I think I must have bad internet karma. Remember when I wrote about a week ago about how the people we borrow our internet from were having internet problems? The deal is this: It’s the building’s wifi, but it’s not actually meant for our apartment, if that makes sense. The building decided to undertake some remodeling and they turned off the wifi – although why, I have no idea because that’s the only thing they turned off. When they turned it back on, it started giving off an erratic signal and, oddly enough, the only page I can view without problems is Facebook. So good thing I rejoined it, right? *sigh*
Being the proactive people we are, we arranged to have Movistar come out and set up wifi. I was elated. “You mean I will no longer have to go to a coffee shop if I want to see a site other than Facebook?”
Then the problems started. They had said they would come on Monday, but when we called said that it would actually be Wednesday. Okay, not terrible. I could live with that.
Wednesday rolled around and the tech called me an hour before he was due and said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to know if I was home. I sprinted home from the coffee shop, much like the Roadrunner, leaving a smoke trail behind me.
The tech was young. If I had to wager, I’d say he was younger than me. For the first 20 minutes, he talked on the phone to someone back in Movistar who walked him through, step by step, how to install the router.
Then he told me to look for the network. I couldn’t find it. He called his friend at Movistar again and configured something else. This time I found it, but as soon as I tried to join, it gave me an error message.
Him: Hmmm…That’s strange, I can find the signal and join. It must be your computer. You have to change your settings in windows.
Me: I don’t have Windows. This is a Mac.
Him: What’s that?
Me: A computer that does not run on Windows.
Him: Oh, right. I think I’ve heard of that. It has to be your computer, because I’m surfing right now.
Excuse me? You think you’ve heard of a Mac? Is this or is it not your JOB?
Me: That’s nice, but the reason we want wifi is so that MY computer can get online.
Him: Well, that’s a problem for you, then isn’t it?
He then deduced, although through what method that has anything to do with logic I’ll never know, that my computer was not finding the signal because it was a password-protected network. He again called back to Movistar and asked how to remove the password. Unfortunately, as soon as he lifted the password, my computer could find and join the network.
He stood up and dusted his hands off on his pants, “So there you have it. We just have to leave the signal open so your computer can find it.” Riiight.
“That’s your solution? That’s not acceptable. We are not going to pay for the whole building to connect. There has to be another way.”
“Find one. I’ve never had this problem before.”
He spent the next two hours crouched over the router, calling various people, arranging the evening’s party with his friends, and girlfriend, amidst asking me if I could see or access the network.
Eventually, he announced he would have to come back the next day with a different router that my “thing” would recognize. Er…my thing? It’s a computer, not the freaking motherboard of a flying saucer!
To his credit, he came back the next morning at 10. I opened the door and was hit immediately with some of the most potent cologne I’ve ever had the displeasure of smelling. If he had filled a Pyrex baking pan with cologne, threw himself in it, and spent the night absorbing it through ever orifice of his body, it could not have been worse. I guessed that it was to combat the effects of the previous night’s carrete, which he had arranged single-handedly from my apartment.
I told him that I had been speaking with some people and that the solution was probably really easy, like changing a channel or something. He bent over the router, configured something, and a minute later the internet worked. He told me that that particular bit of magic had been a last resort, either that or my computer would need special software. Whatever.
Then, I left my computer alone for 30 minutes and came back. Our network had vanished. I couldn’t find it on any device. It was simply gone.
That set off a few more calls to Movistar. One of their “executives” suggested I go get my cable to attach to the router and start hacking it with code he would feed me. “Hahah…what? If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that the job of your tech?” *Click*
Am I to assume then that all Chileans just keep ethernet cords around their house for such router hacking emergencies?
Yesterday, a router repairman showed up. He instantly pulled up the parameters and showed me that one was not optimal. “This means that the previous tech did no do his job correctly, but since I am only the repairman, I can’t reinstall it. It has to be the same tech because Movistar has a policy that we have to correctly close the job and he obviously didn’t set the parameters the right way.”
“That’s a problem because he will not be welcome in my apartment. He doesn’t even know what a Mac is.”
He left and we canceled our wifi with Movistar.
Please tell me, Internet gods, what I did to anger you.