A "Bundle" Of Nerves
The other day, I finally decided to contact my cable company and get their "bundled services" package: 5MBPS Internet, Phone Service and Digital Cable. (This was an upgrade to the cable and Internet service, and having the phone through them will come out to be about $20 per month cheaper.)
The sales rep told me at the time that I could keep my existing phone number, and they'd just switch it over from AT&T ("Don't call AT&T to cancel--we'll do that when we switch it"). Fine by me. I made the appointment and the service technician, "Andreas," arrived this morning at 10:50AM (10 minutes early, no less!). Just like all the other technicians from XYZ Cable Company, he was a walking wet dream (seriously, I think they only hire European porn models--they're all drop-dead gorgeous)--but that's neither here nor there.
While he was here, shamelessly teasing me in his tight pants and cute uniform, he informed me that the original work order was entered improperly and that my phone number would, in fact, change.
Oh hey-ull, no.
I called the company while he was here and explained that I either keep my phone number or cancel the whole enchilada, yada, yada, yada. Actually, I explained it six times, because that's how often they transferred me, with an average wait time of 10 minutes on hold between each department. (Andreas had left halfway through this debacle, after giving me his cell phone number and saying to call him within 10 days if I had trouble with any of the services. After I pointed out that this mix-up was, in fact, "trouble," he said that he meant if the Internet didn't work or the cable TV cut out. Oh. I guess we get to pick what kind of trouble we're responsible for these days.)
But what a whirlwind world tour I took over the phone! I think I talked to someone in Pennsylvania, someone in Massachusetts, someone in Texas (or was it Mexico?), and someone in India! It was sort of a telephone version of Disney's "It's A Small World." Without the cute hats and terrible food.
I ended up talking to somebody in Sales who had no discernible dialect, so she must have been in the Midwest. And she, in turn, transferred me to someone's voice mail box (perhaps expecting him to pick up instead? I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here--because if I thought I was being fobbed off yet again, I'd give her a free chemical peel instead).
I left him my old phone number (the one I want to keep), the new one that Andreas said was now installed (that I don't want), my name and my address (explaining as I did so that I'd already given this information six times, so one more wouldn't matter). It was quite a lengthy voice mail, although certainly not the longest one I've ever left. After an hour on hold with various departments within XYZ Cable Company, I decided to hang it up for now (literally). Just for shits and giggles, I called my old phone number from my cell.
It rang.
Then I called the new phone number Andreas gave me. It rang somewhere, but not in my house, and connected me to a voice mail box. I don't know whose.
Well, at least I now have digital cable and higher speed Internet. And if things don't work properly, I have Andreas' cell phone number.
And some handcuffs and baby oil...
The sales rep told me at the time that I could keep my existing phone number, and they'd just switch it over from AT&T ("Don't call AT&T to cancel--we'll do that when we switch it"). Fine by me. I made the appointment and the service technician, "Andreas," arrived this morning at 10:50AM (10 minutes early, no less!). Just like all the other technicians from XYZ Cable Company, he was a walking wet dream (seriously, I think they only hire European porn models--they're all drop-dead gorgeous)--but that's neither here nor there.
While he was here, shamelessly teasing me in his tight pants and cute uniform, he informed me that the original work order was entered improperly and that my phone number would, in fact, change.
Oh hey-ull, no.
I called the company while he was here and explained that I either keep my phone number or cancel the whole enchilada, yada, yada, yada. Actually, I explained it six times, because that's how often they transferred me, with an average wait time of 10 minutes on hold between each department. (Andreas had left halfway through this debacle, after giving me his cell phone number and saying to call him within 10 days if I had trouble with any of the services. After I pointed out that this mix-up was, in fact, "trouble," he said that he meant if the Internet didn't work or the cable TV cut out. Oh. I guess we get to pick what kind of trouble we're responsible for these days.)
But what a whirlwind world tour I took over the phone! I think I talked to someone in Pennsylvania, someone in Massachusetts, someone in Texas (or was it Mexico?), and someone in India! It was sort of a telephone version of Disney's "It's A Small World." Without the cute hats and terrible food.
I ended up talking to somebody in Sales who had no discernible dialect, so she must have been in the Midwest. And she, in turn, transferred me to someone's voice mail box (perhaps expecting him to pick up instead? I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here--because if I thought I was being fobbed off yet again, I'd give her a free chemical peel instead).
I left him my old phone number (the one I want to keep), the new one that Andreas said was now installed (that I don't want), my name and my address (explaining as I did so that I'd already given this information six times, so one more wouldn't matter). It was quite a lengthy voice mail, although certainly not the longest one I've ever left. After an hour on hold with various departments within XYZ Cable Company, I decided to hang it up for now (literally). Just for shits and giggles, I called my old phone number from my cell.
It rang.
Then I called the new phone number Andreas gave me. It rang somewhere, but not in my house, and connected me to a voice mail box. I don't know whose.
Well, at least I now have digital cable and higher speed Internet. And if things don't work properly, I have Andreas' cell phone number.
And some handcuffs and baby oil...
posted by Aaron at 1:30 PM
6 Comments:
Once a phone company gave us our neighbors services and vice versa when they moved from an upstairs apt to a downstairs one. After numerous calls to and other unpleasant what-not a tech from the neighbor's phone company was dispatched to fix the problem and the company tried to charge us for the visit. We weren't even their customers! We were the victims of their boob of an employee who effed up our lines!
Every time I moved to a new place and had Big Telephone install my service (the only option at the time), they always fucked it up the first time. Always, always, always.
And they always tried to charge me for an extra service call until I called them and raised holy hell (and I mean HELL)...companies now just play run-around with you, and figure you'll tire out eventually.
I won't.
If things DO work properly, why don't you call me Andreas and break out those cuffs and baby oil...?
Be very careful what we--uh, I mean, YOU--wish for, Dirk...
Oh, I'm always careful, Aaron...
(And a firm believer in wishes coming true.)
It could be one of the reasons I have yet to make that call to change my telephone carrier. Dirk is a hoot with his comments.
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