Fibre optic internet is arriving in Leipzig. The city’s about to join the Modern World.
It’s actually been arriving for months, metre by metre, slowly threading its way beneath the districts as part of a nationwide effort to transition the country to the post-fax era.
I decide it’s time to join the future, too, and am pleasantly surprised to find I can do it all from the comfort of my web browser. When I log in to my provider’s site, I’m greeted with a special offer: nine months of reduced price fibre optic internet running six times faster than my current copper wiring. Expires in two days — what great timing!
I fill out the form, press send and get a text a minute later saying ‘Welcome to a new, exciting world.’ I get another shortly afterwards saying ‘Hm, it appears there’s already a connection at your address. Please contact us as soon as possible.’
I know there’s already a connection here. It’s mine. It’s the one I want to upgrade to the swanky goodness of yestermorrow. Fine, I’ll just give them a quick call and explain. Five minutes, tops.
I’m greeted by Aura, the helpful AI, who’ll do everything she can to assist me, just as soon as I give her my account number. I do. We move on.
‘Please tell me your secret customer number.’
‘My what?’
‘I’m sorry, that doesn’t match our records. Please tell me your secret customer number. If you’re having trouble speaking, you can also enter the number using your phone’s keypad.’
I’ve no idea what my secret number is. I tell her this. She helpfully replies that, if I’ve been so remiss as to lose those precious 4 digits, I can simply look it up within my account online. Great! I hang up and find the right page, click on the link, and get an ‘Oops’ message. They’re very sorry, they can’t retrieve the number right now for ‘technical reasons’, but refreshing the page or coming back later should solve the issue.
I do both. Neither works. I go and have lunch, giving them a little more time to fix things. When I try again, nothing’s changed.
Well, there must be a way to request a new one. I browse the FAQ, find a link, and click it. I’m told a new number has been generated and will be sent to me by post, arriving in 1-3 business days.
Tomorrow’s the weekend. It’ll arrive after the offer’s expired. But I’ve placed an upgrade order; they’ll honour that date, won’t they?
I make a cup of coffee and get on with some editing, having lost a good hour to Aura and friends. I keep an eye on the post box.
Five days later my code arrives. I give Aura a call. Account number: tick. Secret customer number: tick.
‘What can I help you with today?’
I think about how best to word this. Keep it short, succinct.
‘You contacted me requesting more information.’
There’s a pause.
‘Hm. I’m not sure I understood that. Please tell me again how I can help you.’
I try not to sigh in case that counts as a search term.
`I recently ordered a fibre optic internet connection and was told that you require more information from me.’
‘You wish to place an order? I can help you with that. Would you like me to—‘
I hang up. I stand up. I go for a little walk around the flat. I come back and try again. Aura’s very helpful.
‘You just called us, didn’t you? I’m sorry, it seems we were cut off. Would you like me to connect you to our sales team?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. Is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘Problem.’
‘Are you experiencing an issue with your internet connection, or is there a billing issue?’
‘Problem.’
[Pause] ‘Hm, I’m not sure I can help you with that. Would you like me to connect you to one of our customer service staff?’‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Someone will be with you in … three minutes. Please stay on the line.’
Nineties pop music is piped in while I wait. Amazingly, someone does pick up in around three minutes. I’m so happy to hear a human voice that it takes me a moment or two to realise quite how bad their German is.
We talk (slowly). We sort. We hang up amicably.
I’m now on the waiting list to join the Digital Revolution.
Sometime between now and November.
