Too Long - Daft Punk, Discovery
There are things that you assume, in these days of high speed on demand technology shiny whizziness, will happen quickly. In fact, so efficient is the worldwide superhighway of speed, you kind of expect stuff to happen pretty much immediately, if not before you even asked, or even thought of asking.
If, for example, I wished above all things to see naked pictures of Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or anyone else who is inclined to flash their ladybits for the paparazzi (you know who you are), I could click a few buttons on my shiny laptop and take a look. I’ve never actually tried this (I know what a vagina looks like, thanks), but I am reliably informed that they do exist, along with plenty of alternatives where someone has taken the time to superimpose Britney or Paris’s head onto someone else’s recumbent, legs-akimbo torso, which is probably quite difficult to do when you only have the use of one hand so we should acknowledge these creative endeavours.
Of course, all this On Demand makes us rather…well, demanding. We demand the right to watch TV when it convenient to us, goddammit, and no longer plan our lives at the whim of old-school, restrictive TV schedules. I have conveniently forgotten about the lazy days of dial-up connections, and get all grumpy if the little hourglass icon appears on my laptop for more than a millisecond. I hate waiting in traffic, and demand the flying car that, in 1980, was guaranteed to be our standard mode of transport 30 years later. I demand good food in restaurants (and sometimes get it), I demand excellent service in shops (and rarely get it) and above all I demand that, when moving house, I should not have to wait twenty working days for my broadband to be reconnected.
Twenty working days. TWENTY. Maybe (if I’m a VERY good girl) as few as 12, but probably more like 20. That’s four weeks and 160 working hours before somebody is able to establish that I no longer live at address A (actually I just work here, but that’s by the by), but am now at address B, and open up the little hole in the already installed phone line so I can immerse myself in all the emails about penis enlargements and Nigerian Investment Opportunities from the comfort of my own home.
And so I would like to ask a question - both to those of you who know about these things, and even those of you who are only here because you put “naked Britney pictures” into Google - in 2010, how hard can it be? (no pun intended, REALLY). No one has to come round and dig up my road or string some wires from a nearby telegraph pole, they just have to close down one account and open another. Surely this just involves flicking some switches or tapping some instructions into a keyboard? I work from home, and if I don’t have internet, I can’t work. Am I the only one that thinks this is utterly INSANE? If utilities companies did this, there would be uproar. “Please note that you will have no water or electricity for the first month after you move in, but we can provide a camping stove for a small fee”.
I’ve rung various broadband providers, as I am more than happy to ditch the epic morons I’m currently with (that’s YOU, Virgin Media), but they all tell me the same thing – this is how long it takes. I’m sorry, but NO IT ISN’T. This is how long you tell me is the standard waiting time, but it cannot possibly be HOW LONG IT TAKES. I am moving 20 miles down the road, not to the fucking MOON.
I am angrier than a sack full of hungry pitbulls. Can you tell? Grrrr.
Posted by H on March 15th, 2010 | Filed under HFactor
March 16th, 2010 at 9:09 pm
When you move house as long as you give them a month’s warning they can switch you instantly. I didn’t know this and missed the cutoff, and suffered the same hell as you.
However there is a solution - for £50-odd you can buy a “3 mifi”, which, so long as you can get a 3 mobile signal, gives you a decent enough internet speed and is not stupidly expensive on PAYG.
September 7th, 2010 at 9:10 pm
good but..