Dear Charter, I Hate You

The problems began five days ago, on Tuesday. I got home from work and checked the messages on my land line and found the usual couple of robocalls. Sometimes they’re from earnest politicians who urgently need my vote, sometimes they’re contractors apparently unaware that my recent annual raises of just one percent to two percent have been nuked into oblivion by price surges with all my necessities:  heating oil, groceries, real estate taxes, gas, beer, wine, gym membership. Every now and then it’s a thick-accented voice  -- Ghana? Russia? Colombia? -- telling me I’ve won a condo, car, or a bajillion dollars and need to call back fast, like yesterday, to confirm my blood type, credit card, third cousin on my mother’s side’s middle name. 

I finally took some action. Did what I’d been reminding myself to do for months now. I called my local cable company, Charter, to cancel my landline. I have better things to spend that $19.99 on I told the young guy on the other end of the phone. 

He asked if I really truly honestly wanted to lose the line. I admitted that my elderly parents sometimes forget to call my cell phone number. That’s the only reason I’d held onto the landline for so long, but the last few months they’d gotten better at leaving messages at both numbers. 

The kid asked if I’d hold onto my line if he could get me a discount on my entire bill. 

I said yeah, that would be great. 

He looked up my account information and his voice got all rushed and high. He was obviously quite excited.

“Ma’am, because you’ve been a Charter customer for nigh on twenty years, I can lower your bill by twenty dollars AND let you keep your phone.” 

He was so happy I couldn’t bring myself to use the mean voice I reserve especially for those who call me ma’am. I said that would be great and by all means go ahead and change that gosh darn bill so I could start saving. 

That young ‘un was so happy. I couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy. I’d made his day. 

An hour later, the internet went out and in the five days since, I have developed a close and personal relationship with Charter’s computerized telephone lady, that bitch. 

Tuesday I was patient. I listened to her whole message and even answered yes and no to her 50,000 yes and no questions. Since Wednesday, though, around my fourth call, our conversations started to go something like this. 

Welcome to Charter. . .

CUSTOMER SERVICE

How can I. . . 

BITCH. I said CUSTOMER SERVICE. 

Okay, let me see if I can help you. First. . . 

JESUS CHRIST WILL YOU JUST FUCKING GET ME CUSTOMER SERVICE

For sales press one, for internet, press two. . .

TWO! AGENT AGENT AGENT AGENT AGENT AGENT AGENT 

Thanks! Let me connect you to an agent. . .

How does one go from mild-mannered client to psycho nutcase? 

It doesn’t take all that much. In fact, you can become a nutcase too. Start by calling to cancel phone service. That, apparently, is when the magic starts to kick in. My service was fine until that nice phone call with that sweet young man. 

Wednesday

Rushed home from work. Tech guy was waiting. We enter the house and discover that the internet, out the entire evening, is working. He fiddles around with some cords for about 15 minutes. We talk about the school system in his town. He leaves.  

Half hour later, the internet goes out. I immediately call customer service. I am still polite. Customer service says the tech is still in the area. She’s going to have him turn around. She assures me that he will be back. 

I wait an hour. I call again. No record of my previous call. I explain situation. Customer service rep seems to have some internal processing issue, because she starts asking me questions I’ve already answered. I ask for her boss. I wait five minutes. The boss apologizes and says someone from dispatch will call me right back. 

I wait another hour and call back. It’s about now that I realized being polite to a computer wasn’t getting me anywhere. The magic key that opens the customer service door? At the top of your lungs yell: AGENT AGENT AGENT. I add in lots of swear words too. I’m not sure if the swearing helps or not, but damn, it feels so good.  It’s now 7:30. I’ve been waiting four hours now for the tech to return. 

I get another young guy on the phone who tells me no one will be out that night. Gee whiz. Sorry. He sets an appointment for the next day. I ask to speak to his boss. I wait. I tell the boss exactly what I think of Charter. I speak to him as though he is the most vapid answering machine in the world, except I leave out the word AGENT. 

Thursday

I re-arrange my life to be home for the tech. He takes a look at my equipment, another look at my account information, and announces that I need a new modem and router because I switched plans on Tuesday. I tell him there’s some mistake. All that was switched was the billing. I. Did. Not. Switch. Plans. 

He tells me that, in fact, I did. Surprise! On top of that, my old equipment doesn’t work with the new plan. I point out that Wednesday’s tech didn’t mention anything like that. 

He shrugs and says he doesn’t know why the guy didn’t tell me, but I absolutely need new equipment. He tells me he can put in the new stuff quickly, no worries. And I’m aware that the new router will cost $45, plus an additional five bucks a month, right? 

Even I am impressed by the variety and richness of the swear words that erupt from my mouth, because no, I was not aware of any of this.  After the verbal diarrhea subsides, I explain that when I changed plans on Tuesday, it was to SAVE money, not spend more. I wasn’t given a service upgrade. I was getting a price cut. 

The guy shrugged. He said sorry, but I was given poor information. 

Ya think?????

Luckily, he got Charter to pay the initial $45. But still, now my monthly savings would go down from $20 a month $15, due to the new five buck fee.  

Friday

Every morning, I dutifully read my work email before I leave the house. I also check the local newspaper to see what latest absurdity our inept local leaders have managed to embroil themselves in. I read facebook, my home email, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Buzzfeed, Cracked, any new videos that make fun of Kanye West, gun addicts, poor spellers, the NFL. 

Five minutes into my daily morning schadenfreudefest, the internet dies. A half hour phone call and much restarting of the computer later, it’s back. I get home and use it for an hour or so. Then it goes out.  

Today

Turns out my new equipment, the machinery they needed to install because I have a new plan because I called to drop my phone service? Well, it’s defective. 

Luckily, I used up just a tiny portion of my morning to get this figured out. Only two hours and twenty minutes. 

Though Charter agrees that the error is on their end, though Charter deeply apologizes for turning my connectivity inside out for the last five days all because I wanted to save some money and drop my phone, though Charter understands that I am greatly inconvenienced, no one can get out to my house to replace the defective equipment until tomorrow. 

So, to use my internet today, I have to unplug the Ethernet cord from the router, and replug it into my laptop. Which means I get to sit on a box in my dark damp smellar I mean cellar, if I want to go online. Luckily, the inept politicians in my city will likely still be inept tomorrow, I can check my email on my phone, and though it’s not full screen, I can still watch videos of stupid people doing asinine things. 

I asked today’s customer service rep what plans Charter had in place for reimbursing me for my time spent waiting around, talking with them on the phone, re-arranging my life. 

She told me they could give me a courtesy credit. That means they don’t bill me for the internet on the days I haven’t had it. She said she could only do that much because in order to give me a courtesy credit – might want to rethink that title, Charter -- she needed evidence. All she has on her end is the part about the machinery not working. So she’s crediting me a total of about $12 because I’ve hardly had internet since Tuesday. 

Hey Charter, you want proof? Here’s four pages of proof.  Your mistakes, starting with your idiot guy on Tuesday who “helped” me, are here for everyone to see. You took about 11.3 hours of my life this week. And that only includes the amount of time I spent with you on the phone or with one of your techs here at my house. When you factor in the re-arranging of my schedule not once but going on FOUR times in order to be home for your tech? Well, I think I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that. 

Free service for a month? That’s a start. 

Deepest apologies for totally screwing me starting with that great “savings” on Tuesday? That should be coming forthwith. 

Now, for everyone else who sees this. . . I hope that if you find my story compelling that you will share it. I’m stuck with Charter because it’s the only internet service in my town. But maybe you don’t have to choose Charter. Maybe you have other, better options. Read my story. Tell your friends. Give your had earned cash to a company that respects you and takes care of  you. Go elsewhere. Please. You deserve better. I do too.

(Sorry if any typos. Can’t type anything lengthy in my cellar-- poor lighting and no elbow room -- so I can’t double-check with my online dictionary.)