Pleasure Notes

I must be a celebrity. How else can I explain having my very own Dooce moment this week? If I’m flexing with the kind of power Heather Armstrong can throw down, the world better watch out!

For those of you who were mysteriously without power in late August, 2009, or who have memories worse than mine (for which you have my deepest condolences), let me summarize Dooce’s story so you’ll then see how it’s now become mine…

A few months ago, Dooce had a little run-in with Maytag. Her washing machine broke. It was ugly. After many attempts to work through the normal, old-school channels to solve her problem, her frustration and helplessness reached a peak. She wrote about the situation on her blog and finally spoke up on Twitter. Since she’s kind of a popular gal in the blogosphere and has about a gazillion tweet followers, her angst-ridden cries were heard. Scandal, offers of free service as well as free machinery and, ultimately, a solution to her crisis ensued. Pundits were galvanized into action, lambasting her use of celebrity while praising the power of Twitter and predicting that any company without a social media presence would soon slide into the abyss of irrelevance.

Okay, I may have slightly exaggerated that last bit, about the prediction. Nobody actually said that. Out loud. But you know it’s true.

So, Dooce’s problem was resolved in the fall. She started doing laundry again. And everyone went on their merry way.

Until five days ago, when I morphed into Dooce.

On Wednesday of this past week, my blog went KAPUT. It alternately took FOREVER to load or screamed an alarming statement like “error: cannot connect to database server” across a stark white screen.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. OH. MY. GOD.

Any blogger can tell you, losing access to one’s blog is like losing a child. Worse. Particularly if you don’t have a child.

I stared at my computer. I shouted at my computer. I pulled at my hair. I begged the loading gods, the internet gods and the WordPress gods. And I called my host provider, Go Daddy.

I called them on Wednesday. They said they were having a little problem with the server, but it would be fixed in a jiffy, and in the meantime I should use fewer images or talk to WordPress because my real issue might be there. I hung up, not at all convinced my needs had been met. I also deleted a few images and a video from recent posts. THE SITUATION DID NOT IMPROVE.

I called them on Thursday. They said I probably had too many plugins and I should just download another plugin, WP Super Cache, which would solve my problems. I hung up, frustrated that their solution to too many plugins was another plugin and still wondering why not being able to connect to the database server was my fault. I downloaded the plugin anyway. NO CHANGE.

I called them on Friday. I tried to be calm. I reiterated, word for word, the lengthy conversations I’d had the previous two days. I explained the actions I’d taken. I was put on hold. Then, they finally confirmed that Go Daddy was indeed having a server problem. And customer service had no idea when the problem would be resolved. Oh well.

WHA–?! This is when steam started seeping from my ears.

I warned that if the situation was not rectified, I would have to find a different hosting service. This was not an idle threat. I was ready to walk. Not a single person with whom I’d spoken, IN THREE DAYS OF PHONE CALLS, had expressed any concern or empathy regarding my predicament, conveyed any sense of urgency about finding a solution, or offered any compensatory terms for my loss of service. In fact, I felt like they’d wasted far too many of my cellphone minutes doubting me when I said the problem was on their end.

AND I STILL HAD A PROBLEM.

I asked if I could be switched to a different server. I was told NO. I would just have to wait. Sorry. Bye-bye.

I WAS DONE. To be perfectly honest, I was virtually in tears of helpless rage. That is not a good thing.

Then, I remembered Dooce. And, on a whim, I tweeted my total frustration and need to find a new hosting company. At the same time, I googled “best hosting sites.”

FIVE MINUTES LATER, MY PHONE RANG.

No joke. A long distance number. An area code I didn’t recognize. But I answered it anyway because I thought what if…

And HOLY GUACAMOLE! The nicest guy on the planet introduced himself – Alon, one of the Twitter dudes from @GoDaddyGuy. He said he’d read my tweet and had called because he thought he might be able to help.

AND HE DID! He switched me to a new server. He walked me through every step. He was kind and empathetic and respectful. He restored my faith in humanity, or at least in Go Daddy.

All because of Twitter, people. And, if you believe The Week, because I’m a celebrity. Pretty awesome, right?

Hee hee hee hee hee. xo

Tags: Dooce moment, social media, Twitter

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 31st, 2010 at 9:00 am and is filed under life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.