It started at 9:00 a.m. on Aug. 25. The first IT ticket. A professor called complaining about WiFi not working in her classroom. I told her to talk to ECM (who told her to talk to the building manager, who told her to talk to ECM, who sent a student over who restarted her computer and then left).
9:12 a.m.: Another call. A student in the library couldn’t access the WiFi to do the reading that her professor assigned for the first day of classes at the last possible moment. I told her to try UR_Connected5. She couldn’t find it. She used her phone data and blew the whole plan in an hour.
10:15 a.m.: Three more students have found themselves unable to Grubhub food. They fear going hungry as dining halls begin to close breakfast immediately after opening their doors for the day. I offer their friends my condolences.
11:22 a.m.: A student came in, crying. They couldn’t access their syllabus for PHIL 315: Getting Stretched on a Medieval Rack. It was supposed to be their low-stress class this semester, but now that the rack can’t connect to WiFi, they’re being asked to operate it manually and they don’t have the energy for that. I suggested an Ethernet cord but it got caught in the gears.
12:15 p.m.: Multiple students reach out complaining that their midday masturbation session has been cut short by the lack of WiFi. One ticket reads “I can’t masturbate to the Chrome dinosaur.” Another: “The Chrome dinosaur turns me on now.” Relatedly, the rental laptops have come back cleaner than usual.
3:03 p.m.: Two students are fighting over what year Lady Gaga died. They are unable to look up the answer. I tell them she’s not dead. They don’t believe me without a supporting Instagram infographic.
4:19 p.m.: Several students in the Susan B. Anthony Residence Hall are complaining of being unable to make searches online. When I check their browser, the most recent search is “how to roll a joint.” I’m sure Susan would have approved.
4:59 p.m.: Before clocking out, I check and discover that the school’s WiFi has been disabled all day. Whatever. Not my problem. Maybe I’ll fix it tomorrow. Maybe not. Probably not.