Okay, I learned how to spell aneurysm. This is good, because if it were to happen, I would want whoever was writing about it to know how to spell it correctly. And also to note on my tombstone that I died trying to save a busload of orphaned children from an attack of Zombie Nazis. Because suffering grievous brain injury to self is not as cool as saving the orphans.
Okay, so yesterday, I attempt to call the tech, using the same number that I had used before to call him. To schedule an appointment. To see if he had gotten his car out, and would be making an attempt to actually fix my computer. This would be an uncomplicated procedure that any jackass with a screwdriver and a passing technical knowledge could do in ten minutes, perhaps an hour or so more if they were actually going to have to reinstall the OS for me. It’s a SATA drive, so you don’t have to even set jumpers. You just plug in power, and one cable to the motherboard. I could do it with my eyes closed, but apparently “Prell” has to involve a technician. Anyway, I call the guy’s number, only to find out that this guys phone, the primary point of his contact with me, has been disconnected. At this point, a lot of stuff goes through my head, including “poor guy, lost his phone service” and “he didn’t call me before, how will I call him?” I had a work meeting upcoming, so I didn’t do anything right away that morning. I figured that I would call Prell, since they probably had better contact information, and they would light a fire under his ass. When I finally got out of my four hour meeting, I decided I would call Prell customer service. Surely they could help me. They were so nice and helpful before, surely it would be the same.
So, I call Prell support. I’m just going to break this call down by time from here on in. Time is now in excruciating, sphinchter clenchingly frustrating minutes.
0:00-~10:00: After navigating through a truly asinine menu that takes forever to get to a human, I finally got into the “I’m going on hold” music, waiting for a real person. After about 10 minutes, I get an (obviously Indian) voice, saying “Hello, my name is Jenny, can I help you”. I talk for about half a second, and then I get put back on hold. No warning, no chance to say my peace, just that damn hold meeting.
10:00-25:00: Not knowing whether I have been put back on hold or dumped out, I wait for another 5 minutes. An American voice picks up, basically asking what I am doing on the line, because I’m not supposed to be routed there. I give my call number, and customer number, and case number, and am routed to another department. I keep waiting.
25:00-35:00: Finally, someone answers. Another Indian woman, who said that her name something like Mary or Alice. First of all, It’s insulting to our intelligence to pretend that you’re American by using an American name. We all know tech support and customer service is outsourced to India. I don’t mind, as long as you can help me. But it’s a breach of trust to lie and say that your name is something that it is obviously not. It’s as if I were to make sales calls, and claim that my name is Amanda Huggenkiss. Not only am I not a fucking woman, but there is no one named Amanda Huggenkiss. (If I am wrong, I hope that the Amanda Huggenkisses of the world accept my humble apologies. In fact, please convey my apologies to the entire Huggenkiss family.) It’s not your name. Just use your new name. I promise that I will not make fun of your name, or say “what kind of a name is that?”, and I will do my very best to pronounce it correctly.
But I digress. I patiently explain to this woman that I am waiting to hear back from the technician. I give her my number, and explain that this is the second time I have had to do this. Dissatisfaction is dripping from my voice like poison honey. This is all lost on MaryAlice, who proceeds to put me on hold for five minutes look up the shipment of the hard drive, and note that the technician picked it up that day. I patiently explain to her that I know this, that I can check up on the status of the package too, and that I am trying to get a hold of the technician. She puts me on hold again, presumably to check something. She then tells me that she is transferring me to another rep, who will be able to handle my service questions. She then tells me that she will write me an email memorializing our interaction. It is worth noting, at this point, that the name on the email is “Preethi.” So, she transfers me again.
35:00-50:00: I am on hold again. While I try to work (I am at work), the anger-based- aneurysm begins to develop. Veins in my forehead begin to throb visibly.
50:00-52:00: I am connected the person who is supposed to specialize in service calls. “Joseph” answers the phone. He immediately asks me what the problem is with my computer. I explain to him, briefly, that the hard drive has crashed. He, in turn attempts to begin the repair tree. This guy is obviously not a customer service rep. MaryAlice, due to a limited grasp of English that doesn’t follow the preprogrammed call script, has transferred me to technical support. I realize that this guy is trying to troubleshoot my computer, which is beyond troubleshooting. So, I explain that I was trying to check up on a service call. Twice.
52:00-1:05:00: Joseph finally gets that I don’t need troubleshooting. To his credit, he can handle my request. He takes my information, and checks up on the service record. I tell him my story, that I am concerned that I can’t contact the tech, and that this is the second time I have had to call Prell directly. At this point, you can think of my mind as the Hoover Dam. A seething pool of pressure and anger is building up behind a relatively thick concrete wall of social decency and politeness. The only thing keeping the dam from bursting is that this guy probably doesn’t deserve to be unloaded on. The dam is showing signs of stress, though. Joseph doesn’t help things when he tells me that the vendor records indicate that they tried unsuccessfully to contact me on the 15th, 16th (essentially every day) without success. At this point, a tiny crack opens in the dam. He says “if you aren’t around to be contacted, how can they set up an appointment?” As if it is somehow my fault. Losing my patience, I explain to him that that is total fucking bullshit. I make sure that he has all of my contact information, Cell, home, and work numbers. I tell Joseph that I will be at work until 8:00EST, then I will be home. I tell him I will be home at around 9:00. This is for purposes of contact. Joseph tells me that he doesn’t expect that the technician would be able to come out at 9:00pm. Well la-di-fucking-dah. I knew that. It was so they could call me tonight to set up a time. These jokers only work from 9-5, thus ensuring the maximum possible amount of inconvenience. Seeing as I am required to be at work from 8:30-5:30, at the least, there is no way that I don’t have to take off time.
I tell him this, using much less obscene language than I would have liked to. It’s a curse, generally being cool and polite on the phone. Plus. I am not sure he would appreciate the cursing, or fully understand the “colorful idioms” that I would use.” I then detail each time I spoke to the tech. Again, I have to repeat myself, before he gets it that I am saying that the technicians are liars, who are lying to cover their ass so they won’t get in trouble with Prell. So, he decides to call them, while conferencing me in, but telling me not to talk. That he will handle it. I agree, because at this point, large cracks are appearing in the dam, and rage is silently spraying out. Also, Jack Bauer is fighting Chuck Norris atop the dam. they are both losing to Carrot Top.
1:05:00-1:10:00: Joseph calls the technician’s company. He now identifies himself as “Neil”. Honestly, do they just pick a new name out of a hat whenever they call someone? He gets a person on the line, who I can barely hear. But I know that voice. It’s that same damn tech! Chunks of concrete begin to fall off the dam. Then “Neil” just starts laying into the guy. He points out that it is more than a week late. It’s supposed to be next day, or at the most, three days. (As of now, it is 8 days, I think). the tech says some bullshit excuse that I don’t hear clearly. “Neil” says that he doesn’t care. It has to be done, and soon. The cracks and holes in the dam begin to patch themselves. Neil demands to know when they will come. I hear “Friday”. Cracks begin to reappear. “Neil” hangs up on the technician. Cracks spread a little.
1:10:00-1:13:00: “Neil” cheerfully informs me that they will be there on Friday. It is obvious that he considers this all successfully resolved. “When on Friday, I ask?” I think it’s a reasonable question. Seeing as I will now have to take time off so that this jackass can do his repair, I feel I should be able to plan my day. He tells me that they’ll call me to set it up. I ask when. He says Thursday, or Friday. So, I am supposed to trust that these ass-backward technicians, who already show a talent and a flair for 1: saying that they will be there when they won’t, and 2: avoiding customer calls, will call me exactly as advertised, and that I should just take time off on Friday. Not that he gives a good goddamn about me anyway, but this is somewhat grating as my whole problem has been that the technician wouldn’t call me unless I was threatening to sodomize his family pet and put sugar in his gas tank. So, I ask for assurances.
1:13:00-1:18:00: “Neil” suddenly tells me “don’t worry. They’ll call you.” I can’t really describe the tone he was using, but it was like a combination of a used car salesman telling me to trust him, a surfer dude who is trying very hard to make himself seem like my friend, and a parent reassuring a slightly mentally challenged child that the tooth fairy was the one who left that dollar under their pillow. It’s the kind of “trust me” that mentally translates to “bend over, you fucking idiot.” So, I don’t like his tone, and I don’t trust the techs to call me back. Or show up. You can bet that If the guy ever shows up, I will be watching everything he does like a hawk, so that he doesn’t accidentally further fuck up my computer. “Neil” gets points for laying into the tech, but the technician’s reservoir of trust is long since dried up. Replaced by the lake o’rage. So, before “Neil” steamrolls me into hanging up, I make sure that he gives me the proper contact information for the tech company, and all the info I’ll need. Because I’ll be damned if I am waiting for them to call me, Then, using my frostiest manner, as he tries to get my ass of the phone, I make sure that everything is written down, inform him that I am not happy, but that if it gets fixed, everything will be fine. He probably gets paid to minimize call time, anyway, so keeping him on is sticking it to him a little bit. Also, I have now been on the phone or on hold for one hour and 18 minutes, and I don’t want to be on the fucking phone anymore.
So, now it’s Thursday, I am waiting for the tech company to call me, because basically, I am going to have to wait and work up some righteous anger. this blog tends to take it all out of me.
Anyway, the dam status: Filled, but not, at the moment, cracking. The citizens below, in the Las Vegas of Josh’s overextended metaphor, are safe for now. But there’s always later today. Who knows?
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