A mostly safe for work comic by Jodi Wegner.
You’ve been disconnected, the screen read.
Sarah read it again. And again.
She typed in her username and password and clicked on the connect button.
Connecting…
Sarah held her breath as she waited.
Could not connect to server.
She tried again.
Could not connect to server.
She slammed her fist on her desk and swore. Closing the game, she opened her web browser to check her internet connection. Google popped up on the screen as it should. Internet was fine.
Sarah’s eyes watered, but she resisted the urge to cry. She’d had enough with tears for the day. Besides, it wouldn’t help her get back into the game. She typed the words “can’t connect Legends of Fire” into her search bar.
She got several hits and glanced over them. The first one appeared to be the official Legends of Fire tech support site. She decided to skip that one for the moment and check some of the forums listed afterwards. She might be able to see what other players were saying about this issue, and whether or not anyone else was having the same problem.
Opening up the forums, she read through several of the threads. Connection issues such as Sarah was experiencing seemed to be a common problem, and happened for a variety of reasons. Sarah couldn’t find any recent posts, so the problem she was experiencing seemed to be localized to her computer, and not a worldwide problem. All of the official responses from forum moderators directed users to the Legends of Fire tech support page. Even most of the users directed others to the “official” page. Many of these users praised the tech support provided, and encouraged others to visit the site. Sarah decided to visit the site and see what all the fuss was about.
Scanning over the page, Sarah noticed two options. There was a number to call technical support. The thought of dealing with a person over the phone tied Sarah’s stomach into several knots simultaneously. Her forehead sweat, and she wanted to vomit.
Ok, plan B. The second option allowed her to go to the online Legends of Fire troubleshooter and knowledge base. She quickly selected it.
A window popped up. This feature is for advanced users. We highly recommend that you call our technical support representatives for assistance. Do you still want to continue?
Advanced users, huh? Sarah thought. She wasn’t sure she really qualified as an advanced user. She’d had no formal training.
Not that she didn’t have more than a passing knowledge of computers. Her dad bought her first computer when she was twelve years old. She’d been painfully shy growing up—never making any friends her age. She’d go to school, keep her head down, do her work, and go home to her room. She couldn’t seem to learn the sort of social skills that enabled her to talk to others. Her father showed her how to use the computer to play games, and how to interact with other people online.
She took to it right away. It helped to interact with people in that medium. She felt so much less pressure, and it worked. It helped Sarah develop a few social skills that enabled her to get by in the real world. Some of the happiest moments in Sarah’s life were in the computer lab in high school, hanging out with her twin brother and his best friend Kevin. But that was before they had gone into the army together. Before Afghanistan. When her brother didn’t come home, part of Sarah died inside.
Sarah continued to use computers. Regardless of the painful memories associated with them, they continued to be a useful tool for her social skills. However, she never pursued a career in that field because she could never get past the idea of the computer as a toy.
Sarah clicked yes on the window. She may not be an expert on the computer, but she did know a few tricks. If the online troubleshooter and knowledge base turned out to be too difficult—well she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.
Could not connect to server.
Sarah threw her arms up in frustration. After hours of trying and retrying tricks from the knowledge base, she still couldn’t connect to the game. She’d tried everything from checking all of her cables to clearing out files in the Legends of Fire program files folder to checking her computer for conflicts with other programs running in the background.
Staring at the screen for what seemed like at least ten minutes, Sarah’s eyes watered up. She sighed loudly as she grabbed for her phone. What was that number again?
After five minutes of navigating through an aggravating phone tree, she finally was told that she’d be placed on hold to speak to a tech support representative. The annoying elevator music confirmed it.
Suddenly the music stopped.
“Wait time for a technical support representative is forty-five minutes. We thank you for your patience as we get to you as quickly as possible.”
The music resumed.
Sarah groaned. Placing her phone on the table, she reached into her desk and pulled out her Bluetooth headset. She placed it in her ear and turned it on. Her ears were once again filled with the sound of elevator music. She turned down the volume enough that she could hear a change, but keep herself sane listening to it.
She walked into the kitchen and rooted through the refrigerator. She pulled out a prepackaged burrito and placed it in the microwave. Setting the timer for a minute and a half, she waited for it to finish cooking. Afterwards, she took her meal to the table and ate it.
She checked her watch once she finished. She sighed. It’d only taken ten minutes.
Sarah tapped her foot on the floor. The wait intensified her anxiety. She opened up her desk drawer while she waited. As she went through the various odds and ends within the desk, a photograph fell to the floor. She put her hand to her mouth as she saw it. She picked it up and looked it over, her eyes watering. She stood next to Kevin in the picture. She must have been sixteen—him a year older.
Kevin was probably the closest thing Sarah had ever had to having a boyfriend. She remembered a tender moment with Kevin in the computer lab one day. She used to wear large hoop earrings, and he delicately ran his fingers along the earrings—making them sway slightly. She shared so many moments like that with him. Like the times he’d walk her home from school. They’d talk about so many subjects. Sarah was never quite as shy around him as she was with others.
It all came to a crashing halt after the night of the Party. She trembled at memories too painful to relive. She’d been so embarrassed by what happened that she couldn’t tell her parents. She never told Kevin, either. The only soul in the world she’d told had been her brother.
That had been a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life. Her brother took matters into his own hands, and the result was his expulsion. No graduation, no college, no future. His only option at that point was to enlist. Kevin went with him, of course. They’d been inseparable.
Sarah wished she’d never said anything to him. If she’d just kept her mouth shut and kept the pain inside, her brother…he might still be alive. Maybe even her parents.
The tears flowed silently now from her eyes. And it was at that moment when the music stopped.
“Legends of Fire technical support. How many I help you today?”
“Excuse me a moment,” Sarah sobbed. She grasped a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She paused. “Let’s start over. I got disconnected from your game, and I can’t seem to reconnect.”
“Describe what happened.”
Sarah went over the story of what happened.
“Ok, I can totally help you with that. Now first, we need to make sure that all of your cables are connected properly. Go to the back of your computer…”
“But I’ve already DONE that.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but these are standard procedures that we need to eliminate before we can begin any troubleshooting.”
Sarah sighed. She could continue to argue with him, or she can go through the motions again and hope that he can find something she missed.
So she spent another hour going through the same steps she’d gone through just forty-five minutes earlier.
In the end, the tech support representative said merely, “There seems to be no problem with your copy of the game. The problem must be with your ISP. You’ll need to call them for further assistance.”
“But I can connect to the internet just fine. It’s only your game that doesn’t work.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no further assistance I can provide to you. You’ll need to contact your ISP.”
“But…”
“Thank you for calling.”
“But…”
However, the call was already ended. This time, Sarah couldn’t hold back the tears. With face in her hands, she sobbed.
She cried for the next twenty minutes. After regaining her composure, she went to the web site of her ISP looking for a contact number. That took her another fifteen minutes to find—seems that they don’t like to be contacted unless you’re serious about calling them. Navigating yet another automated menu tree—and this time it was one of those annoying voice activated menus, a prerecorded message informed her that hold time would be thirty minutes.
Sarah’s eyes began to feel heavy as she waited. She felt ready to just go to bed and end this crappy day. Just as she decided to hang up, a customer service agent answered. “How may I help you?”
Sarah explained the problem, and the agent worked with her for thirty minutes. In the end she told Sarah, “I’m sorry, but it seems as if you’re internet connection is working properly. The problem you’re experiencing is a software problem related to your game. You’ll have to call the software company who supports your game for further support.”
“But I just got off the phone with them, and they told me to call you!”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can do for you on this end. You’ll need to contact them.”
“But…”
“Thank you for calling.”
Geez, she thought, do they follow the same script?
Sarah stared at her computer screen in despair. She’d spent over five hours on this issue, and she still couldn’t play her game. Sarah was too tired to deal with another phone call and just decided it’d be better to go to bed and tackle this problem again in the morning. She undressed and slipped into bed, crying herself to sleep.
That night, she had the weirdest dream.