We moved Saturday. Because we were making up our minds about what to do for phone (move our landline service or switch to just having a cell phone), I neglected to call Qwest until the day before the move. They told me the phone wouldn’t be turned on in our new place until Wednesday morning, which meant no phone or internet for over three days. How would I survive?!
I figured I’d have enough unpacking to do that I’d get through all right, and I did. On Wednesday morning, though, I tested the phone line first thing. Nothing. Fifteen minutes later, nada. I tested it about every fifteen minutes until 11:30, and then I wentÂ and borrowed the landlady’s phone to call Qwest. They said a technician was still working on it and the phone would be turned on by 5:00. The landlady told me that they’d been a day and a half late turning on her phone when she moved to the area.
I was patient. I waited until 5:00, and then I tested the line. I tested it a few times before bed. Zilch. Thursday morning there also wasn’t a dialtone. I waited ever so patiently (okay, I was chomping at the bit by now because I was mostly unpacked and bored) until noon to call again. I figured I’d give Qwest a day and a half to get on the ball. Then I drove to Dave-O’s apartment and borrowed his phone. Qwest told me they’d turned the switch and I should be getting a dialtone by now. They figured there was something that needed to be repaired on my end, so they’d send out a technician. Tomorrow. By noon, or at the latest by 6:30.
There are not words to describe my frustration at this point. Not only could I not check my email or forums or blogs, but I couldn’t call my mom, which was much worse. I talk to her every day, or close to it, and I had a million things to tell her and ask her.
At about noon on Friday, the technicians came out. They messed around with the wiring, I assume, and then they asked me how long our line had been out. I told them it had never been on to begin with. “That would have been nice for them to tell us,” one of them said. They flipped on the switch that the other guy apparently decided he didn’t want to climb the telephone pole and flip on, and voila! Their little machine produced a dialtone. I checked my phone. Nothing.
They found out that they had accidently damaged one of the ancient telephone wires as they were trying to figure out what was wrong (when nothing was). They fixed it, and I went inside and got a dialtone. I was ecstatic.
I spent the next hour and a half on the phone with my dad, my mom, my granny, and my mom again. Oh, and Jon Boy in there somewhere. Lego was getting pretty fed up with me.
When Jon Boy got home from work, he tried to get the internet set up, and in the process, the line went dead. Again. I just about cried. Literally.
Qwest sent out another technician Saturday afternoon, and he found that a wire had come loose just inside our jack. He fixed it, we had phone again, and we are finally online. I had twelve emails andÂ twenty-eight blog posts in my Google Reader to read. It was actually kind of fun.
Anyway, I’m glad to be back. Let’s hope there are no more problems.