It's been an odd month already. I spent a wonderful three days in Tampa with my most adorable Hannah last weekend (and her Mommy and Daddy) and Benjamin got me all hooked up with MyFace...er, Facebook, which I think might be kinda cool. I promise to post some terrific pictures of my trip and my baby Hannah in a much happier post tomorrow. And I promise to get excited about Facebook. But not now.
Right now, I'm feeling pretty much like my poor dashboard hula girl (photo above). She was a perky addition to my daily drive, wobbling at just the right moments and reminding me of our Hawaiian adventures even while I was stuck in traffic. But I guess the Florida sun was too much for her--we left the car parked in one of Tampa's mall parking lots for just a couple hours. When we returned, the glue that held her together had completely melted. One gentle turn out of our parking space and she sagged to starboard--another turn and she slipped sadly to the floor, trailing her grass skirt and wobbly spring behind her. Poor thing, I know just how she feels...
You see, I've had to do battle with the dreaded AT&T Customer No-service Department no less than TWO times in the past month. TWO TIMES. This is enough to drive anybody to drink and since I don't drink, it's been enough to drive me stark raving nuts. The thesis couldn't do it but AT&T certainly did.
It all started...well, let me back up. My pathological hatred of AT&T dates back many years and covers more altercations than I can cover in a single blog post. This most current round began innocently enough. About five inches of nonstop rain last month resulted in the need for my septic tank to be pumped. (Don't get me started on septic tanks or this huge house I own that has become the quintessential white elephant/albatross around my neck). Anyway, the tank needed pumping. To do this, the septic tank guys had to bring a small backhoe into my yard. The procedure went smoothly enough until they came across my phone line which some AT&T moron had laid right across the top of the tank. This isn't the first time normal maintenance of my home has resulted in a cut phone line. They laid the phone line about 3 inches under the soil right along the back of the house when it was built. Just after I moved in, a friend tried to rototill the ground around the foundation in the back yard so I could plant some flowers and the rototiller cut the line. THAT experience left me without phone service for days and the AT&T morons who came to fix it, completely tore up the brand new sod in my front yard. But I digress.
SO--after the great septic tank debacle, I had no phone, no internet, and was, of course $400 poorer for the whole septic tank repair thing. TWELVE calls to AT&T later, using my Verizon cell phone, I finally managed to get a real person on the line. For the first eleven calls I was only able to reach a recording--some sickeningly cheery woman's voice that continuously chirped, "I'll just ask you a few questions so that we can determine what is wrong with your phone" and then the line would go dead. The first few calls I managed to get past that question without losing it. Along about call number 5, I found myself screaming into the receiver, "I KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY F*&^ING PHONE, THE F*&^ING PHONE LINE IS CUT!!!" Anyway, after twelve calls, I managed to reach what I assume was a real person. This one had all the personality of a tree stump, but miracle of miracles, I was only without phone service for about 24 hours. By the time I got home from work the next day, the phone line was fixed.
But they weren't finished with me yet. Did I mention I have a Verizon cell phone now? That's the only reason I was able to call AT&T from my house--I previously had AT&T cell phone service and was only able to get a signal at my house if I stood in my bathtub and stuck my face through the window blinds. But that's a whole 'nother story. Suffice it to say that I changed cell phone providers last December to Verizon and have been blissfully happy ever since.
Until I tried to pay my final AT&T cell phone bill. I have always paid it online so I went online the day we came home with our Verizon phones and tried to pay the final bill. I was locked out of my online account. The message said that online services were only available to current customers. So I called AT&T to find out what I owed. They told me it was over $200. This is more than twice my normal bill, so I asked for an itemized bill to be sent to me. They said sure. Two weeks later, I get a single sheet bill with nothing but the total amount due, plus a few dollars because now it's late. I call again. Please send me a full itemized bill. Sure, no problem. Two weeks later, another single sheet. I call again. Can't you just allow me access to the online version, I ask? No, can't do that, but we will send you a full itemized bill. This time, I'm smart enough to at least write down the name of the idiot I spoke to. Almost a month passes. I get home from Tampa to a message on my answering machine. AT&T has sent me to a collection agency. After a most unpleasant conversation with the collection agent that concluded with him hanging up on me, (I confess, I was NOT nice on the phone) I call the collection agency a second time. This time I'm given to a supervisor who tells me quite frankly that AT&T will probably never send me a full bill but it would be best if I dealt with AT&T directly because there's nothing much they can do for me.
TWO AT&T customer disservice supervisors later, I still have no online access to my account, no full itemized bill, and no assurances that they will ever send one. By now, you've probably been reading long enough for Jimmy Buffet's "The Asshole Song" to begin playing. I apologize for that, since this is a G-rated blog, but I felt the song was just too perfect to pass up. It's my Ode to AT&T.
So yeah, I suppose I should be all excited about MyFace or SpaceFace or whatever the heck Benjamin signed me up for, but to be honest, I'm still too ticked off. Those of you who read this blog AND participate in Facebook, feel free to post your comments about your Customer Disservice experiences on my wall. In the meantime, I guess I should just be grateful that my toilets flush. Too bad I can't flush AT&T down my toilet...but ya know, that would SO be worth another $400 septic tank repair...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Southern comfort...
It doesn't snow very often in my neck of the woods--about 25 miles south of Atlanta--but when it does, it's an event. The joke is that whenever the local weather guessers predict even a sprinkling of the white stuff, every grocery store across the metropolitan area is immediately innundated with people who, for some odd reason, clean out the shelves of every carton of milk, every loaf of bread, and every case of beer. Bread. Milk. Beer. This is the mantra, apparently, of Atlantans and the required provisions for dealing with an inch or two of snow. I don't know what they do in Alaska when it snows, but I think it's safe to say that folks there don't careen wildly through the streets to the nearest Piggly Wiggly and then elbow each other out of the way to fill their grocery carts with bread, milk, and beer.
Anyway, what we Atlantans generally hope for is enough snow to cancel school and close businesses but not enough to have to shovel since none of us are ever prepared for the snowfall that we do, occasionally, get. Case in point: snow started falling this morning on my way to church. Big, fat, squishy flakes that immediately melted on my windshield. By the time I left services (early, by the way), it had switched over to serious snow and was about an inch and a half deep on every surface of my car. Do I have a snow scraper? No. Do I have waterproof outer garments or shoes? No. What I did have was a single stray CD case that Benjamin had given me with a collection of classical/church music. Out came the CD. I used the case to scrape the fluffy stuff from my windshield but by the time I got a small section cleared, the CD case disintegrated and my hands were nearly blue. (No gloves, either.) I realized too late that I should have done the passenger window as well but it was too cold to get out again. SO, like a complete and total moron, I opened the window and then tried to push the remaining sheet of snow out before it quavered slightly and then collapsed in a heap on my lap. Smooth...real smooth.
That's what we southerners do in the snow--we improvise. Bryan improvised with an aluminum coke can one wintry morning a few years ago. A couple hundred dollars (and MANY months later), Jacey ended up with a new windshield--it turns out coke cans are NOT intended for snow removal but they DO leave a lovely web of deep scratches on the glass.
SO. I'll curl up with my ancestors, some good old movies, and a few cups of cocoa this afternoon and enjoy it. It's STILL coming down and they're forecasting up to four inches by the time the storm heads on up the east coast. It really won't do me any good since I'm off tomorrow anyway. But it's fun while it lasts.
The only down side of the whole thing is what it does to the early spring vegetation here. My poor, poor daffodils!!
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