Tech Support

I am afraid of tech support. As soon as they introduce themselves and I don't catch their name I tense up. If they speak softly and I can't hear them, I pretend to understand every word and quickly get lost. If they have an accent, I get more nervous. If it's a woman, I relax a bit until I realize she is just as disdainful as the men.
Oh, you can sense it in their tone, the careful way they pronounce your name, very formal, like a butler who knows too much about you.
I try not to sob during these painful events. I lower my voice to sound manly, but when whatever they try doesn't work my voice gets higher, I talk faster, conveying serious desperation. I clench my fists and take deep breaths as we try to connect to the Internet. What will happen to my readers if I can't blog? Am I responsible for their depression and subsequent actions?
Now my carrier has auto support. The woman's voice is very calm and patient and polite, but it is not a real person. She and I both know she's only there because of budget cuts, leaving young tech support people collecting carriages for Pathmark.
Why don't I possess computer savvy or even the confidence I can troubleshoot my own problems? I certainly troubleshoot my medical events. I know when a body part isn't functioning correctly and I take appropriate action. No, not Viagra. I'm talking about body parts I still use.