- Sep 25, 2000
- 22,135
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The Worst Christmas Poem Ever
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, nobody had broadband -- not even the mouse. The Cat-5 was solid, the router was there, and the CPU's fan left a hum in the air.
Yet upon every warm boot, and even those cold, no connection was found, and it really got old. Not a trick seemed to work. Error messages were screwy. Could it be TCP/IP? Could it be the NetBEUI?
I tried an old dial-up, and I fell to the floor. Not a handshake was there -- even at 14.4! My circuits were busy, the dial tone, it mocked. I threw down the receiver; to the cell phone we flocked.
I sought a fair audience with whom to cavort. My mother? My father? Heck no, tech support!
"The caller you want seems to be out of range," so a I grabbed a warm tonic as my stomach felt strange. "Just wait a few minutes and dial again," was the message I heard for two hours and ten. Then all of a sudden, I heard a fast "click." I was confident now. This will surely be quick!
I skimmed through the FAQ list, sat on hold for a while, 'til a dark, ugly scowl had dismantled my smile. The grim tape recording built up the discord. "Have you checked the on/off switch? Or the black power cord?"
"Just send us an e-mail, or go onto our site." But how can I do that, when I can't connect right?
"Your call," the tape said, "is important to us." The twelfth time I heard that, I blew out my truss! I could picture them laughing, as phone lines lit up. Their laughter grew louder as nog filled their cup.
Then I heard a low voice on the end of the line. They had taken my call, at three quarters past nine! His demeanor was angry; his tone not at all nice. But he answered the phone, and he gave me advice.
"Release All! Renew All! Run Win IP Config! Type the new subnet mask, and don't be such a prig! Click 'OK' to all, and reboot the machine." His next seven words were quite clear, but obscene.
I questioned his rage, and I pondered his power. But at minimum wage, there's no wonder he's sour.
I once thought myself the unluckiest of all. My connection goes down, and I climb up the wall. But there's a group much worse off, I've just come to see -- those people who help the poor people like me.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, nobody had broadband -- not even the mouse. The Cat-5 was solid, the router was there, and the CPU's fan left a hum in the air.
Yet upon every warm boot, and even those cold, no connection was found, and it really got old. Not a trick seemed to work. Error messages were screwy. Could it be TCP/IP? Could it be the NetBEUI?
I tried an old dial-up, and I fell to the floor. Not a handshake was there -- even at 14.4! My circuits were busy, the dial tone, it mocked. I threw down the receiver; to the cell phone we flocked.
I sought a fair audience with whom to cavort. My mother? My father? Heck no, tech support!
"The caller you want seems to be out of range," so a I grabbed a warm tonic as my stomach felt strange. "Just wait a few minutes and dial again," was the message I heard for two hours and ten. Then all of a sudden, I heard a fast "click." I was confident now. This will surely be quick!
I skimmed through the FAQ list, sat on hold for a while, 'til a dark, ugly scowl had dismantled my smile. The grim tape recording built up the discord. "Have you checked the on/off switch? Or the black power cord?"
"Just send us an e-mail, or go onto our site." But how can I do that, when I can't connect right?
"Your call," the tape said, "is important to us." The twelfth time I heard that, I blew out my truss! I could picture them laughing, as phone lines lit up. Their laughter grew louder as nog filled their cup.
Then I heard a low voice on the end of the line. They had taken my call, at three quarters past nine! His demeanor was angry; his tone not at all nice. But he answered the phone, and he gave me advice.
"Release All! Renew All! Run Win IP Config! Type the new subnet mask, and don't be such a prig! Click 'OK' to all, and reboot the machine." His next seven words were quite clear, but obscene.
I questioned his rage, and I pondered his power. But at minimum wage, there's no wonder he's sour.
I once thought myself the unluckiest of all. My connection goes down, and I climb up the wall. But there's a group much worse off, I've just come to see -- those people who help the poor people like me.
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