An Open Letter To The Cable Guy, From That Lady With The Kids And No Bra
First off, allow me to apologize for answering the door without a bra on. I don’t know what your usual day consists of but seeing my sweet chariots swinging low under a set of old sorority letter may have ruined certain websites for you forever, and for that I’m sorry.
I knew you were coming, but in my defense it’s been my experience that cable guys never actually come at the start of the four hour service window, so you caught me off guard.
But I did slap on a sports bra once I knew you were in the house and I offered you a cup of my precious coffee, so really, was the eyeroll when I asked if our package included Bravo necessary? It’s a perfectly legitimate question, and one I still maintain you should know the answer to given your line of work. From the looks of those face pubes you’ve got going on, I bet you would have known the answer if I asked about Spike.
I could tell that you weren’t comfortable around my toddlers, and I know their request to sing them the ABCs was asking too much, and that interacting with the kids of customers isn’t technically part of your job description. But seriously, what kind of a monster doesn’t answer a play phone when it’s handed to you by a child?
I thought our tenuous acquaintanceship had blossomed into something beautiful when I turned the kids into hostages via their high chairs in order to come down into the basement and show you where the modem was. You pretended you didn’t see me trip down that last step, I pretend you weren’t an idiot for not seeing the giant blinking tower next to the television where every other modem is in every house, always. We both didn’t comment on the fact that neither of us were brave enough to try and confront that giant spider guarding the remote control. TVs still have buttons for a reason, and I think we proved what that reason is. It felt like we shared a moment.
Until you were ready to leave. You asked if I wanted to set up the account email, and I said yes and then you gave me the website and left, but not before telling me to have my husband call if he had any questions. I lashed out at you for assuming I couldn’t handle something as complicated as a cable set up. I know you said you worded it that way just because he wasn’t there for the installation, and I apologized for getting a bit heated, but I could tell things were strained between us.
But now it’s two weeks later and even my husband agrees that the cable isn’t working correctly.Â Disney Junior is freezing, leaving my kids in tears at the idea that Mickey and the gang may never find the right Mouskatool for the job, and apparently not even God himself can help the Duggars stream an entire episode on TLC. PBS seems fine most of the time, but a person can only take so much Daniel Tiger before they start to go a little loopy. So please, will you come back? I promise to keep the children bribed with chocolate and away from you and won’t assume you are a misogynist. I’ll even wear properly supportive upper torso attire.