Calling tech support

On the road still again.  Tonight?  In a major city that might be the capital of a large North American country.  Staying in an upscale hotel, that might be somehow related to a skanky celebu-tard known to appear in night-vision pornography. 

You’d think they could get their fucking internet to work…

i called the front desk, after attempting to connect for over an hour with an intermittent wireless connection.  Front desk clerk helpfully handed me off to the tech support line for their internet provider.  In Bangalore.  A wonderfully helpful technician, who quickly realized that i was not an imbecile, suggested i call the front desk and ask for a wireless bridge to get a stronger signal.

Without screaming, i did so, and the front desk clerk helpfully offered to have a bridge sent to my room.

Smiling sweetly as the bellman delivered the bridge – 30 minutes later – i was able to get a box full of random wires and electronic gonads connected properly.  And yet was still unable to get a signal that stayed connected for more than 20 seconds at a time.

Inspired by two women of class and restraint (annie and awalkabout) at no time did i scream SUCK MY DISEASE-RIDDLED SCROTAL SACK, YOU WORTHLESS TECHNO-BAGS OF SHIT!  Although i thought about it several times.  Despite the fact that i have been awake since 3:45 am in order to catch a flight at 6:00 am to get to a meeting by 8:30 am that i don’t really need to attend, i’m trying to do a better job with my anger management than i did yesterday morning.

Instead?  i took some of my frustrations out on a wooden coat hanger in the closet.  One of those nice ones that can actually be removed from the rod… and i wrenched the metal crossbar from the wood.  And being a good little nerd-ette, i have managed to fashion a rather nifty antenna from it. 

Weak, but stable signal.

Geeks rock. 

The Hilton in Tysons Corner, Virginia?  Not so much.

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13 thoughts on “Calling tech support

  1. Class and restraint? Me? Let’s hope Rob doesn’t read this then and rat me out. It’s been a while since my last verbal outbreak – though I had it on a message board and got the crap kicked out me for it. I don’t think I have beaten an object into submission since college. I pummeled a dryer in an apartment laundry. No witnesses and a innocent expression (face of an angel really) saved me when it turned out I really had broken it and it took the landlords several days to replace it.

    No wireless at the Hilton? Is Paris running the empire now?

  2. after attempting to connect for over an hour with an intermittent wireless connection

    You tried for an hour? You have way more patience than me, daisyfae.

    BTW, I’d have said “Fuck the bridge.” and instructed hotel management that they would be moving me to a suite, please, nearer to the source of the wireless signal.

    The last thing I beat into submission was the gas heater in my garage last fall, when the fucking thing wouldn’t light. After I hurt my running shoe clad toe, I found a BFH and did some serious damage! It still doesn’t work and it was quite cold out there last winter but, boy, did I work off some aggression and anger.

    Annie: that’s a cute story. Reminds me of an old adage I learned from Operators: “If you can’t fix it, fuck it so no one can fix it.” Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. 🙂

  3. Seriously? That close to the nation’s capital where Everybody comes to stay at some point they don’t have wireless? That’s…sacrilegious!!! And at a Hilton, the damn wireless should also make coffee or something, for what you pay. Shame on them!

  4. We used to have corporate feel good sessions there and I agree 100% with you, I never get good connectivity from that place. I usually went over to the mall and sucked the wireless connection off of one fo the places there.

  5. I generally break down and use the wired connection. I’m so damned old school. My last 5 hotels had horrible wireless. Including the one in Tyson’s Corner. Nice mall, though!
    The Sheraton in in NOLA had terrible wireless, which was hosted by Google. If they knew how awful it was, I hope they had the good grace to be embarrassed.

    Daisy, are you going to BlogHer this year?

  6. annie – Appliance beating? i always thought it was more fun to flight test them from the fire escape… and yes, Paris is in charge. Run…

    rob – i was working offline, and mail would move periodically in batches as the connection came and went. i just got tired of it… bastards… hotel was full of japanese tourists, so no rooms available.

    MdW – stole that one from somewhere… wish i could remember, but it’s fitting!

    awalkabout – it was there, and i paid extra for it. it just sucked! i wondered if there was active jamming going on from somewhere… aggravating.

    ~m – suspect i wasn’t the only one using that tag yesterday!

    umdalum – hadn’t thought of going to the mall area. probably because i hate malls/shopping and was already in my boxers for the night. after the bellman came to the door…

    bc – i’ve gotten complacent. stopped bringing the wires, and some places don’t even have the rooms hardwired! i may resort to using the reviews on hotels.com to check places out before travel. but who the hell has time for that degree of research? UGH!

  7. gnu – Ha! Welcome the Gnu Kid to The Park! ’bout time! And yes, i make house calls. So long as you promise that the ghost of Joan Crawford won’t be there to beat me with the hangers, we’ll be in good shape!

  8. Fuck. I would have stalked slowly down stairs, around the back of the “front” desk, roughly cupped the concierge’s balls and said “now, are you listening, you dumb piece of shite….”

    And you have NOooooooOOOOOOO idea what it is like trying to get “tech” support in a hotel in Polokwane. In fact, you don’t even try. You go down stairs to the bar and get drunk, is what you do. Either that or beat yourself unconscious against the chipboard wall.

  9. dolceii – i might have felt better if i’d taken your approach – especially if the concierge was cute – but alas, i think it was well beyond the span of control of the hotel staff. drinking would have been a solution, had it not been for my psychotic obsession to drop at least another 10 lbs before i head to Sevilla in late June. (sigh)

  10. Pingback: You’ve got to be kidding? « Trailer Park Refugee

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