Every now and then, I’ve noticed, it’s necessary to talk to Computer People on the telephone, and that is when you notice what a different breed of human you are from folks who are actually gainfully employed in the technology industry.

Today, for instance, I discovered that my Internet connection just kept flickering on and off. I would attempt to send someone an email, the the computer would just say: NO.

I would try again and it would say okay. Then, in the middle of sending, it would change its mind and stop again.

Now. I could have taken this as a sign from the gods that I am supposed to be continuing my actual work (e.g., the novel) which does not by any stretch of the imagination require the services of the Internet or email.

But instead–I don’t know why–I decided it might be fun to get to the bottom of the whole problem. After only a few presses of the phone buttons, #1 for English and #2 for Real Live Human Being, there I was with a person who wanted to know my phone number and whether I had a Mac or PC.

“PC,” I said. This was easy.

“Do you have a routmodreguehsjgfhtk or a modem?”

“A…modem? I don’t really know what that other thing is. But it’s wireless, if that helps.”

“Ohhhhhkay then. Go the main menu and press the buthgusfhrejheejrhr and tell me which of the boxes has a check that says rhfkthecktskrksl.”

I stared at the screen. “All the boxes are unchecked.”

Deep sigh. “Well, go theskrrpotkshfk.”

“I, uh, don’t know what  you’re asking me to do. Could you say it again?”

“Go theskrrpotkshfk.”

I feel the hysteria rising in me. I am afraid I will soon start laughing out loud.

“Miss, WILL YOU TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER IMMEDIATELY?”

I turned it off, fearing the worst. It took forever, as it always does. I apologized. “I had a lot of programs running, sorry,” I said.

“That’s fine.”

“Do you spend your whole day waiting for people’s computers to turn off and then back on?”

“Miss, some days I do.”

We wait and wait. My computer at last turns off.

He says, “Okay, go stand by the router.”

“Okay.” The router is in the other room. At least I think it’s the router. It’s something that every now and then Comcast likes me to go and pull all the wires out of the wall, wait for 30 silent seconds, and then plug it all back in again. It’s our usual little dance together.

I say, “I am now going to my router.,” and he YELLS at me, actually yells.

‘DON’T GO TO THE ROUTER! I AM GOING TO THEDKSKRROUTER AT MY END!”

And then comes seven minutes of the most unearthly noise I have ever heard. Kind of a low-grade hissing andf buzzing and screaming.

I wait. I brush the dog. I make a pot of tea. I wonder if I could put this guy on hold and call  my mom. Then I start to wonder if this is the sound of the dial tone in India, perhaps, and that he has gone away.

Then, when I am just about to give up, the noise stops and he says, mysteriously, “Okay. You go have a nice dayfhfhshjtltr. Thank you for calling.”

And…well, the Internet worked!