a secret handshake

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Let's say you've logged 20 years as an accountant. How much patience would you have with a GED-wielding 24 year-old who, upon encountering you, presumes you cannot do basic arithmetic, and he cannot be dissuaded from condescendingly walking you through it, even after you smack him over the head with the Arzelà–Ascoli theorem?

This is my feeling every time I have to report that my Internet is down.

"Hi, I'd like to report that I've lost Internet connectivity. I've disconnected all routers and boxes, restarted the modem by unplugging it for 30 seconds, and tested it using a laptop and an Ethernet cable. The Online light refuses to blink."

(A child reads from a script)

"Sigh. Yes, the modem is plugged in. Seriously, I have 20 years in techn—"

(Child speaks)

"Sigh. Yes, as I said, I'm hard-wired into it."

(Child speaks)

"Yes, goddamit, I just told you I reset it by unplugging it for 30 seconds. And in answer to the next question in your scri—"

(Child speaks)

"—pt YES I UNPLUGGED ALL MY OTHER DEVICES! JESUS CHRIST!"

(Child speaks)

(Whimpering now) "No. Like I said. The Online light is off."

(Child asks about the hard-wiring again)

"Seriously, is your mommy or daddy there?"

What I need, I've decided, is a secret handshake that identifies myself as someone who actually knows when his Internet is down and would not, in fact, inflict vacuous children upon himself unless he had exhausted all other recourse.

Or a code word. Yeah, a code word!

"Hi, I'd like to report that I've lost Internet connectivity. Oh, and...kompetentaj."

(Automated voice of Morgan Freeman) "Identity confirmed. We'll send someone right out."