, often on their own devices. There is no urgency to sit down together at a certain time to catch up on a family-friendly storyline, and when we do, I’m either bored watching kid shows or cringing through questionable content—that’s not quite going over their heads anymore at this age—as I watch the shows that are considered primetime t.v.

Television isn’t revered as a family activity these days but I have fond memories from the unintentional routine of watching familiar shows together after dinner. When I was a kid we were all staring at screens too, it just happened to be mostly the same screen at the same time. Screen time created conversation and connection.

When I heard Full House was getting a sequel called Fuller House on Netflix, my initial thought was, “…seriously?” I just couldn’t imagine why, despite loving the show for years as I grew up. Are we just totally out of ideas? I wondered.

And then I realized maybe we are and felt a sense of relief. Maybe shows like the Muppets and Fuller House are making a comeback because their humor works for kids and adults in a way that feels comfortable, and the nostalgia invites us to remember our own childhood and the things we hold dear.

(Like John Stamos. He’s aged well.)

My kids are going to have plenty of fun memories involving beach days and vacations and significant events; I also want them to enjoy the simple pleasure that comes from less exciting times like watching television together as a family after dinner. But I want to do this in a way that’s appropriate for them and not boring for me and entertaining for all, and that seems to be the hard part.

Fingers crossed that Netflix reboots all of the ’90s classics and that Cheers is next.

Long live Uncle Jesse.  

Ship Wrecked

Last Saturday night I went out to celebrate the not-40th birthday of one of my best friends. (I am lucky enough to have several.) Her husband thought it was her 40th and planned a beautiful dinner at The Bay House, which is the best restaurant in our very restaurant-worthy city, in my opinion.

It was not actually her 40th, so we celebrated her 39th and used this as a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

Her husband is Andy Hunter, executive chef of The Bay House, and this is the only, and I mean the only, place I like seafood or will try anything adventurous. I even eat oysters. Anyone who has dealt with my complicated appetite is amazed to hear that I would even sit at the same table as an oyster.

I ate all of that. I shared it but only because I had to.

I like raw tuna there (called something fancier) and I think that's very grown up of me.

So he's like a magician, really, making things I don't eat into things I love to eat.

We usually go with other friends of hers and then they become my friends. Also, it's on the water and has live entertainment and her husband arranges for us to have Hemingway-inspired drinks because we're book nerds. He took us outside and sabered the top off of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot which was pretty badass -- so the whole place is magical.

We stayed until the restaurant closed down and then went to a bar at the Ritz where some famous chefs who were in town for a famous wine festival were hanging out. By then we were loud and laughing often, and probably not as funny as we thought we were (but maybe...generally, we're pretty funny, we think.)

We were lured out with promises of Waffle House (always an indicator that the night has gone wrong, and that tomorrow will be regrettable) and at some point thought tattoos were a good idea but weren't organized enough to figure that out, thankfully.

We ended up back at their house and played Cards Against Humanity until 4am and laughed so hard that I lost my voice and my abs hurt for two days.

Or that could have been from the throwing up the next day.

Because although I (really) enjoy my occasional glass(es) of wine, I am not a big drinker. I rarely even reach buzzed. We were all a good bit beyond that.

Big Kid was concerned that he could catch whatever terrible illness I had, and felt bad that I was sick again after I had just recovered from an ear infection.

"Uh, yeah, no, don't worry about it. You won't catch it. I just...maybe stayed up too late last night and had all of that food and stuff while celebrating..."

"Ah, you got wrecked. I see."

I didn't realize he had a concept of wrecked. Or even that kids these days call it "wrecked."

"Wrecked?! No! No! I did not get wrecked. I was just up playing a game really late. And maybe had, like, 2 or 3 glasses of champagne." And some cocktails and a beer but there was no need to elaborate. "This isn't fun, see? When you're a grown up, just have, like, one glass of champagne and always get enough sleep."

He smirked at me, but I was too sick to care.

I texted my friend to see if she was alright. She was not, she was certain she was at death's door and would not survive the day.

And yet within 5 minutes we were texting back and forth about the wonders of the size of the ocean, about all of the undiscovered creatures and treasures that could be down there and about how James Cameron is kind of a dick.

Being a grown-up is so much fun when you are doing it with the right people in the right places. I feel like I am pretty good at that part of this whole thing, it's really just the insurance/taxes/bills/chores part that needs improvement.