Get Off My Damn Phone
Dear Cox Communications,
You called me on my hone phone today, we were off on the wrong foot already. My home phone is something of a backup, a handy tool for when the Sprint network takes a swan dive into the Mississippi River or my older relatives want to call without using the newfangled cellurar technology.
I never use it so, when it rang, it was a surprise. But then, when I found out it was you, it almost made sense. You run the phone line, along with my Internet, and its how you contact me when you have questions.
“Is this Mr. or Mrs. Blue?” a sweet female voice rang out from the other end.
“No, this is Mr. Black, I am her significant other and the gentleman of the household, how can I help you?”
The woman on the other end balked. Since my wife and I never did the whole marriage ceremony thing, we have different last names. It’s never been a big deal for us, but I still get some amusement watching morons trip over it like it’s a great sin.
“Are you authorized on the account?” she asked.
“Yes, yes I am,” I answered honestly, thinking that, as usual, you simply needed information or it was a stupid survey.
“Then sir, I have a special offer for you,” she responded.
I knew then I had screwed up.
Used Car Salesman Tactics
Now, I’ve never had any real complaints about the speed of my cable modem, the porn downloads move just fine thank you, but I’m always up for faster and better.
But after a three-minute speech about how much better the new service was, there was no mention of the cost after three months. So, being the smart guy I sometimes am, I asked.
The woman, like a monkey staring at a calculus problem, acted as if she’d never heard that question before. She acted shocked, confused and even offended.
“That is actually a very good question sir,” she said breathlessly.
Then, with her lips moving as fast as the wind leaving her body, she explained the price increase. It wasn’t much, a trivial amount of about ten dollars, but it was clear that the “free” rate was just an introductory one.
Now I’m being sold something and now John is a very unhappy man.
How We Roll
In my relationship, we have a strict policy of respect. We don’t spend each other’s money, even a small amount, without the other’s permission. It’s a rule.
Ten dollars might seem trivial, and it is, but money is what leads to divorce, almost every time, and its the small stuff that sinks you. We even have strict spending limits for birthday presents. We respect one another’s hard work and treat each other as equals. That is how we’ve spent seven years without sleeping apart.
You might laugh at us, but you have to respect what we’ve built.
“I’m going to need to confer with my wife on this one,” I said.
“I’m sorry sir, this is a phone-only offer. You might be able to call customer service and get a similar deal but I can’t promise you they’ll have the same on.”
Now let’s pause here for a moment. Am I supposed to believe that this magic genie that just randomly called me up has a deal that no one else in the company can offer? Either I’m being lied to, you’re not serious about this offer or you’re the most incompetent idiots I’ve ever heard from. This would redefine the left hand not knowing what the right one is doing because they probably share a cubicle wall.
Bear in mind that my wife’s name is on the dammed account. Even if I agreed to it, I’m not the person who’s name is actually on the account itself. I have permission and access to if needed, like in the event of one your wonderful outages, but I sure as Hell don’t have unilateral authority here and that should be painfully obvious.
“I am going to have to confer I said, there is no way around that,” I said, keeping my cool.
“How about this, I can set it up for you and if you don’t want it you can cancel it,” she replied.
Pausing here again, that is bullshit. I’ve tried canceling Cox services before and it requires a kind of patience not seen outside of martial arts movies. You’d have a better chance canceling an AOL account while your hair was on fire and you were balancing on a ten foot pole.
I’m not about to set up an account so that i can be forced to spend hours canceling it. I do not play that game and now I am really mad because I know, without a doubt, that I am being screwed here. They are trying to corner one half of a financial team into making a deal without the other’s permission.
That is wrong.
“No, I am going to have to talk with my wife,” I said, trying to be succinct.
She then repeated something about it being a phone-only deal but I had had enough, I hung up on her and I hate hanging up on people. It goes against my very being.
I hate hanging up on people because, if I am at that point, I’m going to try and take the extra sixty seconds to tell you off properly. But I was in a hurry here. My IM chime was going off and I had work to do. You got lucky because that tape recording you were making for “my protection” was about to be filled with some very ugly words.
Remember that.
Bottom Line
What would I have said if I had had the time? Simple.
I would have calmly said that I am no longer interested in your service and that I would like to be transferred to another representative. Why? So I can cancel my phone account to prevent you morons from calling me on it again.
Sixteen mbps Internet sounds pretty good, maybe I’ll take you up on it after I calm down some. But, in the meantime, I don’t want to hear you on my phone ever again.
You call me up, in the middle of my workday, and try to bully me into a deal that I have no authority to make.
If you’re not sleeping in the backyard for me, you can go to Hell.
I pay for my phone and I don’t want to hear you on the other end of that line again unless I am calling you and you’d better have my number on an alert system because, when it calls, it will not be pretty.
Remember that and remember this, it’s no more Mr. Nice Guy.
Sincerely,
John Black
Comments
One Response to “Get Off My Damn Phone”
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I agree with you. When we pay for service, we shouldn’t have to hear the provider on the other line trying to get its customers to pay for more. That’s what the mailbox is for.
I also hate to hang up on people, no matter how much I want to, I just can’t, though. Same thing for people at the door, tell them I’m not interested, they keep going on and on, but I just can’t slam the door in their face so they finally get the hint.
Hopefully you won’t hear from Cox again!