Friday, December 4, 2009

Remote Control... #3

Yes, around these parts, "remote control" is another word for "dog treat."Luckily, Time Warner Cable has a policy where they will allow you to trade in your remote without question if anything should, uh, happen to it.

The first time Cay used the remote control as a chew toy we assumed it was a lost cause so we tossed it and paid $15 for a replacement. The lovely-really!- employees at the Time Warner Cable service center told me that if we didn't actually throw it out, we could bring it back at any time and get our account credited for the replacement cost. Despite my assurances that it was demolished beyond recognition and they wouldn't want it, they all looked at me with "So sorry you lost $15" eyes.

The second time I woke up to find our living room floor littered with the sad remains of the remote control, I dutifully went to the pantry to get a ziplock bag in which to gather the teeny tiny pieces that Time Warner said they wanted back. When J woke up and padded into the living room to find me excavating plastic from the area rug he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. Despite his assurances that they were not going to accept the fruits of my labor and we were going to have to pay another $15 anyway, I finished my task and we headed to the store.

Armed with my baggie of dog-chewed remote control (now in easy to choke on bite-sized), I jumped out of the car and ran to the door of the Time Warner Cable Store as J looked for parking. Inside a perky young blonde asked what I needed this morning. I replied that I just needed a remote control and she instantly pulled out one from the stack sitting on her hostess podium. She asked for the old remote, so I pulled out my baggie and presented it to her. She looked shocked. She looked vaguely appalled. But she took that baggie of useless remote control and didn't even ask my name, account number, or what my vendetta against electronics was. I was back on my way before J even found a parking spot.

Now we're on remote control number 3. Saturday, when I was brushing my teeth I heard a familiar munching noise coming from the living room. Bursting in, I was greeted with Cay, delightedly gnawing on his newest tasty remote control. Luckily I stopped him before he rendered it useless, and this time I remembered to take a picture!

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