your circuit's dead, there's something wrong

Sometimes, I catch myself acting like a real idiot. Just this week, as a matter of fact, I behaved like an idiot of the highest (or lowest, depending on your gauge) order.

For years now, Mrs. Pincus and I have gotten into the habit of falling asleep with the television on... and leaving it on all night. At one time, we had one of the first televisions with a sleep timer. That was great. We'd watch TV. I'd set the timer on the remote to shut off in ninety minutes and everything was fine. After a while, I'd forget to set the timer. Then, the timer button on our remote stopped working altogether. Then.. ah, screw it! We just left the TV on all night. Surprisingly, it didn't bother us. We kept the volume low. The light from the television was better — and certainly more entertaining — than any nightlight. It got so we couldn't get to sleep if the television wasn't on all night. We didn't limit this ritual to our home either. We'd leave the television on all night in hotel rooms while on vacation. When we visited my wife's cousin Juniper in Virginia Beach, she graciously offered us accommodations in a spare bedroom in her apartment. While the room was equipped with a queen-size bed, alas, it was without a television. Talk about roughing it. It was like camping.

Earlier this year, we were introduced to Comcast's (or Xfinity or whatever they're calling themselves these days) fabulous and innovative X-1 platform, the greatest thing to happen to television since Morton Downey Jr. died. We bought a 32" flat-screen, high-definition television to replace the big, square dinosaur that previously was perched upon the high bureau in our bedroom. Now, my wife and I are gently lulled to sleep by the soft, panoramic glow of our Samsung Model UN32J4000AFXZA. Every so often, I wake up in the middle of the night and I'll switch the channel from the harsh reality of CNN to the friendlier tones of a fifty-year-old rerun of I've Got a Secret on BUZZR. Then, I'll just fall back asleep. 

Sometimes, I am awakened by the lack of sound. Startled, I lift my head from my pillow and, not wishing to feel around for my glasses squint at the silent television. I can barely make out a message on the screen instructing me to restart the cable box for a software update. I force myself out of bed, careful not to wake my sleeping missus. I unplug and immediately re-plug the power cord from the back of the box and, after a series of messages chronicling the status of service, my television comes back to life and I go back to sleep. This happened a few nights ago... with much different, much scarier results.

Willkommen! Bienvenue! Welcome!

In my sleep, I could sense an eerie quiet in our bedroom. There was the low, white noise hum emanating from the small fan on my wife's dresser. The television screen was bright but silent, an image of a local weather forecaster frozen in mid-point filled its oblong surface. I got out of bed and shuffled to the TV. I fumbled around for the connection at the back off the small cable box and yanked the cord out. The room was plunged into darkness. Again, I felt around and plugged the cord back in. The blue light on the front of the box blinked in an irregular pattern and the familiar and comforting "Welcome" message  appeared on the screen, as it had numerous times before after performing this simple procedure. I slogged back to bed and lay with my eyes closed, waiting for the sound of the television which should be arriving... any... second.

Nothing. A few minutes went by. Long minutes.

Still nothing.

Instead of the usual "Connecting to the X1 Platform" message that appears within a few minutes of powering up, my poor television had this splashed across it:

Did it, did it and did it.

Eeech! I don't want to see this. Instantly, I thought of a trip to the local Xfinity office to exchange my (possibly) faulty cable box. Would they be open when I got home from work? Would Mrs. Pincus have to interrupt her day to return the box? Ugh! I hate to be inconvenienced. I turned the TV off in disgust.

At this point, my alarm went off and I had to get up for work. I went into the den and hit the remote to turn the TV on. The screen flashed to life, displaying a frozen image of a CNN anchor, poised mid-read, her lips locked in an unnatural curl, her right eye slightly closed. I unplugged the cable box and exercised the same procedure on this cable connection as well. 

As part of my usual morning routine, I went to the third floor of my house, to our computers, to post the daily celebrity death anniversaries on Facebook. (Give a "like" to my Facebook page so you don't miss out.) With a touch of the mouse, my sleeping computer awakened to tell me there was no internet service available. I glanced over at the router/modem combination (a "gateway" is was XFinity calls it) and saw that the "online" light was out. Only the "power" light was lazily blinking at the top of the stack of indicator lights. No cable service at all? I panicked. I mean real cold sweat, throbbing temples, can't-think-straight, end-of-the-world panic! (Okay. I might be exaggerating, but not as bad as Ryan Lochte, but, I was really panicked!) I looked at the display screen on the nearby telephone and saw the "No Service" message. (We have the Xfinity "Triple Play" package and are forced to maintain a land line, otherwise our cable bill will skyrocket higher than the ridiculously high cost we are already charged.) No TV. No internet. No telephone. Oh my God! I was stuck on Gilligan's Island except there was no Professor to fix the problem with coconut shells and salt water!

I scrambled downstairs and checked the Xfinity website on my phone, reluctantly eating up precious data units on the 4G network since my WiFi was out. After logging into my account, I was told there was a full service outage in my area. The anticipated restoration of service was in the 10 o'clock hour. 10 o'clock? That was four hours from now. I ran up and down the stairs checking and rechecking all of my many cable connections. And then I checked them again.

I finally went downstairs and poured myself a cup of coffee and fixed a bowl of cereal. I carried my breakfast up to the den and sat in front of the giant screen of my cable-less television, staring at my own sad reflection in the black glass. The only sound I could hear was the crunching of Cheerios in my mouth and the occasional sipping of coffee. No local news. No Today Show. No iCarly. No television entertainment of any type. Time dragged. I sulked. It was pathetic.

Suddenly, the clock on the cable box activated on its own, displaying the correct time. I grabbed the remote and hit the power button. The huge television screen brightened and — oh yeah! — I was connected! Connected to the wonderful world of mindless visual stimulation! My cable was back!

I thought about this little episode and my ridiculous behavior. I played it over again in my head. Disconnecting the cable boxes. Running up and down the steps like my house was on fire. Checking all of the connections like I suffered from an advanced case of obsessive/compulsive disorder.  If I was being watched, I'm sure I would have come across as looking like an idiot.

Well, I may be an idiot, but, I'm an idiot with cable.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

that's entertainment

Television is not evil, no matter what George Orwell or anybody says. I grew up watching television and I grew up loving television and I turned out okay.

We had a big black & white TV set in our den that my family gathered around to watch programs like Bewitched, The Flintstones and my parents' favorite, Gunsmoke. On Sunday evenings, like most Americans, we'd watch The Ed Sullivan Show. On Saturday mornings, I'd plop down on the floor with a big bowl of Froot Loops and watch cartoons. Later in the afternoon, my brother would commandeer the set to watch wresting, so I'd just go upstairs to our shared bedroom and watch the smaller television that we shared as well. We had televisions all over the house!

When I was in 9th grade, my mom won a color television in a sales contest at her job. This pleased and excited the whole family, especially my father, who was relieved of the thought of shelling out a portion of his hard-earned salary for a new TV. A color television opened up a whole new world. We marveled at Jeannie's Arabian costume in its full, hot pink glory. We "oohed" and "ahhed" at Lucy's bright red hair. And, during the annual showing of The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy opened her front door after the twister set her down, the beauty of Oz finally made sense. (Before this, Oz looked a lot like Kansas.)

In the early 1980s, home entertainment took on a new dimension. My parents broke down and bought a VCR, the first piece of advanced modern technology that my father purchased since buying a car with an automatic transmission. Now, we were in full control of what the Pincuses would watch and when we would watch it. We recorded shows and watched them at our convenience. We could fast-forward through annoying commercials and rewind to hear dialog we may have missed. Plus, we could rent and watch theatrical movies (including pornography that my father would sneak in when the house was empty). This was the future and it was happening right now! 

When my wife and I bought a house in the suburbs of Philadelphia, our first order of business was arranging for cable television service. In 1986, cable was not available within the city limits, despite its abundance in the suburbs for over a decade. As movers carted boxes, bureaus and beds into our new home, a technician ran wires and tightened connections to bring us the likes of MTV and the debut of QVC. We also purchased a giant, state-of-the-art VCR, complete with an imposing, multi-button remote control, most of which we never used (or understood).

As the years went on, we supplemented our two televisions with several more, including a TV/VCR combination for our son's room, a 13" TV that nestled next to the printer in my wife's third floor office and a huge, 32" monster — with the enormous, ass-end of the picture tube protruding from the back like the posterior of a hippopotamus — for our newly-renovated basement. That thing weighed a fucking ton and has not moved since the day it was set upon its stand. And that's how the entertainment status remained for years in the Pincus household.

Until recently.

My (much younger) co-workers always joke with me about my television-watching habits. When I start to tell them about movie I saw on TV, they immediately interrupt, asking if it was in color. When asked if I own a flat-screen, high-definition television, I reply, "What's the point? Everything I watch is in black & white and everyone in the cast is dead." But, in an effort to reduce our outrageously high cable bill, my wife called our "pals" at Comcast for a little chat. After a few minutes of automated answering and rerouting of our call, Mrs. P finally got to talk with a real live person. he explained — in perfect nonsensical Comcast logic — that our bill could be lowered if we upgrade our service to their signature X1 platform. Upgrade service to lower the bill? Typical Comcast. Nevertheless, we agreed and after a few service and equipment replacements (and mishaps), we were up and running with the entertainment miracle that is X1. 

The first thing we noticed was that the new cable boxes were automatically switching, whether we liked it or not,  to high-definition (HD) channels. We do not own HD compatible televisions. We still had our our old reliable, giant-backed, picture tube-equipped models — and those tubes were displaying a very blurry picture. So, here we were with brand-spankin' new service paired up with our stone-age TVs. There was only one thing to do. We bought a 43" LG HD flat-screen smart TV for our den and a 32" Samsung version for our bedroom.

Oh. My. God.

43" baby!

I don't know how I manage to leave the house. It's a TV watcher's dream. Bright, vivid colors. Clear, crisp images that are so real you can count the blades of grass on a baseball field, see the few hairs that are left on Matt Lauer's head and examine every pore and imperfection on everyone's face. (Proactiv commercials are the best... I mean the worst!) Not only that, but the new system allows you to stop and rewind live broadcasts. You can start an already in-progress show from the beginning. And, best of all, you can talk to the remote! That's right! Just like the Jetsons! (The Jetsons was a cartoon in the 1960s that..... oh, never mind!) Just push the little "microphone" button and say "Watch Channel 6" and it goes to channel 6. (Actually, it goes to channel 806, the HD version of our local ABC affiliate. It's that smart!) You can also tell the remote to find specific shows by name. This is pretty cool, although as a 55 year-old man, I feel weird asking the remote to watch iCarly. (I think the show is funny. Go fuck yourself.) The system has an expanded and extensive channel guide featuring actors' bios and related viewing, as well as a cool "last channel watched" feature that logs the previous eight channels that were viewed, even from the last time the TV was turned off. It is truly a marvel of entertainment and technology. (This from someone who was instantly fascinated by the now-obsolete fax machine.)

And The Andy Griffith Show never looked better.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

treat me right

In the middle of last week, the signal from my wireless home network kept dropping out. Everyday, I would restart the modem and then restart the router and service would be restored. After several consecutive days of this procedure, I rendered my own diagnosis and exchanged the modem at my local Comcast office. I, like most Comcast customers, would try anything rather than calling their notoriously inept tech support. 

When I received my new modem, I was given the instruction to connect it in the same manner as the  previous one and then — dum dum DUM! — call a Comcast toll-free number for activation. Shit! I couldn't get around a phone call to Comcast! I arrived home, connected the new modem in a matter of seconds and then, filled with dread, I punched Comcast's number into my phone. A friendly, automated female voice answered. She identified the number from which I was calling and asked me to select my reason for calling. I pressed "2," indicating I needed activation for a new modem. The robotic voice assured me this could be handled quickly, but suddenly, I was told to hold while my call was transferred to a live technician. Immediately, a stream of bland "hold" music began to play. After a few minutes, the violins and bass were interrupted by a  disinterested monotone voice who rattled of a series of sentences, none of which I understood. 

"I'd like my new modem activated, please.," I said, hoping that the question of 'How can I help you' was buried somewhere in the technician's opening monologue.

"I can help you with that, but first, I  will need some information. May I have your address, please?," the tech asked.

I recited my address, my name and the last four digits of my Social Security number as requested. After a lengthy series of apologies and assuring me that service and satisfaction was her highest priority, the tech told me that my modem was now activated.

And so it was... for approximately two hours. The signal dropped out again. So, reluctantly, I called Comcast back.

The automated voice asked for my phone number and then directed me to tech support. Technician Number 2 also asked for my phone number, as well as the nature of my call. I explained that I exchanged an old modem for a new modem, called for activation and, although I was told it was activated, I was still experiencing a loss of signal. Technician Number 2 asked if I got a new modem and if I called to activate it. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it. I had just finished explaining the issue. I repeated the situation, again in detail. Technician Number 2 asked if I was trying to connect wirelessly. Again, I stared at the phone. After more frustration and a little voice-raising on my part, I was elevated to the next tier of support. The next, higher-level tech (Technician Number 3) had me up-and-running in a matter of minutes, He offered a "ticket number," in case the problem persists and I need to call back. This way, everything will be documented and I won't need to explain it to a new technician unfamiliar with the problem.

I lost my internet signal the next morning.

With my patience waning, I called Comcast back. I offered up my ticket number and Technician Number 4 asked me to explain the entire scenario again. Technician Number 4 told me that I should restart the modem and router if I would like internet service. I told Technician Number 4 how I have restarted my modem and router every day for the past three days. Technician Number 4, phrasing her scripted response differently, told me if I want to receive internet service, I would have to restart the router and modem every day.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it.

"Are you telling me that I have to restart the router and modem every day if I want to get online?," I questioned.

"Yes, if you want to receive internet service." repeated Technician Number 4

"Are you telling me that I pay Comcast $200 per month and, after being a customer for twenty-five years and never restarting my modem that I now would need to restart the modem and router every day if I want internet service?," I repeated, increasing the volume of my voice as I finished my question.

"Yes, if you want to receive internet service." repeated Technician Number 4.

I was livid. I demanded to speak to a supervisor. I was put on hold for twenty minutes. Technician Number 4 returned four times during my "hold" time to assure me that satisfaction was her top priority and that her supervisor would be with me in a moment. One more time, she announced that the supervisor would be the next voice I hear.

And then my call was disconnected.

I called back immediately, angrier than I was on the first call. I rehashed the situation to Technician Number 5, who, first, needed some more information. I ran down the usual info, only this time, I was told the at the last four digits of my Social Security number didn't match the account... even though they matched on the four previous calls, I was grilled for my actual account number, which I recited once I located my current cable bill. When Technician Number 5 was satisfied that I was who I said I was, I asked to speak to a supervisor. It took some additional convincing and some additional "hold" time, but I was ultimately connected to a supervisor. 

The supervisor (now the sixth tech person I have spoken with) was receptive to my complaint, assuring me that it is not the policy of Comcast to have customers restart their modems on a daily basis. He apologized repeatedly and referred to me as "Mr. Josh," as though I was a Southern plantation owner and he was the downstairs butler. He explained that he would retrain the technician who gave me the incorrect information, and when he asked for her name, I asked, "Isn't her name on my account information log?" He replied, "Yes. Yes it is." and he apologized again.

My service was restored and, two days later, it seems to be working fine. Comcast's customer service still sucks, but it could be worse. I could be a Verizon customer.

* * * UPDATE * * *

click to enlarge

This is a screenshot from Comcast's website. It shows instructions for programming a Comcast Universal remote control without any assistance from Comcast technical support. Everything is okay until you get to Step 4, where it tells you to "type in the 5-digit code" and just below, they have selected the most likely code for your model of television. All four digits of it. The last step says "if the code doesn't work, look for another," but offers no additional source for that code. At the bottom of the screen, there is a button that reads "I'm done." 

Oh, I'm done alright.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

I'm so tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for you

In light of a recent story regarding a customer that called to have his cable service disconnected, I had my own personal encounter with the omniscient media entity interchangeably known as Comcast Xfinity.

It seems as though Mrs. Pincus and I are only one of a handful of people that still maintain land line telephone service. We need one to work in conjunction with our home burglar alarm system (although I believe that will be changing). Several years ago, we signed up for Comcast's "Triple Play" package. For one ridiculously high monthly fee, we got high-speed internet, cable television (including a shitload of specialty channels no one could possibly be interested in watching) and telephone service. Within a few days of agreeing to our new deal, an independently contracted technician came to our home to install our new phone service. After two minutes in the basement, he cut every wire leading to our burglar alarm box. Of course, the "it's been tampered with" siren was immediately triggered. With our new phone not yet installed, a representative from the alarm monitoring department called on my wife's cellphone, asking if the police should be dispatched. Long story short, the tech didn't know what he was doing and Comcast bought us a new alarm system.

Two weeks ago, our home phone started acting up — static, no dial tone. So we called the infamous Comcast Customer Service. After "pressing 1" and "pressing 2" and listening carefully to all options because "our menu has changed," my wife finally got to speak to a real live human being — not necessarily a smart one — but a human just the same. After identifying himself by first name and badge number, confirming Mrs. P's identity and assuring us that his top priority was our satisfaction, he offered a number of obvious troubleshooting actions, most of which were tried long before we resigned ourselves to making this call. Several "please hold"s and "thank you for your patience"s later, our issue was elevated to the next tier of customer service. The new phone technician requested an entire recap of the problem, starting from the very beginning. My wife impatiently related each problem again — no dial tone, static in the line, intermittent service. An assessment deemed our call be queued to a further tier and a service call was scheduled.

At 7:15 the next morning, a Comcast truck pulled up and blocked our driveway. A technician knocked on the door and, after welcoming him in, the problem was explained (although I would assume that he had a detailed work order, but it's Comcast, so — who the fuck knows?!?) I headed out to the train station to go to work while my wife followed the guy into the basement. When I arrived at my desk a half-hour later, my wife called to tell me that the Comcast guy had left.

"Problem fixed?," I asked.

"No," she replied, "He says Comcast's equipment is working perfectly. It's the burglar alarm that's screwing things up."

"How long was he there?," I continued my line of questioning.

"Twenty minutes. He only checked where the phone line goes into the alarm control box."

"And, based on that, he was able to figure out that it was not a Comcast problem? Wow."

An appointment was made for a representative from ADT Home Security to come to our house the next day. When he arrived, he thoroughly checked all connections to the control box as well as Comcast's equipment, including modular phone jacks on each of three floors of our house (he found no dial tone in any of them). After an exhaustive inspection of wires and connections throughout our house, the ADT tech told us that it was definitely a Comcast problem. Angered and frustrated after being without phone service for nearly two weeks, Mrs. P called Comcast again, now demanding that a technician be dispatched immediately. She was told no one was available until later that evening, perhaps after 7 PM. When I arrived home from work, we sat out on our front porch and waited. And waited. And waited. The sun set. The street lights flickered on and we were still waiting. 7 PM became 7:30 and then became 8:30. The sky opened up and dumped torrents of fierce rain and crackling lightning lit up the clouds. And still we waited. At 9:30, Mrs. P punched Comcast's number into her cellphone and demanded to know when the serviceman was due. She was told that we were given wrong information and that no service calls are ever scheduled after 7 PM. She added, "You should have never been told that." The Comcast phone operator tried to calm my wife's rancor with a heartfelt (if not rehearsed) apology. Another service call was offered and the date was settled on Tuesday the 29th (today). For those of you keeping score, we have now passed the two-week mark without home phone service.

The same Comcast tech from last week arrived at twenty past seven as I was headed out to work. My wife and I briefly expressed our dissatisfaction with his lack of a comprehensive appraisal of the situation. Again, Mrs. P led him to the basement and I went to work. Three hours later (that's more like it!), we, once again, had home phone service. And the trouble....?

If you remember, way back in the bitter winter weather of February, a large branch, from a tree near our driveway, smashed through our living room window. It seems that on its way down, that branch violently yanked our phone wires from their connections at the side of our house. The Comcast guy never thought to check the state of the wiring leading into the house. As a matter of fact, he never thought to check anything other than the alarm box... which isn't even his company's equipment! Actually, this morning, he called another service technician for assistance and that guy found the shredded wires.

So, at the end of the day, our phone service has been restored and we will receive a minimal credit for our inconvenience.

And Comcast still sucks.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com