In our house, WiFi is not just an internet connection. It is a battleground. A sacred resource. A modern-day gold rush. And every single member of the family believes they are the rightful heir to the most bandwidth.
My teenage son claims priority because he is “gaming with the boys.” This apparently requires lightning-fast speeds, zero lag, and absolute silence from the rest of us. If I so much as open Netflix, he starts yelling that I am ruining his kill streak. Sorry kid. I just want to watch a baking show.
Meanwhile, my daughter insists that she needs the WiFi for “schoolwork,” which I later discover is just code for watching TikToks about people doing schoolwork. She says she cannot focus if the connection lags. I say I cannot focus with the sound of thirty-second lip-sync battles echoing through the house.
Then there is my husband, who suddenly decides to download a 12-hour software update right when everyone else is online. He claims it is work related. I suspect it is just an elaborate plan to stream every James Bond movie in HD.
And me? I just want to check my email and maybe sneak in a little online shopping without getting booted off the WiFi every five minutes. I am the one paying for this glorious connection. Shouldn't that come with some kind of VIP access?
At this point, I am considering assigning everyone time slots like a gym class schedule. Or maybe building a second router and hiding it in my closet.
Until then, the WiFi wars continue. May the strongest signal win. And may I one day finish a Zoom call without someone shouting from the next room that I “lagged them to death.”
