I was certain that we needed a new cable receiver, since the screen had been freezing up regularly. But replacing it meant losing all our saved programs, so I’d been procrastinating for months. I’d planned to binge watch this week all my saved Ken Burns documentaries, since I’m recovering from a nasty cold and can’t do much else. Still foggy this morning and home alone for the day, for some reason I decided to finally call DirecTV and just get it over with, figuring I could get through my shows before a new receiver arrived.
I called on our land line (yes, we still have one) and
connected with a very nice woman. Despite my stuffy ears, her Indian accent,
and our sketchy phone, I managed to communicate the problem. She checked our
account and said we have the latest receiver, so that wasn’t the problem. She
directed me to go downstairs and turn on the TV. On cue, the screen froze up
for several seconds.
We have a new diagnostic system, she explained, and said it
required a smart phone so she could see the TV screen in real time. She waited
while I retrieved my iPhone and the code she sent. So now I’m juggling our old
telephone, the TV’s remote, and my iPhone, which connected as she instructed. Picture
three electronics, but only two hands.
That’s when I realized that we were essentially doing a
FaceTime call. I fumbled to get my iPhone aimed in the right direction. I
swung it around and can’t say for sure where it got pointed. The problem was
that I was doing all this buck naked.
Later, I explained and apologized for “if I grossed you out,”
but she seemed nonplussed and didn’t even respond.
It appears that we did get the TV’s problem fixed, by simply
resetting the receiver, something I could have done myself without all that R-rated
exposure. And that’s how my day started.
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