"Thank you for calling Brighthouse Networks' help line. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I've been having problems connecting to certain web pages for four days now, and–"

"Have you rebooted your computer?"

"Yes, first thing. Also cleared my cache, deleted my cookies, reset my router, and flushed my DNS. None of it helped, but–"

"Please try rebooting your computer for me."

"But I did that."

"Not while I was on the phone with you, though."

"How is that different?"

"If I hear you do it, I can check it off my little script here."

"Even though it will have no useful outcome and will just waste both our times?"

"But it will have a useful outcome."

"What?"

"I'll be able to check it off my little script here."

"Can I speak to your supervisor?"

"Not for, oh, about 40 more minutes."

"Is your supervisor not there?"

"Of course he's here. But we have an awful lot of script left. Next I'll need you to reset your router. And then reboot your computer again, this time while singing 'I'm a Little Teapot'."

"But the problem isn't with any of my equipment. I connected my laptop at Panera Bread's wifi and everything worked fine. There are people in this area complaining about Brighthouse service all over the web, and the local TV news even did a story about it. The problem is clearly at your end, it's been going on for four days now, and I'd like to know when it will be resolved."

"There is no problem Brighthouse is aware of, sir."

"How can you say that?"

"It's right here on my script, sir."

"What if your script is at marked odds with reality?"

"You'd have to ask my supervisor."

"And can I talk to–"

"Not for another 35 minutes. Nice try, though."

"So there is a known problem, reported extensively online and in the media, and you have no information about it whatsoever to give to me."

"My scripts are very clear on the matter, sir."

"And what do your scripts tell you?"

"That whatever is wrong, it's the customer's fault. And to reboot a lot."

"For 35 minutes."

"If necessary, yes. After that time the problem may be judged serious enough to pass on to my supervisor."

"So you are basically–"

"The gatekeeper, sir. None shall pass me, save they answer these questions thirty-three. My job is to guard the wise ones above from casual questions and minor glitches so that their time is more properly spent on the higher arts."

"What if I had a business account?"

"Oh, sir, then you'd go right in. Also I believe you get champagne out of a small spigot in your cable box."

"Are the business account people having the same problem getting to web pages that everyone else is?"

"Yes, but we make them feel better about it."

"So there is a problem."

"Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"But you just said–"

"Are you a business account, sir?"

"No, but–"

"Then I am not aware of any problem."

"So basically I have to hope that enough businesses make a loud enough noise so that you'll fix it for them, which will coincidentally fix it for me?"

"In a nutshell, sir."

"You're not worried about the bad publicity four days of Internet outages cause you?"

"If I may ask, sir, where are people complaining?"

"I don't have the link, I can't get onl… ah."

"It's elegant in its simplicity, sir."

"Well played."

"Thank you, sir."

"And I can talk to your supervisor…?"

"In 12 more minutes, sir, and I'm sure he'll be able to help you. But now I need to put you on hold."

"Another call?"

"Of a sort. I have to pretend to be the supervisor for the tech support guy in the cubicle next to me. We trade off."

"You mean you–"

"It's fun, really. We give them funny accents."

"Is there a real supervisor in the building?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"No, sir."

"Will there be?"

"He'll be in later today, sir. He's having problems with his Internet connection at home."

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