Another week has
passed
Since I have been
on here complaining about my internet, nothing has changed, it still sucks
money. My service has gone from poor to worse prompting me to call corporate
headquarters to troubleshoot my problems. This is in Albuquerque, New Mexico,
and my call was answered by a nice amiable young lady who went through the
motions of trying to assess my problems here in Ohio. Assuring I had paid my
bill and I was owed considerable amount of gigs, and that at this rate I would
never use in a month. She assured me that their crack staff of engineers would
get right on my problem, and in as quick as 3 days I should have my service
restored to its full working potential. I will say something for her as she
functions quite well as compared to me at this early hour of the morning I had
called her. It was 10 here so it should have been around 7 am. She was pretty
perky for that hour and had all her lies down pat.
Well I doubt if
anything is going to get done Sunday unless they pay overtime and I doubt they
will for just me. Only thing I could hope for was that we have a mass outage
and then maybe something will have to be done sooner. I love company when I am
having internet misery. We all need to be non-functional if I am. So instead of
today I can just imagine this scenario playing out tomorrow morning. Joe the
tower climber is directed to my cell tower. Joe or Camel Joe as we shall call
him is a three pack a day hard core smoker actually named Carl but all his
coworkers just call him Joe. Well Joe hauls
his ass out to his rusted Chevy pickup with the ladder rack over his cap on his
extended bed s-1500 Chevy. He lights her up, that is both the pickup and a
cigarette and heads south dropping off Rt. 44 onto a snow covered access road
leading up to the cell tower on the hill. Joe’s 280 lb. body has a hard time
getting out of the old Chevy, slamming the door and watching the rust fall out
from under the door frame as it slams shut. Joe reaches down under his mushroom
top figure and fumbles about his waist in the sharp cold air. His fingers
clumsily searching for his key ring, and finding it attached to his recoil
chain and drags the keys ring, and chain completely out past his gut and up to
his face where he stares at the keys searching for the right one to unlock the
gate. He finds it and by now he is breathing hard and grunting his way through
the drudgery of opening the gate.
Safely back inside
the pickup and he lights another cigarette. Kicks it in 4 wd. And starts up the
snow covered road to the top of the hill. It looked as if no one had been in
there in weeks, and Joe says to himself, ‘It figures I get this job. I get to break this thing open with my truck
and if I get stuck then oh well.’ Oh Hell, he thought, it is work.
In this weather he will take what he can get.
Besides he doesn’t have to worry about anyone coming by to bother him at least
until they see if he makes it out. Old Joe pushed the old Chevy pretty hard throwing
snow up over the ladder racks at times as Joe could see from his rear view
mirrors. Well Joe thought as he pulled up to the tower on the hill. At least I
made it up here that is half the battle he thought. As again he grunted his way
out the pickup door and again fumbled for his keys and found the one that
unlocked the security gate. The wind was a little bit more obvious up here
biting at Joe’s fingers and his bare hands until his fingers became numb. Joe
returned to the pickup and dug under the Mc Donald’s empty bags and empty
quarter ponder boxes till he found first one glove and then the other, immersed
in a half drank cup of Mc Coffee, wetting
a couple of fingers of the glove of one hand. Joe still pulled them on and
except the wetness of a couple of fingers. They brought instant warmth to all
areas of his hand except for the hole he had burned where his cigarette had
become too short, eventually burning his fingers. This reminded Joe to light up
another one and again he had the keys in one hand and juggling a cigarette in
another and finally he gets the gate opened. He walks in further and unlocks
the door to the control room and steps inside as if he is stepping onto the
bridge of the Starship Enterprise, with lights flashing green, yellow, and red,
indicating functions of the cell tower. Gauges and dials and an overhead light snap
on automatically as he enters further, and a low hum from the electronics panel
could be heard.
Joe logs in to
his work sheet marking technician Carl Wisen under one category, then under other headings he needed to enter time
and also why he was there, and his badge number. He accessed the computer with
his security code and rubbed his nose on his sleeve eliminating the wetness
that had coated his moustache. He drew long and hard on the cigarette again
almost burning his fingers, cussing under his breath as he throws it on the
floor. He punches in this guy Kevin Davis’ cell coordinates, and sees he is
picking up signals off dish 3 hung on the south side of the tower. He does diagnostics
on his phone number hoping that he wouldn’t have to climb the tower and repoint
the dish. Joe not able to get a good signal said ‘damn’, under his breath as he
realizes he is going to have to climb the tower. Oh well back outside into the
sun and the brisk air, as Joe unleashes the ladder off the back of his truck
and reaches into his tool box and grabs a pipe wrench and as he looks at it
decides that should be good enough, and he straps it to his tool belt . He
grabs another pack of cigarettes and an extra lighter, and huffs and puffs his
way through the foot deep snow carrying the ladder to the base of the 365 foot
tower and leans the ladder up against it, as he looks up it. He adjusts the
base and extends the ladder to the man cage.
He does a mental
double check to see if he forgot anything. He had cigs and an extra lighter,
pipe wrench, and cell phone in case he needed help. It would suck to get
halfway up a cell tower and need to call for help and not have a cell phone. He
had also stashed a small flask of bourbon inside his coverall pocket for
moments like this. He promised himself he would not imbibe any till he reached
the top and was coming down. Work first, play later, Joe thought. Joe started to
pick his 280 lb. body up and up till he slipped into the man cage on the side
of the tower and was locked in on a safety line and then he began climbing.
After fifty feet he would take a break and grab a cig and look out over the
countryside as the views were getting better. He looked out and wondered where
that peckerhead lived at, that made him climb this tower in the cold. Joes
finger’s had begun to freeze where they were soaked in the Mc Coffee, he would
stop momentarily shoving his cold hand under his belly against his skin to warm
it , and then he moved on and soon he was up to the 180 ft. mark and he knew he
was almost halfway. He was breathing hard and fast, and needed a rest. The fingers
on one hand were numb and a rest awaited him where he could stand on a platform
at the 200 ft. level.
The wind had
picked up as he climbed higher , Joe didn’t seem to notice as he was starting
to sweat as he dragged a pack of cigarettes out and fumbled one to his mouth as
he searched his pockets for the lighter and bent low to light it and soon had
it cherry red as his lungs somewhat refreshed with oxygen he had pumping
through his veins. He sucked hard on that cig until in about 3 puffs he had
finished and tossed it overboard watching it fall, the embers glowed till they were out of sight.
Joe stood and reflected on his job as he watched the cig disappear knowing one
misstep and soon he would be another big butt going over the side, and as
gravity pulls him to the ground he will have to remember all the words to the Lord’s
prayer and say it in a few seconds just in case there is a Heaven and a Hell
and a little prayer might not hurt at this time, especially if you know you
were going to die. This could only happen if he unhooked his safety line at the
wrong time. Joe tried to avoid even thinking about falling the whole time he
was up there. Below his breath, he mutters, I only hope you are satisfied with
your service Mr. Davis rather sarcastically and proceeds to head on up the
tower and to even more demanding sights.
250 and then three
hundred feet, his pulse was racing as he neared the top of the tower and dish 3
came slowly into sight as the wind had started to take its toll and he found
himself freezing a little more all the time, until all his extremities and even
his exposed ass crack had now begun to freeze. The view was breathtaking and
the tower would sway gently in the breeze sometimes moving as much as three feet
in one direction and the wind would ebb, as the tower would drift back to its
starting point. The tower was much narrower up here and there was foot pegs
instead of ladder rungs and the cage was nonexistent at this height where you
needed it most. He still had his life line tied in and he was only a few feet
from the dish. He could see the dish and some of the problem as it usually is
at this time of the year. It was ice covered as well everything was or had once
been at this level. He was within striking distance of the dish, and at that he
reaches down under his belly bulge, and on his tool belt and grabs the pipe
wrench and brings it up and takes aim while holding onto to the tower with a
death grip and lets loose with the wrench and slams the dish breaking the ice
and scattering it all over him as the ice tumbles towards the ground.
The climbing and the tool belt had pulled Joe’s pants down as
he climbed exposing more and more ass crack and when the ice was falling a
sharp piece cleverly wedged itself into his ass crack and caused Joe to shudder
a cold shudder he had never felt before as he muttered to himself while holding
onto the swaying tower. I hope you are satisfied now Mr. Kevin Davis sir. Thank
you for your fucking business. Joe’s heart always skips a beat when he has to
do this and after he regained his composure and let himself down to the 300 foot mark he started to breathe again,
at that he reached behind him and inserted his finger in his gaping crack and
was assured from the wetness that his body fat had melted the ice. He then pulled out the flask and his cell phone
to access the tower’s computer to check the lost connection. Yes the bastard’s
getting 4G again, Joe thought, my job is done. This as he sucked hard on the
flask of bourbon to calm his nerves down and to warm himself up again, this and
couple of camels, and a few more nips
encouraged Joe to ascend even faster and soon Joe was back on the ground and
loading up his ladder on the truck .
He stepped back inside
the cell towers control room and punched up the computer and started watching
porn movies of Debbie does Dallas until he had drained most of his flask and
smoked nearly all his cigarettes. He logged out on the time sheet and locked
the tower up and climbed in his cold truck and waited for it to warm as he
looked around. He cranked up some music and was soon was 4 wheeling back down
the hill to the gate. He fumbled in the cold looking for his keys and found
them and locked the gate and was soon headed to the bar. Thinking to himself I
hope you are satisfied now Mr. Kevin Davis almighty sir.
To me this would
be T-mobiles crack team of engineers restoring my service as I would understand
it to be. I doubt for 80 dollars a month I am going to get much more then Joe. Or
Carl or whatever his name is. All I really care is that they fix the damn
thing.
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