My landline phone has been out for a week and I’ve been snared in Verizon’s nightmarish phone tree system and unresponsive, evasive and indifferent bureaucracy. When I get caught in Customer Service, I always vow to keep my humanity, and it got rocky. I was considering tell one of the many people who put me on hold that I was terminally ill and needed a phone. That works I’m told but I felt too guilty about the people who are terminally ill. What if service to me left one of them stranded?

But I was angry and frustrated. I couldn’t reach any human on the phone most of the time, the online service they kept steering me too didn’t work, and I needed the phone for work.  Five days in a row I was promised a repair person and noone showed up any of those days. I went out to take photos and I saw a Verizon truck working on a roadside switching box. I pulled over. I told him my story. First, he gave me his cell number, which astonished me. He said he was an advocate for Verizon users, and he and a number of workers – he said the company was getting rid of their full-time staff in favor of part-time people who wouldn’t get benefits. He got into his truck and drove to the bottom of my road and told me to go home and wait for him to call. He had other techs he could call, he said.

He called 15 minutes later. A cable connecting my road to a switching box had shorted out. He fixed it. If I had any further troubles, call him at home, he said. Nobody could ever reach the company, and he couldn’t stand seeing customers get screwed. I drove down to find him and gave him a book and some notecards. I reminded myself that humanity is a powerful force, and there are always human beings who want to help each other. And I put his number in my cell. He is a guerrilla fighting for people in the Corporate Nation.

My phone worked. Two hours later, I got a tape recorded message at home from Verizon, saying their records showed my phone had been repaired, and “we are committed to providing you the very best service.” Thanks for helping remind me that humanity lives.

Working on Bedlam Farm Diary, Vol. 2, about the Rouse farm. Eight minutes long, which is too long.