season of darkness...
The salesgirl, a pert and pretty little thing, demonstrated several models - the courage to buy on line had failed me - and I settled on a Dell, 14" inch, preloaded with Windows 7 (the same program as on my desktop, a good omen, I told myself) with a metallic blue top (which hadn't influenced me in the slightest, I repeatedly told myself, already remembering how often Alice talked to herself in Wonderland). All I had to do, she assured with me, was take it out of the box and plug it in. I felt that familiar "too good to be true" doubt creeping into my mind, and I questioned her severely about this but she held her ground and finally, with less certainty than I'd started in with, I handed over my credit card.
At home, with The Device out of the box and plugged in, the situation took a dismal and downhill turn - no matter what I did, there was no internet access. Frustrated but not willing to concede, I determined to take it back and ask for help, not realizing that it was long past closing. The next best thing was Dell support - they proudly advertised their 24-7 service, their commitment to customers, their professionalism and expertise. The one thing they didn't advertise was any proficiency in the English language - once connected to a technician in New Delhi (as best I could determine, operating from the center of a barnyard), I felt despair and regret. A tiny voice (a gnat? I mused) seemed to be sighing and whispering in my ear - it sounded ruefully like I told you so.......told you so .....told you so......
After a fruitless two hour support session, tech support determined that my existing modem did not have the facility for a wireless connection, but that I could buy a wireless router and they would guide me through installation. Or, they were quick to point out, I could connect the cable from my desktop to my laptop and use it thus. It took some time to make them understand that if I wanted to sit on the bedroom floor with the laptop connected to the desktop, I might as well use the desktop (irony may not be the same in this country and India), but I eventually agreed and the following day returned to the place of purchase and obtained a wireless router. From 11:00 that morning - New Year's Day, did I mention - until past 5:00 that afternoon, a new technician ( but undeniably in the same barnyard) guided and instructed me through a set up process. About halfway through, my overworked cell phone died which forced us to email communications and a three hour delay while it recharged, but in the end despite networks and cables and a nearly fatal language barrier, The Device was finally wirelessly connected. The desktop,however, as I discovered the following morning, was not. Feeling slightly homicidal, I initiated a second, three hour support session - another barnyard, another technician - and eventually, the desktop internet was restored.
Day Four: A long and tedious day at work, rejuventated by a ham sandwich, a cup of tomato soup and the promise of an early bedtime, I turned on The Device. The "no internet connection " appeared immediately and for just a moment, I considered packing it and all its contents into my car and driving directly through BestBuy's plate glass window at maximum speed. With a shotgun. In a rare moment of reason, I instead decided a live chat with Dell Support would be more productive - I connected on the desktop, followed their instructions to disconnect one cable and reconnect it to The Device and immediately lost internet access on both computers. I changed the cables back and reconnected, received the same instructions, obtained the same results. On the third attempt, I refused to touch another cable and after a half hour's worth of back and forth was advised that I was speaking to a hardware technician and that the problem was in the software so would I please contact - by telephone only - a pay for service department. No,I carefully typed back, I will not.
Another several minutes of back and forth, I could feel my temper building. I counted to ten, then twenty, then slowly typed I have spent nothing but time and money on a product that it useless to me and I will not spend one more minute or one more dime listening to any technician that cannot speak English. You should be ashamed. And before I could rethink the words, I punched "Send" and "Exit". It was a little past midnight.
The cell phone chirped me awake a little after one am and I steeled myself for another round of "support".
I don't speak Indian, I said sharply, So if you don't speak English then don't waste my time.
A lilting, sing song but far more understandable voice answered me with an immediate apology and an offer to help. Against my better judgement, I relented but alas, too little, too late. They would have a technician call and make an appointment to come and repair it, they said, all their resources were exhausted and they had come to the conclusion that the sim card was bad. I had no idea what that meant and discovered that I cared even less.
The following day, I brought The Device with me to work to await the technician. Our software rep happened to me there and she volunteered to look at it - in less than six keystrokes, I was connected on line, and she gave me clear and easy instructions to connect at home, instructions which actually worked. My mind, which had been feeling like a un-put-together jigsaw puzzle designed in India, seemed to clear - I still have no idea how it all works, no real understanding of wifi or networks or how so called support could be so unsupportive and flat out wrong - but it matters not. The battle is won - and even my new ipod, courtesy of my cousin, functions.
Next: Music downloads to the ipod my cousin so generously sent me. Stand aside, New Delhi, I'm on my way.
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