1013: Of Mice and Men in Black

At first I was excited to see that France Telecom's hot line was 1013. To an X-Phile like myself, this was a fun coincidence. I should have taken care to see the signs, however, that the similarities between France Telecom and Chris Carter's most famous creation were numerous:

* Both start out with an auspicious premise (chasing unsolved mysteries/conspiracies and providing sweet, sweet broadband)
* Both have engaging central characters (Mulder and Scully of "It's me" fame and Wanadoo and Orange)
* Both promise a solid future with tangible connections (Mytharc and ADSL)
* Both stutter at stumble at times, but remain mostly dependable (hybrids, supersoldier and hybrids, supersolders)

Then came the final degeneracy into something that no longer resembled the thing with which you had fallen in love in the first place. The alien babies and multiple Samanthas of X-Files become hopelessly entangled "help" lines and equipment malfunctions in my internet world. My connection has died before, and a few weeks ago it did again. I putter around with the hotline for a while to no avail (my French computer vocabulary is not, how you say, au courant?). After a week of no service, I decided to spend a Saturday fixing it. Here's how it went:

1) Walk a mile to the Leclerc to buy an ethernet cable (a colleague had suggested that I might be able to reset my Livebox (the router cum phone cum TV hub cum modern art conversation piece), and I wanted to be sure I didn't raise hell with my telco over something I could fix myself) -- I thought I had had an ethernet cable at home, but I didn't, so one had to be purchased. (Miles walked: 1)

2) Walk a mile back, connect my computer, futz around, determine that it is still broken, and I can't fix it myself. (Miles walked: 2)

3) Walk a mile in the other direction to the France Telecom store in Ferney to seek their assistance. I'm told that I can exchange my Livebox (which my colleague had suggested before). Excited, I walk back to get my Livebox. (Miles walked: 4)

4) Walk back to the store with my Livebox in my hot little hand. Try to exchange my Livebox only to be told that I need an exchange number from the hot line. I asked if I could call from the store, but, no, I could only call from my home line. So I walked back home. (Miles walked: 6)

5) Call the hotline and get an exchange number. Walk back to the store with the Livebox and the hotline exchange number in my hot little hand. Exchange my Livebox and walk home. (Miles walked: 8)

6) Hook up my Livebox. It doesn't work. Call the hotline. It doesn't work. The hotline. The one I called an hour or so before. No longer working. Suspecting a bad connection with the Livebox, I plug the phone directly into the wall. Nothing.

7) Walk back to the store. Tell them my situation. They can do nothing, but they let me call the hotline. The hotline people say there's a problem with their network; someone will come to my apartment by Tuesday evening. I go back home. (Miles walked: 10)

I have spent an entire day walking around, waiting on hold, and talking to people about my problem. People don't believe that I have a problem or they can't help me. Either I'm Mulder trying to convince people that a conspiracy exists or I'm an X-Phile trying vainly to decipher what 1013 wrote in their hot-boxed writing rooms.

Sunday. Nothing works. Monday. Still nothing. Tuesday comes; today's the day, I think. I get home to find a note in my mailbox that someone came by, but they couldn't do anything, as I wasn't home. What? No one said I needed to be at home. I take Thursday off to go to the store and try and get a new technician to come out. I'm told one will come in the afternoon between 4 and 5 PM. I tell the person on the phone that my apartment has no name plate, but I give directions indicating which is mine (it's not hard). The lady on the other end says it will be fine. I go home and wait. Around 4:20, I decide to go downstairs and wait for the guy (I've been checking out the window every 5 minutes or so). On the way to the door, I check my mailbox. Another note: they came, but couldn't find my apartment, so they left.

I run to the store hoping to be able to tack on a return visit to my apartment at the end of their work day. Sadly, this is not possible, the hotline man informs me. Can I schedule another visit for the next day? No, visits can only be scheduled the day of. I explain that I work during the day and that I can't take another day off work to sit around hoping someone comes. He's sympathetic, but says he can't do anything. I ask if I can call in the morning to schedule for the afternoon. Yes, it's possible. I mention that the hotline isn't available early in the morning. He says it is. I ask if I can call at 5 am and schedule someone. He says it's quite doable. I repeat the question, and he confirms. Okay, I'll call before work from the pay phone outside my house.

At 7 AM, I call the hotline. After a wait, I get someone. I explain my problem. He says he can send someone out. Great. He then confirms my location in Paris. Paris? I live across the country from Paris. Oh, he says, the hotline at this hour is only for Paris. The national hotline will open at 8. Frustrated, I head back to my apartment. I get ready for work, and I head out to the phone booth. A new rep talks to me. I ask if a technician can come help me. Sadly, my last request was too recent. No more requests can be made until the afternoon.

Bile rising though the day, I leave early to go to the store to try and send someone out that evening. A nice man tells me that it's impossible for Friday, but he can send someone out on Saturday. Really, I ask? Sure, he says, no problem. This is contradictory to my previous experience, so I have him repeat it. He does. A guy will come between 9 and 1.

The next day at 9 two able and competent technicians show up at my door. They look at my setup, pull out their tools, twiddle around, and are done in under ten minutes. Bam. My connection is back. It only took 2 weeks, 10 miles, and countless time spent on hold. Curse you, Chris Carter!