My Hilarious (and Slightly Rusty) Quest for a Landline in 2024
Today, I embarked on a time-travel adventure, not in a DeLorean, but through the mystical, almost forgotten realm of... landline installation. Yes, you read that right. In an era where even my refrigerator is smarter than I am, I decided to go analog. Why, you ask? Because when the power goes out in my neighborhood, cell service (T-Mobile) goes with it, I figured it's good to have a backup that doesn't rely on magic (or electricity) to work.
So, here's the scoop: Installing a landline in 2024 feels like archaeology. First off, it's not cheap. We're talking almost $40 a month to ensure that I can call for pizza delivery during a blackout. My wife? She's having a field day, laughing her butt off, convinced I've finally lost it, yearning for the good ol' days I barely remember.
But wait, it gets better. The technician, a kind soul navigating the ancient ruins of our building, discovered that the wires hadn't seen the light of day since the 70s. We're talking corroded, frail, and probably cursed. Finding the electrical room turned into a side quest of its own. When we finally located it, the door was rusted shut, a testament to decades of neglect and possibly a sign that we were the first souls to disturb its slumber in years.
Despite the challenges (and my wife's endless teasing), we now have a landline. It's like owning a piece of history, a relic from a time when phones were tethered to the wall, and conversations were bound by the length of the cord.
Today, I embarked on a time-travel adventure, not in a DeLorean, but through the mystical, almost forgotten realm of... landline installation. Yes, you read that right. In an era where even my refrigerator is smarter than I am, I decided to go analog. Why, you ask? Because when the power goes out in my neighborhood, cell service (T-Mobile) goes with it, I figured it's good to have a backup that doesn't rely on magic (or electricity) to work.
So, here's the scoop: Installing a landline in 2024 feels like archaeology. First off, it's not cheap. We're talking almost $40 a month to ensure that I can call for pizza delivery during a blackout. My wife? She's having a field day, laughing her butt off, convinced I've finally lost it, yearning for the good ol' days I barely remember.
But wait, it gets better. The technician, a kind soul navigating the ancient ruins of our building, discovered that the wires hadn't seen the light of day since the 70s. We're talking corroded, frail, and probably cursed. Finding the electrical room turned into a side quest of its own. When we finally located it, the door was rusted shut, a testament to decades of neglect and possibly a sign that we were the first souls to disturb its slumber in years.
Despite the challenges (and my wife's endless teasing), we now have a landline. It's like owning a piece of history, a relic from a time when phones were tethered to the wall, and conversations were bound by the length of the cord.