The new urban legend: "... and they didn't even have a Web site." ("Whooooaaa.")

I love instant gratification. Love it. If there were ever some meltdown of communication where cell phones, the Internet and, heck, even (what do they call those things?) landlines all stopped working, so would my heart.

I was a kid/teen in the '80s and '90s. Life sped up from 1980 to 2000, and that's a scientific fact. The Internet changed from telephony to Instant Messenger. Car phones turned in to Zac Morris phones, to cell phones. Letters turned to faxes, into e-mails. And I love it. Every bit of it.

It's like living in a VCR (remember those, ha) where someone's always pressing fast forward. If I have to wait longer than a few hours to hear from someone over e-mail, I panic. Well, first I text message them, and then I panic. The point is, all this is great, but it's made me a pretty impatient person.

Gather 'round, children, by the campfire. Erin has a scary story to tell.

Since we no longer pay rent in Michigan (thank all that is holy), we got a refund for the rent we paid in December. Problem? The money wasn't all there, because the rental company said we didn't pay for rent in October. Uh, yes we did. Naturally, I screamed a bit to no one in particular, then went online to my online bank account to fix the problem.

But the bank's site was down. For like, 48 hours. I'm not even joking. This stuff happens, apparently. Can you even believe it?

So I went to the bank. Yeah, in person. (After I Googled "banks in my area" to find it.) I talked (face to face!) with the bank teller. She gave me proof that I paid rent, and that the rental company had cashed the check at the beginning of November. Erin's right. Score.

So the fiance and I call the rental company. They can't help us. It's out of their hands. It's in corporate hands. We ask for corporate's number. They can't give that info out. They tell us to write a letter. WRITE A LETTER. And mail it. No, that's not a typo. Mail. Not e-mail.

Are they kidding? What company doesn't have an email address, a Web site and an 800 number?

What kind of company are they running, anyhow? Don't they know it's 2005? Almost 2006?

As a child whose generation has never known life before M*A*S*H reruns, answering machines, MTV and CDs, this just can't be happening. It's as if I stepped into a time machine, and can't get out. Where's the "take me to 2005" button?

This can't be happening. It's an urban legend. WHO DOESN'T HAVE A WEB SITE? Who. I want names.