Here I would just like to vent about Husband's lifelong commitment to his friends and everything they recommend. Having written those words, I have momentarily experienced a gag reflex.
In order to fit in with his friends, he has: bought into a pyramid scheme; voted for George W. Bush; pulled all his teeth in favor of dentures; and bought a John Deere tractor with all the trimmings; sold said tractor with all the trimmings at a discount to a friend when said tractor proved too much a challenge (hooking up trimmings; unhooking trimmings; turning on, and basically using said tractor).
When Verizon's gadget arrived, Husband dutifully followed directions to set up the new system. Nothing worked and his heart monitor began to flash hysterically (he has a defibrillator which uses a phone line to the doctor). Your basic disaster is occurring on all fronts and Husband begins the calling.
Husband begins the calling.
With his cell phone and my cell phone on both ears, he deals separately with Verizon Wireless and Verizon, who are different companies with evidently no information exchange. The Wireless Verizon got high marks from Husband and he was a gentleman. Verizon in a plain brown wrapper was a long and darkly different story.
I usually distance myself from Husband and his telephone conversations like a happy little tortoise receding into the comfort of her shell, putting the turmoil at a safe distance. This maneuver only works when you're not in the center of the road. From the living room I kept hearing vocal escalation and a peppering of abusive tones, and, yes, cursing. This went on steadily and no apologetic tones were detected.
"Why in the he** do I need a credit check when I have been doing business with you for 30 years? I don't want to terminate my number and yes the number is available because I'm using it! I am including my cell phone via the gadget Verizon sent us. No! You don't need my social security number because you already have it. My address is the same as 30 years ago. No! Not Mathews, Hudgins. I have not a damned thing to do with Cobbs Creek"
This went on for hours, repeating the same information and cursing loudly. After all this, the new setup is revealed to be incompatible with the heart monitor and has to be returned. Concern for his health was real, he was so overheated. "When I'm dead," he pleaded, "get rid of that damned land line!"
"No problem," I returned.
Today he seems over it and is off to a friend's funeral. Anything to cheer him up!