No minutes are more supremely wasted than those spent duelling with call centers.
I suppose no one really ever feels they have enough free time, though I felt I had much more of it before parenthood filled my grid with the nutritional, emotional, educational, and hygienic needs of my offspring.
There is usually an hour or two during the day during which I can 'catch up' on the duties and chores which accompany being an adult, married homeowner: cleaning, repairs, shopping, responding to personal e-mails, actually spending time with my wife...writing, etc. In the evening, if I leave the TV off, I may recuperate another sixty minutes, though I resent butt-joining chores with bedtime; some decompression, and deep breathing is a necessity before flopping into bed and starting all over again the following morning.
So, when I waste hours, or even a couple of half-days on the phone shovelling my way through telecommunication ineptitude, it really feeds the ulcer I've resigned myself to one day developing.
A typical example:
We receive an automated message from our cable company: our cable service will be interrupted from 9am until 5pm due to a network upgrade. Great, I love a network which is up to grade.
7:30pm: Still no service. I can do without TV for an evening, or longer, but I always assume the worst: that we have been forgotten in the web of wires and fibre optics which services the neighbourhood, and we will never have cable service again. So, I call, and after entering my phone number, and date of birth into the automated system:
"What is your name? Your phone number? Date of birth?" Did I not just enter this information electronically? "What seems to be the problem?..Sorry sir, they are still working on the lines, it will be back up by 7am tomorrow"
Fine. I can live with that.
9am: Still no service. From a TV viewers perspective, I don’t really care - I don't watch daytime TV, and anyway, I don't get OWN as part of my cable package; without Oprah, what's the point?.. BUT! Now it's becoming a matter of principle. So, I call, and after I enter my phone number and date of birth into the automated system:
"What is your name? Your phone number? Date of birth? What seems to be the problem?"
Me: "You're kidding, right? Not only did I just enter this information into the automated system, I had this exact conversation with a colleague of yours a little more than twelve hours ago." I relay the whole story, explaining we still have no service.
Them: "Hmm...Let me transfer you. Please hold."
Holding. Kids coming home in an hour...free time slowly being bled from me by Evil Corporation...patience dwindling...
Another person comes on the line:
"What seems to be the problem?"
I tell him.
"What is your name? Your phone number? Date of birth?"
I lose it...then I calm down until:
"According to what I see in front of me, sir, your system is functioning just fine."
I lose it again. Just fine?! I say, just fine!?!?
You supply me with my home phone, cable, and internet, none of which are working. If I were a penguin, the subject of an Antarctic documentary, I would be just fine. But instead, I'm someone paying you a healthy monthly sum for services which do not exist...”I'm NOT FINE! And NOTHING'S WORKING."
"One moment, please...
"Sir? We are going to send someone to your residence to have a look at the line. You will not be charged for this visit."
I explain that had they tried to charge me for this visit, I would have an aneurysm only slightly more irritating than the ulcer I'd yet to develop.
Time to pickup the kids.
6:45pm: That evening, my daughter, over supper, asks why there is a man with a ladder in our backyard? We all pile outside as he's climbing down from the pole on the edge on the property.
"So?" I ask...knowing complicated problems often have simple solutions.
"Wasn't screwed in properly."
Of course.
Should I waste your time, Dear Reader, with my follow-up conversation requesting a reimbursement for my cell phone minutes used to rectify this situation while my home phone was out of commission?
Nah, No one's got that kind of time.
Long live rabbit ears.
Comments