![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Bad technology karma
Oct. 4th, 2003 12:22 pmOn Thursday evening while I was typing a reply to somebody's comment on LJ, one of the electrical circuits in the house went out. Fortunately the landlord was here when it happened. We found an emergency number, he called, and an electrician showed up within half an hour, but the problem was in the outside service line.
"Fuck," he said. "It's going to be one of those nights. I was looking forward to a relaxing evening."
He called Guelph Hydro and told them what was up, to hurry their asses.
"Tell the boys George wants to watch the game," he said to the dispatcher.
We waited another hour for Guelph Hydro to arrive.
Within a couple hours everything was fixed.
Friday at 2:30 p.m. while I was typing a reply to somebody's comment on LJ, my phone went dead, taking internet service with it. When I picked up the receiver there was not a sound, not a whisper.
Joanne in the florist shop downstairs let me use the phone to call Sprint, which provides my local, long distance and internet service. It took about 10 minutes to navigate the convoluted customer service messages. I can't understand why they offer service lines in both English and Française, but as soon as you connect, you get a voice saying, "For service in English, press one. Pour service la-la la-la la-la deux."
Anyway, it took me a while, but I finally talked to a human being named Veronica. She told me she had to fill out a repair ticket. They had to check the line first to see whether it was really dead. If it was, they would call me back to arrange for a repair person to come out. My line would be fixed within 24 hours. For a contact number I gave Veronica the florist shop, but told her it would be closed between 6 p.m. and 10 a.m.
Shortly after 10 this morning I popped my head into the store, but Joanne hadn't heard from Sprint, so I called them back. I tried the English Repair Service line instead of Customer Service, but got the same convoluted maze of buttons to press. Finally I reached a human named Melissa. All these service employees must have second jobs mailing Viagara spam.
Melissa said, "Let me put you on hold for a moment while I read the notes."
Then I got to listen to five minutes of Classical music.
"Sorry for the wait," said Melissa. "He's working on it today, but if it isn't fixed today it will be fixed on Monday."
What? Time to raise hell.
"That's ridiculous!" I said, letting my voice rise slightly. "I had many reasons for switching from Bell, but let me tell you, if I needed repairs they would have been out here right away."
"It's a Bell service employee who has to do the repairs," she said apologetically.
"If it isn't fixed today I will seriously consider taking my business elsewhere."
"That's understandable," she said. "All I can say is, he is working on it today."
I hung up. I decided to check my voice mail while I was downstairs. I had received a message from the repairman on my own dead line, asking whether or not it was recently installed. He left a number to call. I tried calling it. It was not in service.
But within 20 minutes of the customer service rep getting bawled out by me, the repairman showed up at my door. Upstairs he stuck a meter in my phone jack.
"It certainly is dead," he marvelled.
"It's dead, is it?" I said.
He went outside and tampered with the service line for 10 minutes. By 11:15 I had phone service.
When she told me it might not be fixed until Monday, I might easily have responded with a complacent, "Okay." But I hadn't had any coffee yet this morning, and that made all the difference. Sometimes grumpiness pays.
"Fuck," he said. "It's going to be one of those nights. I was looking forward to a relaxing evening."
He called Guelph Hydro and told them what was up, to hurry their asses.
"Tell the boys George wants to watch the game," he said to the dispatcher.
We waited another hour for Guelph Hydro to arrive.
Within a couple hours everything was fixed.
Friday at 2:30 p.m. while I was typing a reply to somebody's comment on LJ, my phone went dead, taking internet service with it. When I picked up the receiver there was not a sound, not a whisper.
Joanne in the florist shop downstairs let me use the phone to call Sprint, which provides my local, long distance and internet service. It took about 10 minutes to navigate the convoluted customer service messages. I can't understand why they offer service lines in both English and Française, but as soon as you connect, you get a voice saying, "For service in English, press one. Pour service la-la la-la la-la deux."
Anyway, it took me a while, but I finally talked to a human being named Veronica. She told me she had to fill out a repair ticket. They had to check the line first to see whether it was really dead. If it was, they would call me back to arrange for a repair person to come out. My line would be fixed within 24 hours. For a contact number I gave Veronica the florist shop, but told her it would be closed between 6 p.m. and 10 a.m.
Shortly after 10 this morning I popped my head into the store, but Joanne hadn't heard from Sprint, so I called them back. I tried the English Repair Service line instead of Customer Service, but got the same convoluted maze of buttons to press. Finally I reached a human named Melissa. All these service employees must have second jobs mailing Viagara spam.
Melissa said, "Let me put you on hold for a moment while I read the notes."
Then I got to listen to five minutes of Classical music.
"Sorry for the wait," said Melissa. "He's working on it today, but if it isn't fixed today it will be fixed on Monday."
What? Time to raise hell.
"That's ridiculous!" I said, letting my voice rise slightly. "I had many reasons for switching from Bell, but let me tell you, if I needed repairs they would have been out here right away."
"It's a Bell service employee who has to do the repairs," she said apologetically.
"If it isn't fixed today I will seriously consider taking my business elsewhere."
"That's understandable," she said. "All I can say is, he is working on it today."
I hung up. I decided to check my voice mail while I was downstairs. I had received a message from the repairman on my own dead line, asking whether or not it was recently installed. He left a number to call. I tried calling it. It was not in service.
But within 20 minutes of the customer service rep getting bawled out by me, the repairman showed up at my door. Upstairs he stuck a meter in my phone jack.
"It certainly is dead," he marvelled.
"It's dead, is it?" I said.
He went outside and tampered with the service line for 10 minutes. By 11:15 I had phone service.
When she told me it might not be fixed until Monday, I might easily have responded with a complacent, "Okay." But I hadn't had any coffee yet this morning, and that made all the difference. Sometimes grumpiness pays.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
leafshimmer