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From The Nethermost
Dish Network recently announced that we would be able to get local channels -meaning Mobile - for an extra $5 a month. Furthermore, we soon will not be able to get NYC TV. Surely, this will be good. All I had to do was call 1-800-888 DISH ... or some such number. The woman who answered was not from Mobile, or Birmingham for that matter. Never mind. She'd sign me up. She did ask if my dish had two eyes. I was puzzled. How would I know? She replied that I could look at the dish to find out. I laughed and told her that the dish was on the roof of my house. She said some things at a pretty fast clip which I did not understand. I said, "What?" She responded slowly that I should have the local channels in about 20 minutes. I went back to check the television after about a half hour. No change. So I called again. I should tell you that you have to listen to about four minutes of stuff and make about five choices of buttons to touch. Or, was it push? Some guy answered. He said his name. I said "What" He said it again. Well, I would guess he was from India and I know about out-sourcing so I said never mind that. "Where are the new, local channels?" He worked for a while, asked me technical questions, and suggested I climb on my roof to look at the dish. I told him that at 70 years of age, I was not allowed to climb on the top of tall buildings. I think he laughed. The upshot was that he said for me to wait 20 minutes longer. I told him that I would wait until noon ... an hour from the time we talked. At noon, I listened to all that again, punched all the buttons they asked me to touch, and punched a few more just because I felt like it. The recording of a man talking came on the phone. He told me that the call was being monitored for ... I don't remember ... something. It surely was not because they wanted to monitor that music. Surely not. I promise-if it took the next guy so long to come on the phone because he was taking the cotton out of his ears so that he would not have to hear that music, I forgive him. Anyway, he told me his name. "Say it again." He did. I asked him to spell it. "Presley," he replied slowly."You know, like Elvis Presley!" I couldn't help it. I just started laughing. Then, he did too. He was a nice young man from India. But, neither of us was named for Elvis Presley. He asked me about the dish on the roof. I had to tell Mr. Presley, as I had the others, that since I was 70 years old, I was not allowed to climb on the roof of the house. As a result, he had me hit some more buttons on the receiver. Finally, he announced that my dish needed to be upgraded. "Good. How much?" "There will be no charge." "Really?" "Yes, sir." "Who arranges this?" "We can send someone there between eight and twelve tomorrow morning." "Really?" "Yes, sir. Will you be home?" I promised to be home. The new dish comes with a warranty for five years. Funny, don't you think? If it goes bad what are they going to give me back? My old dish that might get me news from NYC? And, you know: I don't think they can get someone over here from India that fast. I should be cutting grass down in the Nethermost tomorrow morning, getting ready for all the family who will be here Thanksgiving. I guess I will hang around the house waiting to meet Elvis Presley, or his cousin.
Jim Herod is a retired college professor living on the southside of Grove Hill.
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