Oh how I hate thee,
Thy stupid asshat of a company.
Oh how I hate thee,
Thy annoying, useless customer care operators.
Oh how I loathe thee,
Thy spineless, pretentious supervisor.
But oh how I love thee,
Thy wonderful cable man who gave me back my Internet and credited me money.
Can I tell you, no Internet and no TV for five days—enough to make the insider spit some nails.
When I left home, we set up a seasonal disconnect and I was told that when I got back, I should call and they’d come out and take the disconnect off the line.
I called Saturday. On Monday, someone came out, decided that something was wrong with a grounding wire and left—without a) knocking on the door, b) giving me a call or c) leaving a note.
Two hours later, after I got home from work, I called Evil Minion Co. and asked why my Internet wasn’t working.
“There was something wrong with your grounding wire and so we need to set up an appointment. You need to be there, and how’s a couple of days from now?”
“Um, no. First, why didn’t he knock? Someone was here. Second, why wasn’t I called and told about the problem? And third, a couple of days—are you kidding me.”
This went on with her, a technician, a sales rep and a supervisor—ALL were ASSHATS.
Finally an appointment was set up for today, between 1PM and 3PM.
So, at 130PM I called Evil Minion Co. and asked them for an ETA.
“Oh, he’s at a stop now and you’re next.”
Alright, that’s fine.
At 258PM, I called again.
“I can’t file to talk to the dispatch until he’s late—and it’s not 3PM yet.”
“OK sure ::doodoodoo:: hmm, my clock says 3PM—what does yours say?”
“Well yes, now I can file.”
——Dear sweet mother of mercy, are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?!
A few minutes pass while I’m on hold…
“OK, he should be there in less than 20 minutes.”
4PM
An hour has now passed. I have started drinking vodka and I’m still putting together a damn armoire from uber-insane IKEA. (Mind you, due to anger and drinking, I’ve managed to: nail the back onto the front—thereby leaving holes down the front, put the top and bottom on backward, pinch my finger, cut my foot and gain two blisters.
I call them back.
“He’s not there yet? Well huh. I can’t imagine why.”
“Listen, neither can I. Look, if he doesn’t come today, I swear to god I’m switching to [other cable company].”
“Oh now he’ll definitely be there today—hopefully very soon.”
415PM heralds the arrival of the cable guy.
He parked, popped his ladder, climbed up to the pole, took off the disconnect and LO AND BEHOLD, Internet and cable.
All in less than five minutes.
He came inside and I explained what I had been told—and he rolled his eyes, shook his head and apologized profusely.
“It was probably a contractor who came out here—I’ll look at your grounding wire and ground it if I need too.”
Later he said he was giving me a $20 credit for being late and agreed that the Evil Minion Co. where he worked sucks. Apparently they had sent him out on X number of runs today and doublebooked him on almost every single one.
I might have called them asshats and I told him that I was literally two seconds away from switching companies—I had just gotten off the phone with their sales rep getting a quote.
“Well I’m glad I made it here in time. It’d be awful hard to ‘pretend’ to come fix your cable if you aren’t with my company anymore.”
Then he winked and told me to have a good day.
And that, people, is how a disastrous, irritating day from hell becomes a fraction less disastrous.
Well, that, a double vodka, The Unit and a perfect (kinda) new armoire.
