Dear Internet Service Provider,
I never thought our relationship would come to this, but oh well, here I am, writing an open letter, typing through the flickering agony of a hotspot signal that could collapse at any moment now. Because if I don’t say this now, I might just lose my mind, well that, right after I lose connection again.
You and I, we used to be good. Or at least, you pretended we were. When we first met, you charmed me with glossy brochures, enticing ads, and promises so sweet they should’ve come with a diabetes warning.
“Up to 200 Mbps,” you said.
“Ultra-fast,” you boasted.
“Unlimited,” you whispered.
And like a fool, I believed you. How naive of me!
In the beginning, I convinced myself that the occasional glitch was just… normal. You know, the jittery excitement of a new relationship. And I foolishly kept telling myself that losing connection every now and then was fine, that your random mood swings were just temporary. “All couples go through this,” I thought. “It’ll get better.” Spoiler alert:It didn’t.
Instead, your drawbacks crept in slowly, like red flags disguised as firmware updates.
The disconnections almost became a routine. Buffering quite literally became a lifestyle. You started freezing in the middle of my work calls like you were auditioning for a role in a tragic freeze-frame montage. And those promises? They aged like milk.
Let’s talk about your favorite phrase — your signature breakup line every time I call customer support:
“Please restart your router.”
Restart? RESTART? My dear, if restarting routers could fix relationships, I’d be a certified couples therapist by now. I’ve unplugged, replugged, rebooted, refreshed, reset, resynced — if someone ran a diagnostic on my emotional state, they’d find more restarts than an old Windows XP machine.
Yet somehow, in your world, the solution is always the same.
The problem is never you.
It’s always me. Literally ALWAYS ME.
My device. My cables. My walls. My distance from the router. My very existence, apparently.
Every time I call your helpline, I’m greeted by a representative who speaks with the calm, detached tone of someone floating above earthly suffering. They’re always so certain — so confident — that everything is “working perfectly on our end.” On your end, maybe. On my end? I’m staring at a loading wheel that has become the unofficial mascot of our relationship.
And then, of course, comes the gaslighting.
You tell me I’m “experiencing minor fluctuations.”
Minor?
My connection drops more times a day than my motivation.
I’ve seen less fluctuation in the stock market.
You tell me your system shows no issues.
Your system is clearly a compulsive liar.
You tell me the speeds I’m getting are “normal.”
If this is normal, then humanity is doomed.
Let’s not forget your habit of disappearing at the worst possible times. Midnight? Gone. Critical assignment submission? Gone. Deadline in 30 minutes? Oh, that’s when you’re at your peak vanishing act.
You know what hurts the most? Not the buffering. Not the disconnections. Not even the endless loop of helpline hold music that sounds like a remix of despair.
It’s the powerlessness.
We, your customers, depend on you like we depend on oxygen. You know this. You use it. You let us sign long-term contracts like we’re getting on an emotional rollercoaster that we can’t get off.
There are times, though they are rare and short-lived, when you do your job perfectly. When my videos load in HD, when my calls don’t drop, when the Wi-Fi bars glow like a miracle. Those are the days that convince me maybe you’re changing. Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere. But then, without warning, you plunge back into chaos.
So I need to ask you something, sincerely, from the bottom of my overworked patience:
How many times must my connection “reset” before we both admit this relationship is broken?
I’ve moved the router.
I’ve changed the cables.
I’ve updated the settings.
I’ve performed rituals, whispered prayers, and even given the router pep talks it absolutely did not deserve.
What have you done? Besides offering yet another “We’re currently upgrading our system in your area” message that seems to have been auto-generated since the Stone Age?
You have all the power. The infrastructure. The monopoly. The customer service department powered by copy-pasted scripts. While I am left holding the metaphorical relationship together with tape and hope.
But this letter isn’t just a complaint, rather it’s a warning, a final plea if you may.
Fix yourself.
Fix your connection.
Fix the way you treat the people who literally fund your existence.
Because I’m one outage away from walking out — with my dignity, my sanity, and my router cable wrapped around my shoulder like a battle scar. And I won’t look back.
This isn’t just about the internet. It’s about respect. Stability. Commitment. The basics — things you promised and, somehow, still fail to deliver.
So hear me when I say this, ISP:
If you don’t change your ways, I will find someone else. Someone who actually stays connected. Someone who doesn’t disappear when I need them. Someone who understands what “up to 200 Mbps” actually means.And someone who dosen’t always blame me.
Consider this letter your final warning.
Your last chance.
Sincerely,
A painfully exhausted customer who deserved better.