Long before I moved here I knew that the one modern convenience I absolutely could not do without would be internet access. Although I was in the fifth grade before my family had our first computer and several years older before the internet became commonplace, I've found that my daily lifestyle has become too deeply ingrained in the instant access to information to spend much time in civilized space without it. Thus, very soon after I arrived I began trying to find an internet access provider. Which, of course, turned out to be far more difficult than I'd ever imagined.
Monday morning when I went in for my first day of work, I asked the receptionist, K, if she knew of any internet service providers in Newcastle. "Well, let me think," she said. "I don't have internet at home, and I'm not sure how we get it here at the office." She thought about it, and decided she didn't know. She told me to ask B. I asked B. B does not have internet at home, either. B told me to ask L, who, it turns out, also lacks at-home internet service. I had to ask the youngest person in the office, aside from myself- Br, who is in his early thirties. He doesn't have internet at home, but he knew that the people to contact were at RT Communications. Finally I was getting somewhere.
One quick phone call to RT and I was back to square one. They wanted either a 12-month commitment or a non-refundable $200, and their internet service, with modem rental, ran about $100 a month. No dice.
After another two days of trying to find additional internet providers I was beginning to wonder if I might never be able to check my email again. Luckily, I remembered that Verizon has a mobile broadband service, and someone told me the location of a local provider of Verizon service.
Downtown Newcastle. I checked and double-checked the address before opening the door to a glass-fronted store called "The Carter Company." When I first stepped in the door I was sure I'd made a poor decision, that the store was closed for business and in the middle of renovations. The warehouse-sized room was littered with hitches, batteries, old furniture, rusty car parts, and the back wall was covered in painter's plastic. I balked and started backing out of the store when someone said, "Good afternoon, young lady. Come on in."
The "someone" was, Mr. Carter, senior, an old man sitting at one of the tables with a frayed deck of cards, playing Solitaire. I asked politely if they were a Verizon provider, sure that he'd look at me strangely and say no. But I was wrong. It turns out that The Carter Company is a AC-Delco Automotive Parts/U-HAUL/Verizon store.... Hm.
Mr. Carter, however, could not help me; for that we needed his son, Steve. He called Steve, then told me it would be about twenty minutes, and to have a seat. While we waited, he complained about Obama, swore the country was turning to socialism, and told bad jokes. He was well-meaning, though, and as I was desperate for someone to talk to, I almost enjoyed myself.
When Steve finally arrived I had to explain to him several times what I was looking for. When I finally convinced him that it was internet through the computer, rather than the phone, in which I was interested, he told me that he did indeed have the device I sought. He went to the back of the store to a desk stacked chest-high with papers, magazines, and receipts, dug around, and finally, from the bottom of a large pile, pulled out a crushed cardboard box containing a single USB mobile broadband device. I felt like I'd won the lottery.
It took Steve nearly 45 minutes to finalize the deal. He didn't have internet access himself, so he had to call in both the order to Verizon and the charge on my credit card, all using a rotary-dial phone. While he was busy, I discussed the weather with Mr. Carter, senior. (It rained all day, every day, for the first two weeks I was here.)
I've since been back to The Carter Company, both to chat with Mr. Carter and to notify Steve that he accidentally charged my credit card twice. When I was leaving, Mr. Carter remarked that I should come in and visit sometime, on my breaks, even if I wasn't mischarged. I very well just might. Next time, though, we might have to have a discussion about socialism.
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