We have crappy TV service. There’s nothing on, although there is a whole lot of it, and even the remote control is tragic. If you accidentally hit the wrong button there’s hell to pay to get the TV screen back in the proper corral, and it’s easy to hit the wrong button because you have to hold the remote over your head to make anything go. Also? We can’t turn the TV off without getting off our asses and walking over to it, and what century is this, anyway? What are we, acrobats?
Adventures In Service Providination
But we don’t want to change it, because we do not like change.
CenturyLink made us change anyway. They said they’re no longer offering our crappy TV service and we should look over their many fine alternatives. Really, there’s nothing I like better than calling a Service Provider on the phone, because I so rarely have anything to do for any given four-hour period.
The fine choices boiled down to having a dish bolted onto our house, which we reject on aesthetic grounds, and ATT. ATT wanted twenty bucks up front to get the ball rolling and that took a couple hours because something went wrong with the nice lady’s computer and it kept ralphing up my credit card. The nice lady was distraught and whimpery, because, I believe, she is accustomed to being screamed at, and I kept reassuring her that I was fine. I was so happy that she spoke English that I wanted to luxuriate in the experience. I don’t want to be that person who complains about people with accents, but I admit to a strong preference for it in my Service Providers. Anyway I told her I could happily listen to her all day long, and then I did.
I could have walked a twenty over to their office faster. It was my idea, ultimately, to plug in my landline and try to get the transaction through that way, and it took me a while to find the cord. It has been unplugged for four years although we still pay for it because evidently taking the landline out of the Internet-TV-Phone Bundle doesn’t make it cheaper. Basically, our landline is serving as packaging twine for our Bundle. I plugged the old workhorse in, the very same lady called me back on it, and we were in business.
Then all I had to do was wait for a new device to thud onto my front porch and plug it in, plus they were going to send over a Service Technician. I wasn’t clear what the Service Technician was going to do, but I said okay. “Okay,” the nice lady said, brightly, clearly relieved that ATT had my credit card number now, “how does Tuesday work for you?”
Quite well, thank you.
“And what time of day is good for you?”
This, as it turns out, is a little Service Provider joke. They are howling in the break room.
“Anytime after nine would be fine.”
“All right, we’ll set you up for Tuesday, with a Service Window between 9am and 5pm.”
“That’s some window,” I said.
“But no later than 7:15,” she continued.
At this point I am laughing myself snotty. I’m not sure the nice lady is used to that, but I think she wanted to keep the conversation going so she didn’t have to talk to someone mean.
The service window between nine and five but no later than 7:15 reminds me of our newspaper service. When The Oregonian went digital, they offered a sort of hybrid deal: they would deliver papers some days, and the other days would be digital only. They trumpeted this change as “Newspapers Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, with a bonus paper on Saturday!” Awesome! It’s not like we went from seven papers down to four; we get a bonus! Whoever in Marketing came up with that probably still gets a bonus just thinking about it.
Anyway, the “no later than 7:15” Service Window proved to be a bust. Tuesday came and went with no Service Technician. Two days later I got another call explaining that the technician never made it to my house but they’d be happy to send one out Monday if I wanted. Sure! When?
She had a window between nine and five. But no later than 7:15. I can’t wait. Actually, I can.