Yes, Evan, it's definitely plugged in.

I am a girl. There have been many times in my life when I have embraced this fact. Being a girl means makeup to hide your flaws, the ability to enjoy cuddling, really cute shoes, and not having to pay for drinks (among many other things).

There are very few times when I particularly loathe being a girl, and it almost exclusively involves someone thinking that because I have a vagina I can not work technology. You can always tell when someone thinks you're dumb if you count how many words the other person uses that are larger than five letters, without the infinitive. Today, the Comcast tech support guy did not use any words more difficult than "connect." I'm really not sure how blondes put up with it because surely they get hassled more what with the stereotype and all.

Here's what happened. This morning our Comcast technician came to connect the tv and internet. He was nice, he was friendly, he connected "everything", he left.

Three hours later, our television and internet do not work. Suspicious, you might say, as my roommate and I paid someone an absurd amount of money to plug two large things into two smaller things, all in all taking up the span of maybe ten minutes, including the time it took to walk up the stairs. So I called the Comcast tech support and talked to two lovely people, "Marcy" and "Evan." Marcy was great, but deferred me to Evan. Evan thought I was a little slow. Our conversation went a little like this. (Abbreviated, because nobody wants that.)

ComCast: Ma'am, you're going to plug the power cord into the wall.
Me: Yes, it already is.
CC: You're going to connect the black power cord from the modem to the wall outlet.
Me: ...Yes.
CC: Ok, can you do it now? I'll wait.
Me (pretending to take up the appropriate amount of seconds to plug the power cord into the wall): Yep, plugged in.
CC: That's great. Now you should be set.
Me: ...No. Not working. The technician left, but there is no cable to get an internet source. I'm pretty sure we need one.
CC: Oh no, as long as you have power source we'll get it working. You're doing great.
Me: No, I really think we need a cable for the modem... Was the technician supposed to provide it? They said they were going to bring all the equipment we'd need.
CC: No, ma'am. My computer shows that your modem is receiving a signal. You should be getting internet. Thank you for calling Comcast.

This is about the time when I put on my adult voice. In person, I look younger than most other 20-somethings, and because I also have really big eyes coupled with a fondness for bangs it sometimes makes it difficult to be taken seriously. For things that require non-visual contact, like tech support over the phone, I deepen my voice. This way, I can have the advantage of pretending to be slightly older (low voice -> maturity-> added on years) but I also have the fun of imagining I'm a fierce no-nonsense modern woman who demands quality cable television and reliable internet. Win-win.

Me (lowered voice): Hold on, Evan. I'm still not getting any internet.
CC: Is it plugged in.

This was not asked as a question, but a statement. Do people actually call in and complain about their modem not working without plugging it in first? Really?

Me: Yes. It's plugged in.
CC: The power source is connected to the wall and also into the modem?
Me: As in, is it plugged in? Yes, definitely plugged. But there's still no internet connection. There seems to be a cord missing...
CC: Are the lights on on the device? Is there a flashing light there?
Me: No.
CC: On the receive button? It will look like a green flashing light.
(Who doesn't know what a flashing light looks like?)
Me: Look, I know I'm not a technician, but I think we need another cord that we don't have here.
CC: Is the power light on? It will be red.
Me: Yes. Because it's plugged in.
CC: That's great. Hold on a moment, ma'am.

I get called ma'am because of the lowered voice. I really liked how affirming he was, telling me that I was "doing great" throughout the conversation. Had I actually been performing difficult tasks, I'm sure my esteem would have felt even better.

Me (after ten minutes of silence): ...Is there anything I should be doing?
CC: One second, ma'am.
(Seven Minutes of silence.)
Me: Um... So how are things looking?
CC: Ok, you should have internet now. I boosted the signal. Are the lights flashing?
Me: Evan, there are absolutely no flashing lights.
CC: Hold on... And you're sure it's plugged in?

50 minutes later I found out we could either have a defective modem or an apartment that's not wired for internet. Either way, it was definitely plugged in, AND we still have no internet. Thank goodness for neighbors who "lend" their signal. But I really would want that hour of my life back. The deep voice is only good for so much, I guess.