The Truth about Tech Support

I used to think that I was a diamond in the rough when talking to a customer representative. I was the one individual who showed some semblance of a brain, a veritable ray of sunshine piercing the dark and muddy atmosphere of countless neophytes.

It would seem that I have been mistaken. The pain is immediate, a piercing tablet stylus jammed between my teeth and gums, but after some minutes I acclimate, desensitized, to all sense of rejection and betrayal. After a few minutes more, I begin to think it just as well that such mirages fade away.

After all, what stands between me and my tech-helper guru friend? I will be the first to admit a many long night spent whispering bit-mask codes into the microphone, only to be informed that the architecture requires hex code instead of decimal. Oh yes, I remember... I do.

And still, it seems I have no working Linux Box! Configuration promises much nail-biters still to come. I can easily imagine arguments between us, hissed as thinly veiled intimations to my man across the line.

"Never! Never! Shall I ever pay tender to men such as you! Now bugger you off! The line I'll now sever, so go on and shoo!" (I might say at times when I don't feel okay)

And again the handle I hold is slammed right back down. I breathe fumes out my mouth, and must remember to breathe, though that rarely helps much(Though now that I think it, perhaps I have dragged my lament out too much in my rush).

At the end of the day, things boil to facts. I must face the flush truth, that I'm much better off...with a fax.