Posted in STFU Friday, Uncategorized | Posted on 20-05-2010
Everyone knows, once you cavort with the mob, you can’t get out. Just like….cell phone companies. There’s NO.WAY.OUT.
What’s a girl to do when her muffin top’s against the wall?
Short backstory, here are the deets you need to know:
1. AT & T Wireless are thugs. (But you could insert any cell phone carrier in place of AT & T….they all work in collusion with their contractual chokeholds on us gabbers.)
2. My *new* cell phone does not work in my home. At all. If the power goes out and I have an emergency, it’s looking like smoke signals or Campbell’s soup cans on a string. Comforting.
3. Got the phone for the internet technology, but the one email carrier not preloaded is… mine, gmail. Craptastic!
4. In order to get gmail on phone, I need to do some probably elementary things that as a techno loser, I’m completely and admittedly incapable of.
So… I’d been meaning to call AT&T Wireless to see if we could work something out. I found myself in the parking lot of Costco (because you all know I love me some shopping in bulk) 30 minutes before opening time. (Seriously Costco, 10 AM? I thought you were gonna need riot police when I saw the line of hausfraus and old folk snaked out to the parking lot at 9:55–time to push up the opening or else someone’s getting mowed down by a Lark. Just saying.) Anyway, I had some time to kill, the kids had party snacks, so I thought I’d ring them up.
The customer service rep answers, I tell her everything about me including my social and blood type, then quickly run down 1-4 and tell her the gentleman I ordered crap phone from said if I wasn’t completely happy, I could exchange it for something different.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ve had the phone more than 30 days, so you can’t exchange it. And you need to go to gmail and get the pop 3 blabbity blah and download it and you’ll be all set.” ???????
“Pop what? I don’t even know what that is. I ordered this phone to make my life easier! I can’t use it at home. And I can’t check my email!” Isn’t she aware that I’m a VERY IMPORTANT Executive Hausfrau and Chief Muffin Top, and when I’m out and about, it’s essential to my success that I have unlimited access to vital emails regarding: follow up comments on Facebook status updates, time sensitive intel (read: shoe sales) at 6pm.com and Lands’ End, and pressing media requests? (Okay, I made up media requests. You didn’t have to snort so loudly though. Geez.)
“Well, you can call gmail and get it. Or you can consult with Samsung, the maker of the phone.” LIAR. LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE! LLPOF! Butterflies will fly out of my arse before I call gmail and get to chat with them. “Hi, Bill Gates, I know you’re into charity, so can you help a sister out? Can you please give me the pop 3 code for my crap ass phone and then install it? Thanks! Give my regards to Warren Buffet and your other bazillionaire peeps.”
“Excuse me? So you’re saying I can call gmail up, just like that? Really?”
“Yes. You need to just call gmail.” AND YOU NEED TO EAT THIS BIG OLD STFU SAMMIE! LIAR!
“Um, how about NO THANK YOU, and how about you take this phone back and give me one that’s easier to use. Please.”
I have manners you know.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t do that. You are outside your thirty day buyer’s remorse window, and you are not eligible for another phone upgrade until 2012.”
2012?! By then someone will be swimming with the fishes if I still have this phone.
“But I JUST got this one and I DO have buyer’s remorse. It doesn’t WORK in my house and I am not into pop 3′ing it! Can I please speak to your supervisor?” I need the Don. Where’s the Don when you need him? I have an Italian last name, too. Does that count for nothing? I can never be made though. I’m Irish. Like Henry Hill from Goodfellas. Damn.
“Yes. Please hold.” …for all of eternity. Eight minutes later, after they’ve probably had coffee and doughnuts and mocked my refusal to hang up, the supervisor gets on where he proceeds to speak in corporate gobblty gook circles for twenty minutes.
”I understand how you feel, many customers have felt the same was as you, but then they found once they called and we worked toward a solution for success, they were happy.” Listen DBAG, I went to sales training 101, and your “Feel/felt/found” BS ain’t gonna work on me. Thanks for playing! As my wise father always says, “You can’t shit a shitter!” (We’re an eloquent bunch.)
I then patiently answer all his questions including, “What is your house made of?” Now that one really stumped me. “What is my house made of?’ I’m pretty sure toothpicks and glue— you know how these builders cut corners these days. What does that have to do with my crap ass phone and Bill Gates?
I heard all about how when he lived in his dorm a few years ago, the signal wasn’t good because of 900 mhz intereference. Ok, I mean, I know I live in a frat house, but this ain’t no dorm.
I listened to him say he wanted me to be “completely satisfied” and that he wanted to “work for success on my behalf”. He offered to email me a tutorial. And finally, he said the cell coverage in my area was indeed only moderate (not better, best or excellent, which means, it sucks), and virtually nonexistant at my address. And I could feel him recoiling when I suggested he go outside the thirty day window and just take the damn phone back. Where’s the super in supervisor, dude, if you can’t make some big D decisions without the gobblity gook playbook?
“Ma’am! There are policies and procedures and policies..and, and…we just can’t do that here at AT & T–I can’t do that!”
He acted? Like I asked him to whack someone. He did!
“Ok, sir, let me review. I’ve now been on the phone with you for thirty minutes. This call has not been a ‘success.’ In the past thirty minutes, I’ve answered your incessent questions. You know my social security number, my address, the cross streets in my neighborhood, what my house is made of, and what I had for breakfast, and this is what you’ve told me: My cell coverage will not improve unless you build a new tower, I’m stuck with a phone I’m not satisfied with because I’m a few weeks over my buyer’s remorse policy, and I’m to call gmail if I ever want to get my emails. You told me everything I already knew and told YOU at the beginning of this call. So, I’m hanging up now and I will be sending you…………..”
THE FRIDAY STFU SAMMIE!
Take heed, kids, before you get in with the mob. Think it through!