The lesser spotted Bell technician

Here in the Nation's Capital, we have our choice of service providers for Internet, telephone and cable TV. We have Rogers, who are shite, and we have Bell, who are shite. Bell and Rogers own all the infrastructure, and so nobody else can become competition. Some months, Bell are more shite than Rogers; other months Rogers are more shite than Bell. Then they switch. It stops people from changing company. 

Every now and again, they increase the prices by about 20 percent, without telling you. Then you have to spend 2 hours on the phone with, checks notes, Rosalee in Thailand. The next day your Internet stops working. It's like dealing with the mafia. Don't question the bill or you'll find a horse's head in your bed. 

So the day after the Internet stopped working and Mrs. Ottawacker was unable to work, I was unable to work and Ottawacker Jr. was unable to attend school, we sat around waiting for the technician to attend and, checks notes again, replace the copper wires with fibre optic. 

"Will it help and make things faster?" I asked. "Things were really good until yesterday, then it sort of dropped off a cliff."

It was a turn of phrase I instantly regretted.

Four hours later, the Bell man told us the Internet was fixed and we could go back to work. We thanked him profusely, giving him gifts of muffins and tea. Socially distanced, of course. He drove away, smiling.

That was when we found out he hadn't connected the phone or the TV. And the Internet was now working only sporadically. 

So I tried to contact Bell using the sporadic Internet service, which worked as well as you might imagine it did. Later the same day, a man came around. He was 6 foot 6 and driving a dark Mercedes. 

"I am here," he said, "to make sure you receive the Bell service you are paying for."

He fixed it all up and left, smiling.

Never, ever, question your Bell bill. Or complain about the service.