I recently had the misfortune of ordering a service upgrade from a cable provider. I suppose I must bear part of the blame. I didn’t know in some cultures, the word “upgrade” is synonymous with the word “cancel”. The company scored an almost perfect score: they screwed everything up except the billing process.
What should have been a simple modem / router swap out turned into no phone ore internet and limited cable for 3 days, 9 hours on the phone, promised discounts that haven’t occurred, and finally a service visit from a real, live human being.
Did you know your cable company does not give your phone number or address to their service technicians when they dispatch them for repairs? That was the explanation I received after waiting all day for a call to schedule service. I was told the service tech couldn’t call me, because they didn’t have my phone number. When I asked how that’s possible, since I have to enter the “phone number associated with my account” every time I talk to them, I was told the techs don’t have access to my information. I asked “If you don’t tell them where to go, and how to contact me, how do they do their jobs?” I got a stony silence on the phone.
It turned out that despite my signing up on their website and receiving a confirmation call from a bad accent, they had no records of my upgrade or service, but sure as heck knew how much they were billing me for my non-existent service.
I received an online survey about a month later. Under “comments” I wrote: Convicted terrorists should be forced to deal with your customer service as a penalty for their crimes”. Apparently, that was too subtle.
Yesterday, I received a phone call from the cable company about an upgrade I ordered, and then canceled. I told the caller the upgrade had been done, and I was being faithfully billed for it. He said, “No, I’m calling about the upgrade to XXX Street, Unit YYY.” I told him I didn’t own property at XXX Street, Unit YYY. He then insisted I give him the address of my home. I told him to be fruitful and multiply, but not in those words. Simple, yes?
So today what happens? Another survey in the email, and another phone call. They can’t keep track of my services, but boy are they interested in me. I suppose I should be grateful. Now I know where all of the people who flunk out of the Discount School for Nuclear Reactor Operators go to work.