Tuesday, June 17, 2008

At Caribou...again


Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like Caribou Coffee and all their tasty concoctions. Quite the contrary. But nearly two weeks without internet is beginning to grate on me. You see, we’re currently residing in a big house just outside the District leading and fueling the JHOP and Rizpah Company–a 24/7 Silent Siege of the Supreme Court that’s been going on since April 28th. That’s on top of a daily stand that’s been going on since October of 2004 (shameless plug).


This house we’re renting is new. Like brand new. The dilemma seems to be that when you call up the local provider and say, “Hey! How ’bout some of them internets?” they say, “We got those! Let us put you in the system for an install.” They hang up the phone, and type in the address which doesn’t show up. So then that guy figures it must have been a mistake and decides he’s late for lunch anyway. Budget a couple days worth of Caribou Coffee and free wifi in the meantime. Twiddle thumbs. Look at watch, look out the window for serviceman, look at watch, look out the window, etc.

When nobody ever shows, you place another phone call to the local provider to say, “What gives?” When no record of the previous scheduling shows in the system, they’re more than happy to make a new one. Hang up the phone, type in the home address, it doesn’t show, they assume it must be another mistake and, dang, late for lunch again.

Repeat this no less than five times and buy stock in Caribou Coffee.

The schedule is one which doesn’t work if I go downtown early in the morning. Yet that’s exactly what I decided to do yesterday to use our own wifi at the JHOP and try to get a little work done. Scratch that; it wasn’t working. The smell of Cosi Bread and free wifi down the street was irresistible at that point, however their’s was out of commission too. I don’t want to succumb to the Capitol Hill atmosphere, but this is starting to feel like a conspiracy. I’m starting to look for mysterious panel vans parked near me full of high tech equipment and agents dressed as flower delivery men.

Do you ever have the irrational feeling that you’re being...shhhh...surveilled?

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