I’m going to start this post with a big, extended: SIIIIIIIIGH! There, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way I feel much better.Where was I? Oh, yes, I was about to write about our quest to get wi-fi installed in our apartment may have come to a sad end. Remember when I itinally wrote about the problem? And then when I vented about the craptastic service from the geniuses at Movistar?
Well, something may have topped that. Yes, for real. Once we decided to cancel our service with Movistar (service being a generous term since it never worked, ever), we started looking for competitors. My husband called VTR. Immediately, they stated, “We don’t own the cables in that building, so we have to see your rental contract.” That’s right. The rental agreement. Like we would be trying to hook up an apartment that isn’t ours because we are just that nice.
In the meantime, I took my computer to the Mac Online store in Santiago to get it checked out. Because if it really was malfunctioning, I was going to cry, throw something at a wall, or maybe both…The tech assured me that my
baby macbook was running perfectly and that the internet providers here are inherently morons who don’t know how to install a router. Okay, I may have edited his comment to make my point. Just a bit…
Finally, after a week and a lot of scrounging around for the stupid rental agreement, VTR gets back to us with their verdict. Are you ready? Are you REALLY ready? Here it is: Dang. We don’t have permission to install in that building.
Really? I mean, seriously? You needed a rental contract to see that? A simple MAP wouldn’t have done it? GAH! Just an example of lots of useless, meaningless, inefficient crap you have to do in order to be told more useless, meaningless, inefficient crap. Sorry, is my annoyance showing?
At any rate, I’ve been back to coffee-shopping it up. I know. Poor me, right? I’ve become quite the regular at the one I frequent. I am practically on a first name basis with the baristas. Well, kind of. They know my favorite drinks, but I try to switch it up. Got to keep them on their toes. It makes life interesting, people.
It reminds me of when I worked at a coffee shop during college. Yes, I was a barista at a small-town, family owned coffee shop for almost two years. Best freaking job ever. I remember all of our regulars who would come in. I can’t remember their names anymore, but I can still recall their nicknames: Conspiracy Theorist, Southern Gentleman, Tweaker, Divorced Soccer Mom, Refill Lady, The Sicilian. We weren’t always kind.
I wonder, what do they call me? Small Coffee and Wi-fi Girl? I usually remember to tip, so I hope it’s at least nice!
Sadly, it looks like I may need to curb my java habit in light of my recent heart palpitations, headaches, anxiousness, and general hating everyone who crossed my path, after I sucked down two cups in less than an hour.
What’s a girl who needs to be connected to do?