Cable: (n) an insulated wire
The first time I rented a home and decided to sign up for cable television, I was in awe of the whole process. When the cable man came–three days after his promised arrival–and brought all the boxes, all the instructions and all the drills to do his work, it had the feeling of God arriving to create the universe.
I was infatuated.
I was over-complimentary.
I was perplexed.
I listened carefully and then took notes to make sure that when the magic man departed my home, I would be able to access the universe of channels on my own.
But when he left, it suddenly stopped working.
I tried to remember what he had done, fooled around with it a little, but quickly became convinced that I was a four-year-old in a hospital operating room.
As time passed I became more and more enraged that this mysterious system I had ordered was failing to meet my entertainment needs. So I called the local cable operator and they immediately sent someone over. Two days later.
By that time I had built up a good head of steam and was prepared to ram my emotional freight train into the hapless technician. I ferociously explained how they had cheated me and how they had wasted my time. The young man was rather nice.
He asked me a simple question. “Did you move the TV after the guy left?”
Actually, yes. It was a little distant from the wall, and I had pushed it back. I retorted, “What?? I’m not allowed to move my TV?”
“Sure,” the repairman replied calmly. “But when you did, you knocked the cable loose.”
He reached down and with too much ease, restored my world of wonder.
I was embarrassed. I tried to duplicate in apologies what I had spewed forth in fury.
The repairman smiled and said to me, “Just remember–it usually isn’t something difficult. Just a loose cable.”