Our internet service went down the other day…conveniently, this was a day the heathens needed the computer to complete multiple school assignments using internet research. Yes, I was aggravated. But I dealt. Trying to research famous hurricanes on an iPhone for my 9 year-old was not my idea of a good time, but I sure did it.

After a day or so, I started to wonder if it was a problem with something in our house, instead of the service itself. After all, a full day would have been plenty of time for any service problems to be resolved, right?

Soooooo, I called AT&T technical support, and after navigating the never-ending automated menu, I finally ended up with a person who clearly resides in a country other than my own. No big deal, but he had to repeat every sentence at least twice before I could understand what he was saying. This made for a very long process.

THREE hours later, and after following instructions dealing with computer settings and command prompts that I had no business messing with, my technical support “friend” declares the problem to be our modem, and breaks the news that I’ll need to shell out $125 for a new one.

Fine. Bleepity-bleep-bleep…fine.

THE VERY NEXT DAY, I go to the doctor to find out that EVERYONE in my town’s AT&T internet is down. Despite three hours with technical support, those clowns somehow missed that the problem really was on their end.

Well, dang.

So, I called technical support again, hoping to cancel said modem order. What I got was a recording informing me that they knew there was an outage, and to press “0” if I needed further assistance. Which I did. The line would ring once, then HANG UP ON ME…three…dang…times. Finally, I called another number, and kept repeatedly pressing “0,” despite the automated voice trying to convince me it really needed to know more about my problem to help me. After the tenth “0,” a huffy computer voice finally transferred me to a real, live person, who told me it was too late to recall the modem.

Now, I will have endure the hoopla of sending the modem back, but no big deal. At least I could bask in the knowledge that my internet would be restored soon.

Until, last night.

Oooooohhhh, last night.

When I finally saw the mystical internet light on my modem blink green, I rushed to my computer to rejoice in my connectivity…not that I’m an addict or anything, but I sure love my Kindle Fire…which needs Wi-Fi…as does every computer and the main TV in our house.

As it turns out, my “FRIEND” in technical support had me change so much crap on our computers that our in-house wireless network now isn’t functioning. If I want internet, I have to sit on the floor of the empty nursery, and plug directly into a modem that, up until this point, had been concealed in a cabinet. All other computers, my Kindle, the TV, etc. are now cut off for at least the next two weeks, until my husband is able to come home and fix it.

I am not happy, Bob…not happy.

In fact, after trying to fix the mysterious issue for another two hours last night, I erupted into hysterical tears that were completely disproportionate to the situation at hand.

I know it’s the pregnancy talking, but I’m starting to take this personally. AT&T…you and I may be headed for a break-up.