Someone at Comcast Hates Hubby Right Now

My inlaws are having trouble with their TV/Cable/Phone service. They can make calls, but they can't receive them. Hubby has done a bit to verify the problem the best he can from being 30 minutes away, and managed to get them to answer their GD&*!@ cell phones (for a change) but doesn't have their account number to call and actually report the problem. Father-in-law doesn't either.

"Dad, it's on your bill."

"My what?"

"Your bill. That you pay every month."

"Yes, I paid it."

"Great, now find it."

"Find what?"

Sigh. "Find your bill, Dad. The one you paid."

"Oh, I filed it."

"Great. Go get it."

Shuffling of papers, line goes dead. Hubby calls back a cell phone and gets his mother this time, who has no clue any of this is going on. After a minute, he gets his father, who is trying to call Comcast. He’s confused by the IVR (Interactive Voice Response) system. He’s not giving the ‘correct’ responses. Hubby tells him to press ‘0’.

“No, not ‘oh’, Dad, press ‘zero,’ the number. Just keep pressing zero.”

“But that’s not one of the options.”

“Trust me.”

Presses zero, simulated female computer voice pretends to be confused. It upsets the eighty-year-old.

“I don’t think that was right.”

“If you have the account number, I can call.” (Hubby usually calls and pretends to be his father. It’s better for everyone.)

“No, I have the bill.”

“Okay, just keep pressing zero, Dad. They’ll give in.”

The eighty-year-old is surprised (I have no idea why, he should trust Hubby by now) when the simulated female computer voice offers him a representative. He takes the option like a drowning man. And hangs up on us in the process. Hubby calls back, gets his mother again, who – again- has no idea what is going on even though she’s answering on the cell phone that was right there while his father struggled with Comcast. She pauses and informs us he’s talking to someone.

Hubby clarifies, “Is he pressing buttons or speaking responses to an automated system, or actually talking to someone? Someone alive.”

“He’s talking to someone in Spanish.”

Okay . . . Well, Father-in-law happens to know Spanish, so if that’s how it has to be, so be it.  Unfortunately, I dare say he knows fewer technical terms in Spanish than he does in English, so that should be interesting. Some poor tech support person is helping a tech-challenged eighty-year-old who’s not even speaking his primary language.

In other words, someone at Comcast hates Hubby right now.

Baked Goods Exchange: and the Winner is . . .

So, the annual ‘exchange of baked goods’ marathon has finally reached an end. Or, in the case of my small cul-de-sac, a temporary reprieve until pie-like fruits and berries are widely available. The final results: I am ahead in the production quality of chocolate chip cookies, although lagged sadly behind in sheer quantity. I blew away the competition in spritz and lemon cookies, in part because I’m the only one of German descent and makes the blasted little spritz, and the only one who made lemon cookies as well. Although it was widely agreed mine are the best. It’s true. On that note, The Girl managed to break the indestructible cookie press I have to use for spritz. She swears it was an accident and I believe her because they’re her favorite. Also, she’s accident prone.

I lost the race in pies and cakes, having not made any. But I am moderately ahead in meringues, not because I was the only one who made them, but because I was the only one who shared. Oddly, there was a suspicious lack of sugar cookies this year. I didn’t make any, and I didn’t receive any, and The Girl’s friends in the neighborhood reported they also had not seen any. Bizarre.

As compensation for the cosmic lack of sugar cookies, we did receive more than the usual amount of boxes of chocolates. I take this as a sign people were not withholding sugar cookies in a subtle effort to tell me I’ve put on a couple pounds during the seasonal bake-a-thon. (I’ve always been of the opinion that you can’t gain weight by eating meringues because they’re mostly air.)

Oh, and toffee. I missed the toffee and vanilla caramels. Not that I can’t make them myself, but that I usually don’t. Unfortunately, I had other confections slated for production that I didn’t get to. This creates a problem. I have all this unrefined sugar and accessories on hand, so I sort of have to make them. Pecan-brittle, for example. (I prefer not to put peanuts in my brittle and instead use pecans or almond slivers. I’m a brittle snob.) But if I make it, I have to eat it or find a suitable occasion to pass it off on others.  Everyone’s still recovering from feast and sugar-induced indigestion, they don’t need more.  And in a couple days, everyone will swear off calories and call it a resolution.  

Of course I do have two teenagers in the house. Last year I wasn’t successful at bribing them into doing extra chores with sugar at a time that’s overflowing with sweets, but I can give it another shot. What do you think? Toffee for vacuuming, caramels for dusting, brittle for putting away their laundry which they should be doing already . . .