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Faking It Can Mean Real Trouble

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Comcast has gotten itself into some  deep kimchee – $4000 worth, to be exact – with the FCC over a video news release (VNR) it aired in September 2006 as a news piece on CN8’s "All About You" segment.  CN8 is Comcast’s "news" station, and is a good example of how the intersection of a need to fill air-time with the ready availability of corporate PR video can cause fender-benders on the information highway…

First, there might be no such thing as bad publicity, but I doubt that the folks who make Nelson Rescue Sleep, the product being touted in the fine-inducing VNR, are entirely delighted with the headlines they’re getting today.  Seeing a company’s name in a story about "fake news" can make a potential customer run for the exit to avoid getting ripped of by something "fake" – whether the actual product is snake oil or not.

Second, and more serious, is the further erosion of public trust in what they see on TV or in print labeled "news" – is it really news, or is it someone’s propaganda?  Propaganda has been around since the first clique formed, right after there were more than two people on the planet.  Everyone – individuals AND enterprises – wants to put their best face forward, to tell their best story.  Problems arise, however, when any story is presented as fact without independent commentary or opinion.  If you ask Allstate, they’re the best insurance company in the world – best service, best value, best coverage.  But if you’re doing a survey of the insurance industry, you’ve gotta get input from State Farm, too – AND from independent analysts.

I’m all about a good story – but telling a story to attract customers is vastly different than presenting that story, stand-alone, as "news".  It ain’t news – it may be a great story, but it ain’t news.

That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

My ISP Is a Bad Boyfriend

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They don’t call.

square blog with bad boyfriend in white text
credit: bad boyfriend society

They make promises they know they’ll never keep.

They stand you up, repeatedly.

Bad boyfriend! Bad!

But they’re charming, and their promise-making is so very seductive that you forget, in the moment, that what they’re telling you is lies, damn lies.

But they lie so very well.

I came to the heartbreaking realization recently that I had another bad boyfriend…and this time it was my internet service provider. Darlin’, no one can break your heart like an ISP.

When I moved in January of 2006, I decided to switch from DSL to cable broadband. My DSL relationship had been fraught with dissention and argument, very reminiscent of Controlling Lover From Hell syndrome.

This CLFH was fond of trying to make me think I was stupid and unworthy by imperiously suggesting the technological version of self-improvement was what I needed, not a switch from copper to fiber.  This CLFH was also on the Indian subcontinent and in possession of marginal English skills.  I’ve never enjoyed transcontinental, semi-bi-lingual relationships, so I knew a breakup was inevitable.

When the time came, I fell for a seductive voiceover purring the “I’m so much faster” line.

I failed to remember that when it comes to seduction, who wants fast?

I was moist with anticipation when our consummating date – the install – arrived. The sinuous cables snaking their way into my home office promised a fast and hot experience.

What occurred was “failure to launch” – in this case, failure to deliver a connection.

Six months of emotional drama ensued – pleading, threats, promises, broken appointments, flowers (in the form of bill credits) – with no resolution, and only occasional bliss in the form of actually connecting.

Mostly, it was just like dating someone whose IQ is half yours but who looks good – you know you’re kidding yourself, and sooner or later it will all end in tears.

Bad boyfriend! Bad!

The strangest thing happened after I met someone else, though. I was flirting, and had started to talk about making a date with this fascinating new fiber god when suddenly – surprise, surprise – the bad boyfriend suggested relationship counseling.

The counselor (in the guise of the VP of Operations) scheduled group therapy, and actually made a house call.

I had been begging, pleading, even weeping for new cable from the pole to my house for six months. “No, no, honey,” I was told repeatedly, “you don’t need that.  You need a new modem/network card/Cat 5 cable/router/computer.”

In other words, “It’s not me, it’s you!”

Bad boyfriend! Bad!

On that hopeful and shimmering day when couples therapy made a house call, the counselor listened.

He evaluated.

He spoke.

He said, “You need new cable from the pole to your house.”

And he made it happen.

Since then, we’ve had the hot, fast computer-on-Internet action that dreams are made of – and that the rotter promised me at the beginning.

But I’m not lulled into complacency, or stupefied by satisfaction of desire. There’s a new fiber god coming to the neighborhood. To keep me around, my bad boyfriend had better keep me in the style to which I’d like to become accustomed – by lowering his rates – or this girl’s movin’ on.