Move, Then Just Try to Get Phone Service : Getting answers: How could it take nearly a week to get the same number up and running?

It was so much simpler in the days following the Northridge quake. We expected to be without basic services and necessities and were grateful as phone service, electricity and transportation crept back to normal. Between life-threatening emergencies, however, we expect more.

That is why I am so flummoxed by how hard it has been to carry out a seemingly simple three-mile move from Reseda to Encino. Four days after I arrived at my new abode, I am still awaiting the resumption of phone service, cable television and mail delivery.

Alexander Graham Bell could have restored my phone line quicker than Pac Bell, especially since I kept the same number. For some reason they could not simply hit a switch and voila --let it ring. No, for the first three days, I had to leave my phone and answering machine at my old digs and use pay phones. Finally someone was to climb a pole and reconnect my line from Encino to the wide world outside.

Arriving home late from a long day of taping a television program (Ironically, I’m in communications myself), I discovered upon answering my phone that my line had been connected into another’s. Calmly dialing an 800 number, I reported the problem to an operator. She assured me the situation would be fixed within an hour. She was wrong.

Wondering just how many important calls I had missed, I determined to report the problem with more urgency. I finally got through to a recording that informed me my service would be restored “within five working days.” Staying on the line, I spoke with a supervisor and, among other things, threatened the wrath of the Federal Communications Commission if something wasn’t done with greater haste. As I write this in early April, someone is set to climb back up a pole tomorrow.

In the meantime, I had set an appointment, a term used loosely to describe a four-hour window of “opportunity,” to have cable service reinstalled. In making the arrangement, I had informed the service person that calling my phone number would be useless. Simply have the installers come out to my building and the manager would let them in, I said.

I waited all morning. Then I trudged up the street to a pay phone. Naturally, I was informed that my number had been called and I was “not at home.” I rescheduled for that afternoon. To the great shock and surprise, I’m sure, of all who read this, the same scenario again played out.

Calling yet again, and speaking for the third time with a different person (although they all have that same bored monotone perfected), I rescheduled for later in the week when my phone line would be restored. Of course, they’ll be in a race with that guy up the pole.

And what about my mail? Am I the only one who regrets the loss of convenience, promptness and efficiency once provided by the Pony Express? I haven’t seen a trace of mail in days. Just my luck too, as, literally, a check was in the mail. Yes, I filled out a change of address form. I also play the Publishers’ Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.