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Humor
Bev Potter And The Tree Of Doom
Another story in the long saga of my battle against nature.
Clearly, the tree was evil.
It was located in the corner of my neighbor’s horse pasture and one branch was hooked around the wire connecting the phone line at the street to my house. “That can’t be good,” I thought.
And so the obsession began.
Eventually, that wire would snap. Maybe not this week. Maybe not this month. Maybe not this year. Maybe not next year. Maybe not this century.
But eventually, it would snap. And then I… I… (I can barely utter the words)… I would have no internet.
I enlisted the boyfriend in my war against the tree. Yes, I did call Frontier, since it’s their phone line and all, and I thought they’d be interested in averting a future outage and all the man hours and inconvenience that would entail.
Silly me.
“It’s your neighbor’s tree,” the guy said, having actually shown up as a result of the customer service rep in Bangalore mistakenly putting in a ticket that I had no internet despite my having explained at least eight times that I needed a tree crew. Maybe “tree crew” is how you say “internet” in India.
