The Cable Guy

This morning we had our new cable installed. 

I suppose this is not a convenient process for anyone.  But for people with kids this process is like…well…it’s kind of like hell itself came over to your house for a visit. 

I think many moms these days don’t really follow the “one hour of screen time a day” limit for kids.  Some do, and I applaud those women.  They are probably patient and crafty and creative and just all kinds of fun in general.  I am pretty much none of those things.  Well, I am all kinds of fun.  But not in general.  In very specific instances…usually when wine is involved…

Either way, I openly admit that I rely heavily on my TV to get me through the day.  Take it from me, TV is not bad.  TV saves lives. 

When faced with a four hour time period stuck in the house with the bored kids and the barking dogs I began to compile a list of things I would rather be doing:

1.        Having lemon juice poured into a paper cut.

2.       Being set on fire.

3.       Having lemon juice poured into a paper cut WHILE being set on fire.

(And those are just things that popped into my head in the first 2 seconds.  I could definitely come up with a more complete list if anyone is interested in reading that.)

As expected, as soon as the guy rang the doorbell, the dogs began going psycho.  And I don’t have the type of dogs who bark at first and then settle down.  They don't stop barking.  Ever.  So, please, as your reading this story just throw on a recording of two hyper barking dogs...it'll make you feel like you're really THERE!

 

Right away the guy should have had a clue as to what type of house he was walking into.  I don’t know that he encounters many 4 year olds who open the door to a house and say:

“Are you the cable guy?  Good!  We HATE Verizon.  The TV freezes all the time and the remote DOES NOT work! It’s so frustrating!”

Alright then, thanks for highlighting all the reasons we are switching, can we let him in the house now?

The bored children then proceeded to follow this poor man around the house asking him non-stop questions. I wanted to shake them.  Don’t you kids know that by side tracking him like that you are actually putting more distance between you and your next episode of Mickey Mouse Club House?

At first I thought it was nice that he stopped to talk to them.  But then I realized it was just wasting valuable time.  I was trying to get him out of the house as soon as possible.  Which is why it was a really bad idea for me to ask him if he wanted a cup of coffee. 

He did, in fact, want one. 

 

He took the coffee, sat down at my kitchen table and started chatting.  Oh, sir?  When I offered the coffee I thought maybe it would give you a high and speed you up.  I didn’t want to be girlfriends.  I’m really sorry that you have high blood pressure and your wife has stomach issues.  Perhaps you should go tell these things to my computer as you CONTINUE HOOKING UP MY INTERNET!

Well after coffee time of course comes potty break.  He asked to use my bathroom.  Just as he shut the door Carter came strolling by and apparently noticed that he didn’t turn on the light.  So naturally…he opened the door.  Yup, he opened the bathroom door on the cable guy.

“Did you want the light on?”

Jesus Christ! I’m sure he’d rather have the door closed!   

After that totally comfortable and not at all awkward moment I decided to give the boys a bath; that way at least they would be in one place and kept away from that poor man.  It was not one of my best ideas…because after a bath you simply must do naked laps around the total stranger in your living room.  Obviously.

We were getting really, really close to wrapping this up, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  He just had to explain how everything worked:

“So, this button controls the DVR and then if you push this one…”

“MOM!  I’m done!  I did a lot of poop.”

“Ah…excuse me, my son has apparently done a lot of poop.  I’ll be right back.”

At this point I didn’t give one flying shit about how the remote worked.  I was certain that I could figure it out.  My problem now was figuring out how to get this guy the hell out of my house.

He finished setting up the upstairs box and told me I was all set.  At which point I expect him to exit the premises.  But instead he said:

“I’m just trying to compose myself for a minute.”

Um…what?  Are you really that upset to have to leave the barking dog, screaming naked voyeur children household? 

Well, turns out he was upset because his daughter had gotten a bad report card.  She’s in high school. She used to get all As and Bs in fifth grade.  Wanna hear about her performance in middle school?  Cause I know all about that too.

I probably should have taken the “Hey! Tell me all your problems!” sign off my forehead before this experience.  I’ll know for next time…