Instead of being perpetually tormented by Christmas carols and merry fucking mistletoe now that Christmas is left sorely behind, I'm haunted by the nightmare of gift returns and their unintelligible overlords—customer service representatives.
We're almost a month into the new year, yet it wasn't until yesterday that I finally called the tech support line for my new external hard drive I got for Christmas.
The phone rang once and an automated system instantly picked up. I hate automated customer service systems even more than real customer service representatives. At least I can yell at them when they can't help me.
""Hello, you've reached Verbatim Tech Support. Para Español, prima numero nueve. For returns, please hang up and dial our returns hotline. For issues with Blu-ray, DVD, CD, memory card and other accessory items, press one now. If you're having technical issues with ProfessionalDigital software and/or LightScribe software, press two. For issues with Micro SDHC and Compact Flash devices, press three. And for USB and hard drive support, press four now.""
Why is the one you need always last?
""Now that we know your issue, please tell me how I can help,"" the machine said.
I refused to explain my issues to a robot.
""Connect me to a customer service representative,"" I said in that annoying, I'm-talking-to-an-old-person way.
""Before I connect you to a representative, tell me your issue. Maybe I can resolve it.""
I could not believe a robot had just questioned my request. I felt a little like Will Smith in the final scenes of ""I, Robot.""
""Computer is not recognizing external hard drive,"" I said, being careful to speak clearly.
""Did you say, ‘prin-ter is not grab-bing pap-er'?""
That wasn't even near correct, but I said ‘yes' anyway because this was just a bunch of useless crap until the system connected me with a real person.
""Have you tried restarting your computer?""
Apparently even automated systems think I'm a fucking idiot.
""Yes,"" I said.
""We are connecting you with a costumer service representative now. Please hold,"" the robot said.
It's moments like these when I wish I could existentially choke that automated voice. After about five minutes of listening to callback music, a reviving mix of Enya and Norah Jones, the representative finally picks up.
""Hello, my name is Singh Ghuampuanh, can I get your name and address please?""
""Stephanie Lindholm: L-I-N-D-H-O-L-M.""
""Can you spell your first name as well?""
Apparently Stephanie is one of those hippie names that the average person can't spell. But, despite my mounting frustration, I clearly and slowly spelled my first name.
""Okay, ma'am, so that's Sierra, Tango, Echo, Papa, Hotel, Alpha, November, India, Mike. Correct?""
""No, not correct.""
Singh and I went through 10 minutes NATO-style phonetic name and address spelling. She even asked me how to spell ""county"" and then topped it off by asking me to abbreviate Wisconsin for her. Good grief, Charlie Brown. I thought for sure she was going to ask me the fucking country code next.
After explaining to Singh that I had no backup copy of the very important files on my unrecognized external hard drive, I added, ""Your user manual said that if a unit is improperly ejected from the computer, it could become locked and to contact tech support in that situation.""
""Our units cannot lock up,"" she said.
""That's not what the manual says,"" I contested.
She then concluded my once-used external hard drive was ""extremely damaged"" and that I ""should request a replacement unit.""
""Would you like me to transfer you to file recovery services?"" She asked.
""Will that cost me money?""
""Yes, ma'am.""
""Then, no. Do not connect me to file recovery services.""
A long awkward pause passed and then she went where I have come to believe all customer service representatives are trained to go: she was condescending to me.
""Of course, this all would have been avoided if you had backups of your data. In the future, you MUST have a minimum of three copies of any data you do not want to lose,"" she said.
That was the last straw. I spent the next 30 minutes belittling her for her obvious lack of good judgment. Of course I should back up my data, that's exactly why I bought the external hard drive that died the first time I tried to use it.
Before connecting me to her supervisor's supervisor's supervisor upon my request, she said, ""Thank you for calling Verbatim Tech Support. Happy New Year.""
And then instead of connecting me to her supervisor's supervisor's supervisor, the bitch hung up.
Happy fucking New Year!
If you have any good insults to sling at insolent customer service representatives, then please, PLEASE send them to Stephanie at slindholm@wisc.edu. She's plotting revenge for her deceased hard drive.
