Thread:
A new meaning for the phrase 'world wide wait'.
usatoday.com
DSL stands for doesn't seem likely
By Edward C. Baig, USA TODAY
Judging by the numerous DSL solicitations
populating my mailbox recently, you'd think
lightning-fast Internet access was breaking out all
over my Manhattan neighborhood. "Finally,
Broadband is Here!" proclaims Juno Express.
"Internet access up to 100 times faster!" boasts
Flashcom. "Act now. The World Wide Wait is
over!" declares Telocity.
I'm still waiting. DSL is supposed to stand for
"digital subscriber line," a speedy, always-on Net
connection that operates over ordinary telephone
lines. In my experience, "digital slow lane" or
"delayed so long" might be more descriptive.
After months of frustration trying to get DSL, I've
concluded broadband is a pipe dream.
I've been so frustrated that I've kept a diary of
my problems — missed appointments, obscure
technical troubles, even landlord problems. As a
case in point as to why the broadband revolution
is rolling out more slowly than a Web page at
28.8, I though I'd share the highlights:
April 21. I choose MindSpring's Max DSL service after mulling various
alternatives. MindSpring promises downloads of 1.5 megabits a second —
in another league entirely from my 56K modem. I already know I live in a
DSL-ready ZIP code; you must reside within a reasonable proximity of a
phone company's central office. Max DSL costs $50 a month, installation is
free, and it doesn't bother me that MindSpring is merging with Earthlink,
another Net access provider.
The guy who takes my order says it will take four to
six weeks to get the service up and running. Not
exactly swift, I figure, but the chief competitor is not
an option: Time Warner's Road Runner cable
modem service isn't slated to hit my 'hood until
September.
April 24. An e-mail welcomes me to
Earthlink/MindSpring and lays out what's in store.
There will be two installation appointments, and
there are actually three companies involved with the
service. On the first visit, a technician from my local
phone company, Bell Atlantic, must work on the
"Network Interface Device." MindSpring's DSL
partner, Covad Communications, will alert me of the
date of this "all-day" appointment but can't confirm a
time when the workers will show. Assuming that all goes well, Covad will
come to my place three to seven business days later to run wiring and install
the necessary hardware and software.
I read on. "Covad experience has shown that Bell Atlantic has a 'no-show'
rate as high as 50% on their installation appointments. We do think it's
important for you to know of this potential problem prior to signing up for
the service." This cannot be good.
April 29. Wouldn't you know, I get word that Covad — or Bell
Atlantic?— is scheduled to show up on May 5, sooner than expected. I
have other commitments and must reschedule.
May 5. I'm informed by e-mail that a Covad service appointment has
been set for between 8 a.m. and noon May 10.
May 8. Another e-mail states that Covad was not able to successfully
connect me to the network because of "client no-show." Excuse me —
didn't they get word that the May 5 appointment was postponed?
May 9. A day of conflicting e-mails. I'm told that a Covad DSL service
appointment has been scheduled for May 10, now between noon and 5
p.m. The discrepancy from the earlier appointment becomes moot a couple
of hours later; another e-mail tells me the appointment on May 10 has been
postponed because of a "loop delivery problem."
May 19. I get a phone company delivery date — May 25.
May 24. My Covad DSL installation appointment is rescheduled for June
2. At the same time, my Bell Atlantic appointment is changed to May 26.
May 26. Despite the initial MindSpring warning, the Bell Atlantic rep
actually turns up as promised. He finds an appropriate phone line in a front
hallway closet. But the connector or some such has been plastered over, he
says. He goes to the phone box in the basement of my building and runs a
wire up to a box adjacent to a service elevator across the hall from my
apartment. It's the best he can do, he says. The rest is up to Covad. The
Covad appointment, in the meantime, is changed to June 9.
June 7 and 8. I get four e-mails telling me that my appointment has been
rescheduled — rescheduled? — for June 9 between noon and 5. The
company wants to make sure I'll be home. I will be.
June 9. I can almost taste it now. This is the day ... or maybe not. As of
4:08 p.m. the company still hasn't arrived. I'm concerned because I was told
to allow at least a couple of hours for the installation. I call MindSpring, am
put on hold and lose the connection. I try again and reach a customer
service rep, who tells me the technicians are probably running behind, but
not to worry. "They'll definitely be there," she tells me. I cancel a
late-afternoon dentist appointment.
At 5:12, the technician is still AWOL. I call MindSpring back. A customer
service rep puts me on hold for about 20 minutes. She reports back — a
screw-up. The technicians got confused, and the guy who had the network
card I needed was out in Queens somewhere and wouldn't be able to make
the trek back into Manhattan. I threaten to cancel my order. I hold off. The
appointment is later rescheduled to June 23.
June 13. Though I still don't have DSL, I learn that my credit card has
been charged for a month of service. I call customer service to have the
charge removed.
June 19. Once again, an e-mail tells me my appointment is rescheduled
— to a date that is already on my calendar. Am I in the Twilight Zone?
June 23. Covad shows up as scheduled. The fellow tests the box Bell
Atlantic set up in the hallway and reports back that it's "not a clean line." He
feeds me some gobbledygook about how there is "a significant amount of
voltage" on the line. "They're killing us," he says of Bell Atlantic. Bottom line:
Bell Atlantic must repair the line before Covad can do its thing. He leaves a
DSL modem behind in a box. An e-mail arrives later. "Problem
encountered: Loop no continuity. Next actions: We will open a trouble
ticket with the phone company and update you on the status."
June 28. I haven't been kept in the loop on anything. While I'm working at
home, Covad calls. I'm on the schedule today, not that anyone bothered
telling me. I invite the technician to come by. He examines the line that has
been plastered over in the closet and inspects the box in the hallway. He
says he can test the line again, and if it has been fixed, he'll run a wire into
my apartment. We don't get that far. My superintendent rings my doorbell.
This guy isn't authorized to do anything, he tells me, without written
permission from the landlord.
July 11. No DSL yet, but my credit card is charged again for service. I
request credit.
July 14 through Aug. 21. At my landlord's request, I fax a letter asking
for written authorization to allow Covad to bring the DSL line into the
apartment. Days go by without word. I call. And call again. When I finally
get various underlings to take my call, I hear all kinds of excuses. The
management company is investigating other ways of providing high-speed
Internet access for its properties, or it is reluctant to approve a second
phone line because of fears about illegal subletting. This is Manhattan, after
all.
Aug. 18. Finally, the man himself picks up the phone. My landlord says
he'll draw up a permission letter or sign and return my initial fax, which I
have by now submitted three times. (Hours earlier, Covad called to confirm
my installation appointment for that morning, even though I had asked
customer service not to schedule anything yet. I told them not to come.)
Later that day, I am on the phone to MindSpring, asking for the removal of
another credit-card charge.
Aug. 22. As of the close of business, I still have not received the promised
written approval from the landlord. I am tired. Vacation looms. DSL be
damned.
I peek at the calendar. It's nearly September. Is there a Road Runner in my
future? Stay tuned.
Edward C. Baig covers technology for USA TODAY. |
