For most people with computers, tablets or “smart” phones, the World Wide Web is a familiar and necessary place. And even though no one ever refers to it as “The World Wide Web” anymore (and usage of the word “cyberspace” will instantly make you as hip as claiming you found the roots of Rhythm and Blues in Barry Manilow), our devices would be pretty boring without it.

Without the internet we wouldn’t be able to urgently forward email from Bill Gates who is sharing his fortune with everyone in our address book. We’d be without the ability to leave inflammatory comments we would never say in person on an acquaintance’s FaceBook wall. We couldn’t buy stuff from giant internet companies that still don’t make a profit or find joy day trading stocks with our life savings. And no, we’d be unable to watch soppy “Britain Has Some Talent” moments or have a jolly old time clicking on anything that might play a funny animal video. While some people understand how the magic of all this gets delivered to your screen, most do not.

So where exactly does that website live?

Glad you asked. This year we decided to move the Mick’s Macs website to a new web host. While for many a web host sounds like a creepy arachnid, it’s actually just a company with a bajillion computers that are always on and connected to the internet. Normally, changing a web host is pretty cut and dry. You call them up (yes, in 2014, I had to actually phone to cut off the monthly billing), talk to someone, and tell them you’re changing hosts. At least that’s what I thought was going to happen.

What stands before you is the actual conversation I had with the guy who answered the phone at BigWeb, our previous web host. [Some names have been changed to protect the embarrassed.]

“BigWeb, this is Ben. How can I help you?”

“Hi Ben, my name’s Mick and we’ve moved our MicksMacs.com website to another host. I need to close my account.”

“You’re saying you’ve already moved on?”

“Yes, for various reasons, not the least of which is we don’t really need a big company anymore. We’ve decided to move to a smaller, newer company that has a leaner more responsive model.”

“So, you’re leaving us for a younger, leaner, more responsive host?”

“HA! Yes, I suppose I am. No offense or anything, but BigWeb has gotten too large for my needs. I just need to close my account. I tried to do this on the website and couldn’t figure out how.”

“You have to phone to end the contract. There are some papers to sign. Have you thought this over?”

“Huh?”

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Um,.. well, yes. Actually, it’s already done. The new site is live with the new host.”

“And you’re just informing us now?”

“Well,… yes. Things were so hectic during the final weeks of preparation, I didn’t think to phone earlier. Did I do wrong?”

“A little more warning might have been nice. We’d have been happy to talk about it and see if there was something we could work out.”

“Oh, it’s not personal at all. We just decided to use WordPress (a different website design code) and it wasn’t supported here at BigWeb.”

“Are you sure? I could look into that for you. People can change, Mick.”

“People?”

“Companies are made up of people, Mick.”

“Um, Ben?”

“Yes, Mick?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to get this account closed.”

“I need to verify a few things first.”

“Of course.”

“I need your password, date of birth, Social Security number, bank account and FaceBook login.”

“HA! Funny.” That was one of those times you use the word “funny” to mean “I’m-a-little-uncomfortable-with-your-sense-of-humor.” Ben was dry as toast and a little odd. He continued.

“Okay, just the password to your admin account with us.”

I gave it to him and the line was silent.

“Do you want any of your old stuff back?”

“You mean the website files? No, just delete them.”

I can hear the sound of some typing and a mouse click.

“And just like that, it's over, they’re gone.”

“Thanks, Ben. Are we good now?”

“I have to ask you some more questions.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“We have this script we have to follow. Spaces I have to fill in. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t ask these questions even if you hang up on me. You understand, right?”

“I won’t hang up on you, Ben, but can we pick up the pace here?”

“Sure. Why are you leaving?”

“ Seriously?! Ben, we’ve been through this before! You didn’t do anything terribly wrong, we’re just moving to a new platform you don’t support.”

“Mick, I’m sorry. I have to ask. Would you say we weren’t right for you anymore?”

“Is that a box you have to tick?”

“Yes, D.”

“Are you sure this isn’t one of those optional surveys we’re asked to do at the end of a call?”

“No, I have to fill this out before we can have closure.”

“If you say so. What else?”

“Is there anything we can do to make you stay?”

“Ben, we’ve covered this. It sounds like you're pleading.”

“We have to.”

“You have to plead?”

“We have to ask if there is anything we might have done differently to keep you happy.”

“That’s sounds awfully co-dependent.”

“I still have to ask. Was there anything we might have done differently?”

“Well, [sigh] okay.  If I'm being totally honest, I'd have to say it was your high maintenance fees and the fact that your Admin interface got old and unattractive after a decade or so. I was hoping you'd update your look.”

“So our interface became old and unattractive and and you felt we weren't worth it, right?"

“Well, in the beginning everything was new. We were in love with the web design team we’d hired. They were the ones who introduced us. You were also cheaper back then.”

“So you prefer new and cheap?”

“Well, yeah. It was our first serious website, you know? We’ve learned a lot, but it’s time to move on. Listen Ben, BigWeb’s a great web host. Honest, there’s nothing wrong with you guys. You’re just not a good match for us. We’re probably crazy to leave and we might even come crawling back to you one day, but for now, we’re done.”

“So this is the ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ speech?”

“Yes, Ben. It’s not you. It’s us. It’s our fault this isn’t working out. You were perfect and we got bored. You’re better off without us. Trust me. This is a good thing.”

“Mick, are you on a cell phone? I can’t hear you well. You’re breaking up.”

“Ben, you’re killing me here.”

Awkward pause.

“Ben, are you still there?”

“Yes, Mick.”

“Can we wrap things up?

“Yes, of course. I’ll put down ‘found a better deal.’”

“Works for me.”

“So this is it.”

“Yep. Is there anything else you need? I really, really have to go!”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“I was referring to closing the billing on my BigWeb account?”

“Yes, of course. It looks like you just entered into a new billing cycle a few days ago.”

“Can you postdate this?”

“You want to postdate?”

“Well, if it would save having to pay another bill, sure.”

“We can’t postdate, Mick.”

“Can you pro-rate it?”

“I’ll have to check with our billing counselor tomorrow, but probably no. I suppose you want a ring back?”

“You mean a call back? Actually, an email response would be fine.”

There was another long pause and I nearly hung up, but I had to be sure we were done. Ben’s tone changed when he spoke again.

“Thank-you-for-being-a-BigWeb-client. At-the-end-of-this-call-you’ll-be-asked-to-take-a-short-customer-survey. Would-you-be-willing-to-do-that?”

“Ben, no. I think it’s best if we just make this a clean break. I hope you understand.”

“Got-it. Have-a-good-life,-Mick. All-the-best-and-all-that.”

“You too, Ben.”

I hung up and continued to wonder if I'd been too harsh.

At Mick’s Macs, we know the only constant is change. Let us help you move forward without all the heartbreak.

All the best,