Moving house: diary of a dial-up user (part 3)
I'm continuing my diary of the troubles I'm having with getting broadband into my new house. I never thought it would be this difficult, but indeed these posts prove it really can be.
The guy who used to moved out a couple of weeks ago came round a bit later to pick up his post that hadn't redirected yet. I thought it was about time to implement Operation "Mean Bastard".
Let me run this by you first, more of a justification to make me feel less bad about it. He'd already been snappy with me over the phone without realizing I'm a stocky lad who was a good handful of inches taller than him. I can be intimidating with my height, build and certain career activities, and it worries me because I'm genuinely a nice chap. However, he's been screwing me around for the last month and essentially causing this whole bloody mess.
I opened the door, and with a presumptuous step, moved his foot to the bottom ledge of the door, about to step into the house. I put my foot on top of his and glared him in the eye. He looked a little stunned.
"You need to ring up BT and Tiscali, your ISP, right? And you need to cancel your accounts so I can get my own phone line and broadband setup in my house. Until then, you don't get your post. I'll look forward to you bringing me some good news in the following days."
He'd cowered back slightly so I shut the door. With the semi-opaque glass in the door, I saw his long, greasy haired silhouette in the window pane just standing there for a few seconds, before my news sunk in and he slumped off.
I'm not proud of that, but there comes a point where you can't handle people screwing you around any more. Victory.
Read previous Moving house diaries: