A LUDDITE JOINS THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, KICKING AND SCREAMING

Having gotten a cell-phone, finally, after more than two decades of resisting progress, it was necessary to cancel my land line. Which, because MCI was still experiencing technical difficulties, proved quite an effort. Talk to the billing department, request transfer to customer service. Customer service "cannot connect you with a representative due to technical problems, thank you, good bye." Several more attempts. Finally in mid-afternoon I got a live human being, of South Indian derivation, who was most helpful. Desperate to keep me as a customer, but finally bowing to the inevitable.


"Surely a landline would be good to have if there were an emergency?"


Well yes, but when the phone finally was able to make outgoing calls late Friday night, and there was a crime outside my frontdoor, I tried calling the police. Too much damned static on the line to be worthwhile. What I didn't mention was that if that had been the case ten months ago, when I needed a taxi to the hospital at four in the morning, I would be dead now.
That really was an emergency.

[Let's review the medications they sent me home with, five days after the operation: Metronidazole 500 Mg., four days worth. Ciprofloxacin Hcl 500 Mg., four days worth. Hydrocodone-acetamin 5-32, a three day supply.]


All in all it took four hours today to tell MCI about the rope they could go piss up. After which I needed to step outside for some fresh air.

Which I promptly turned blueish and fragrant.

MCI is owned by Verizon. All service in the San Francisco area was sold to Frontier, who are all over. Amanda at Frontier (West Virginia) was as helpful as she could be, but because the MCI part of Verizon was not part of the deal, she sadly admitted that she was of no use. The MCI customer service wallah, when I finally got a hold of him, was useful. And I commend him.
Verizon was no stinking use whatsoever.

It was an excellent smoke. A blend of red Virginia with a touch of dark leaf, and smidgeon of Perique. Soothing and reverie inducing.
Very good for the soul.


The pipe pictured above is something I finally started smoking this year, after leaving it in brand new condition in a box with over a dozen other briars I haven't even begun to use yet; all purchased from Marty Pulvers when he still ran Sherlock's Haven down on Battery Street (Financial District) late nineties early two thousands.

I was working for the Law Firm of Regrettable Memory at the time.
That was my first exposure to the Marin County mentality.
With which I continue to have issues.

Yeah, I called MCI on my new cell-phone.
Different number and company.
Clear, no static.

TOBACCO INDEX


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