At Time Warner Cable, most people come with their cable boxes — the darn things keep breaking, and you have to hike all the way down to 23rd Street to get a new one. At the store, you explain what’s wrong with the box, the customer service agent nods and you sign something and leave with a new one. Time Warner has an entire wall filled with returned cable boxes. The morgue, if you will.
A few months ago, as I waited with my box, a blind man walked in the door. He wore lime green shirt that matched his lime green cart, and the lime green rod he used to click his way around New York City.
A customer service agent rushed up to help the man. He said something to the blind man, and the blind man said something back. And then the worker escorted the blind man to the counter.
The guy next to me said, "Wonder what he's doing he."
"He's a fraud, " his wife said. "A fraud. Can't watch TV if you can't see."
The dozen or so people waiting along the wall got real quiet. They tried to hear the faint whispers from this mystery man’s mouth — heard no words though, so they went back to reading their magazines.
The blind man reached into his cart to grab his cable box. He put it on the counter. The customer service woman asked a few questions and then she exchanged his box. As she escorted him out, she said, "Now, the sound will work perfectly."
Made sense, I guess. Blind guy listens to TV. After all, radio isn't what it used to be.
But as the blind man left the store, he said to the woman, "You've been very helpful. Thank you so much. My kids have been going crazy without cable."
