Never Too Jaded

You know how sometimes you drop something round, like a coin or a bottle cap, and it spins like a top, spinning, spinning, spinning for what seems like a ridiculously long time?

When that happens to me, I go crazy. I shout at the object, "ENOUGH ALREADY! WE KNOW! YOU FELL ON THE FLOOR! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM US?! STOP SPINNING ALREADY AND JUST DIE! DIEEEEE!!!!!!!"

And that only lasts about five seconds.

That's how impatient I am.

I'm so impatient that when a Web site doesn't load within *three* seconds, I frantically hit the back button and then I have to go email everyone I know about how horrible the Web site was (in the latest case it was the Web site for the new Star Trek movie).

So today was very hard for me. I had to wait at home for 8 hours for the Vodafone guy to come install my Internet. 8 hours. That's three seconds times 9600.

And as all friends of the blog know, that's on top of the seven months I've been waiting since I moved to Berlin to have the Internet at home. That's math I can't even do.

But I didn't shout. I didn't fume. I didn't blog (well, I didn't haven the Internet, but you know).

I was being so good! I just sat around the house and read (Kafka--nothing could have been more appropriate) and tried not to look at the clock.

Then at precisely 15:00, after seven months and seven hours of being uncharacteristically patient, I got a text message from Vodafone. I was so excited because I thought my waiting was finally over--I could talk over Skype to my friends and family, watch Hulu and YouTube, check the weather and find out all sorts of exciting tidbits about this fascinating country!

Instead, I got this message:

Ihr Vodafone-Anschluss konnte heute nicht realisiert werden. Bitte rufen Sie uns hierzu unter ##### an. Danke.

"Your Vodafone-connection could not be realized today. Please call us about it at ######. Thanks."

Typically German. No apology. No explanation. Just a matter-of-fact, extremely punctual, "you get nothing".

So I called. I navigated through three levels of German voicejail. I endured five minutes of horrible hold music.

Finally, I was connected with a real person. We spoke. He was polite. I was polite.

End result?

At some date in the future, they will give me another appointment. They couldn't tell me when. All they could say is that it will be at least two weeks from now.

When I think about it, what happened to me is actually *exactly* the plot of Kafka's The Trial.

Well, I mean, except that it's about getting the Internet, not getting executed. But I bet if Al Gore had already invented the Internet by the time Kafka was writing, his book would have been called Der Anschluss rather than Der Prozess.

I know what you're thinking. How stupid am I? Why did I not see this coming?

What can I say, dear readers? I had the audacity to hope.

Blame Obama.