||[Aug. 16th, 2009|11:38 am]
I have a new phone. Somehow I manage to activate the voice command thing whenever I bend over and it's in my pocket. So, there I was, walking through CVS and my pocket is pleading: "Please say a command." "Say a command now." "Please say a command." And my hands are full so there's not a damn thing I can do about except smile at the people who are wondering why my hip is pleading with me. |
It was NOT easy getting a new phone. And if you think you had a bad week...
While I can be accused of exaggerating a bit for the sake of a good story...the last two days have reached such a height of absurdity, that no exaggeration is necessary. As one of my favorite comedians/humorists, Will Durst says "You can't make UP stuff this good."
So, The Captain's phone went AWOL, so we used my upgrade to get him a new phone. Sure the hinge on my phone was broken, so if I flipped it open too fast, or fumbled, I'd sort of decapitate it a little. But we get another upgrade in October, so I joked with the guy at the Rockville Pike Verizon store that I'd just nurse it along until then. (It would have been nice for him to mention that they could fix it...but...he didn't.)
Naturally, the other night, since the phone to my hand is like a watermelon seed in a watermelon seed spitting contest and when I pulled it out of my purse, it went flying out of my hand like Grandpappy's best record-breaking spit....and threw itself against the wall like a bird against a plate glass window. And like a bird against a plate glass window...it's neck finally snapped. And I had a two piece phone.
(That paragraph has been condemned by the Metaphor and Analogy Commission.)
So, off I head to the Rockville Pike Verizon store...determined to get an early upgrade because the phone was a piece of crapola. Figuring that if three of my colleagues got upgraded two weeks early just so they could get the new Blackberry on the day it came out, I could get one for a non-functioning phone.
Ah, sweet innocence. After fuming for fifteen minutes watching various employees wandering around chatting with each other, I get a sullen young man named Devon. Who looks at my account and says "Can't help you, you don't get an upgrade until October, that will be $XXX to get a new phone."
I negotiate multi-million dollar contracts for a living. I have tools and methods. Although, I'm finding they mostly work on people who have a functioning IQ and actually want to do business with me.
So finally he relents and says he can't do anything to help me, but I could call customer service. And I hold up the dead phone and say "okay, how do I do that?" So, with a heavy sigh, he laboriously punches the numbers into his phone and hands the receiver to me.
Lovely man on the phone says "well, we can send you a phone but it will have to be mailed so you won't get it until next week. But the store should be able to take care of this for you. Tell them to write up the ticket and submit it to the credit committee and they should approve it."
Naturally, as soon as I hang up and explain it to Mr. Sullen, his answer is "I don't know what he's talking about. We can't do anything except sell you a new phone at full price."
To keep myself from either being arrested for homicide, or teaching the children in the store a whole new bucket of words, I just turned and left. Figured I'd call from work.
Ah, but there's the rub. Despite me having all sorts of pertinent information that only I could have, including being able to tell the customer service person verbatim what the notes on my account said...I did not know my billing password, so they couldn't help me. Hint? No, m'am, we don't give out hints. So, how exactly am I supposed to ever get you guys to talk to me?
We'll call back on your phone to verify that it's you. Yeah, okay BUT THE F-ING PHONE IS BROKEN, THAT'S WHY I'M CALLING YOU! (Not to mention, how can they tell I'm not a stranger who just happens to have picked up my phone? I mean, I can give them all sorts of data on my account, verify all sorts of things that a stranger would NOT know. But any yutz could answer my phone and they'd give said yutz access to my account.)
So the only thing to do is to go into a Store where they can verify my ID. So, I go to the Rockville Town Center store, because I will NEVER go into the Rockville Pike store, even if it's the last bastion of electronic communication. Give me the tin cans and string, if it comes to THAT. And they're actually just lovely. And interestingly enough, this store's manager has no trouble calling customer service and convincing them to move up my upgrade.
So, there I am, new phone, old phone popped into the recycle bin and one happy camper.
Try to head home a little early, 'cause we're having a guest for dinner. And I get home to find that Percy has had a really, really, really bad day -- Poo Shoe doubled. Which would be bad enough, except that the Captain's having train issues, so he's going to be late. So, I'm frantically trying to de-crap the house and our guest shows up a half an hour early.
And there I am, hair askew, holding a plastic bag of poo-related cleanup in one hand, poo-covered laundry in the other hand and I greet him with "Didn't Brad tell you 7:30?!" like some evil Martha Stewart in the alternate universe. All I missing was a perfectly manicured Van Dyke. I ask him to chill on the deck while I get him a soda. When I come inside, I step right into a pile of cat vomit. As I'm cleaning that up, Phoebe throws up twice more. And I think "it always takes longer to clean up than it does to make the mess. If someone comes in an hour from now, will I be a crazed lunatic, still mopping up cat puke or will the cat run out of puke before I disassociate from reality?" Luckily for us all, the cat ran out of puke, the guest went to go pick up the Captain and some fine steaks and lots of laughs made up for the bad beginning.
But still: exhausted both mentally and physically.
The next morning, we go over to rent a car for the day because we're both heading in different, non-public transport directions. And of course, despite reservations, there's no car. So they drive us to another location. And I call into work with my newly charged phone....except they failed to transfer my old phone's information. And you remember in the previous paragraph where the old phone went into the recycle bin...
Luckily, they had not sent out the recycling yet. So, they obligingly dug it out, I went back and NOW finally, I have an operating phone. Albeit a submissive one.