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| My desk phone...I have no idea how to program the time, and Josie-Earl is responsible for an accurate date! |
Last month I cussed at a stranger on
the telephone. I actually swore. In front of my teenage daughter, no less. Ugh.
What an awful example to set.
Here at The F.A.R.M., we
occasionally take a hiatus from television. I’ve cancelled the satellite dish service for
months at a time because I thought the kids were watching too much TV, or were
fighting over it excessively. Terminating
the service took care of the problem much more satisfactorily than constantly
scolding them did—and it also reinforced the fact that when Mum says “Quit
fighting over that thing or I’ll get rid of it”—she means it.
But last September, facing a winter
with rising expenses and reduced income, Steven and I cut non-essentials out of
our household budget. I called DISH
Network and suspended the service.
I reactivated it this Spring. At that time, I told the customer service representative
that our remotes hadn’t been working very well the previous autumn, and he
assured me that if that were still the case, DISH would replace them. He reminded me that for many years we’d paid
an extra $5.00 per month for insurance, which would cover their replacement.
I thanked the young man. And we very slowly resumed the habit of
turning on the TV to catch the news or watch a favorite sit-com.
But only the upstairs remote was
functional, and that was sporadic. Josie
and Eli couldn’t watch TV in the living room, so they’d pile onto my bed to
watch a show. My bed is in my
bedroom—and that’s also where my home office is. This
new arrangement wasn’t working (because when the TV was on, I wasn’t able to
concentrate on working) so I finally called DISH to order two new remote
controls.
The CSR—I’ll call him “Jim”– was
very polite. His foreign accent was
strong, however; and that immediately put me on edge. Too many times have I suffered through
painful conversations where I’m not understood and I can’t understand what’s
being said. It’s incredibly frustrating.
I quickly explained what I
wanted. It was simple. I needed my remote controls replaced. They were several years old and the buttons
didn’t work. On one, the buttons had
actually fallen inside the plastic holes.
On the other, they had to be manipulated with some degree of finesse in
order for them to work. And…I had
insurance to cover their replacement.
Simple, right?
Nope. Not even close.
I had to explain what was wrong
with the units. Not once, but over and
over and over again. I had to explain
the TV set-up, the room lay-out, the system design. No, we didn’t have two receivers. Yes, the system had worked that way.
Jim wanted the Smartcard numbers. The Smartcard was in the downstairs receiver
and my phone wasn’t a ‘cordless’ model. I
sent Josie to retrieve it. I read the
numbers and explained—again and specifically—what was wrong with the units.
Jim wanted to send me ONE remote. After all, the second remote worked
sometimes. Most of the time. IF you knew exactly how to rock your finger
on this button or depress your thumb extra-hard on that button—then it worked,
right?
Yes, Jim decided that we only
needed one new remote control.
I got a little testy. How much had I paid for insurance over the
years? $400.00? $500.00?
Maybe $600.00? And this young
upstart was prepared to deny me a chintzy, cheaply-made remote control? On what premise? Of course his goal was to maximize returns for
his employer! I knew he’d probably sat
through training courses like “How To Maximize Corporate Profits (i.e. Politely
Bamboozle Your Customer) In Order To Retain Your Job”. And I knew it wasn’t Jim who created DISH’s ‘Replacement
Policy’. But I paid for insurance, I had
two substandard remote controls, and I wanted two replacements. Was that unreasonable?
Jim placed me on hold while he
consulted his supervisor—no doubt ‘standard policy’ when dealing with a
bamboozle-proof customer. Upon
re-entering the conversation, he informed me that yes—he would be able to send
me that second remote. I was elated and
relieved. I was very busy and while
talking to Jim, I wasn’t getting my work done.
I was ready to hang up, but it wasn’t that easy. First, Jim—with his strongly accented
English--wanted to try to guide me in an over-the-phone ‘reprogram’ of unit
that (sometimes) worked.
I was flabbergasted. The remote was broken. The buttons wiggled when they should have
waggled. Jim asked for a fifth or sixth
explanation of what—EXACTLY—was wrong with the remote. His voice was getting edgy and I wondered if
his job was riding on whether or not he saved his company the cost of that
second remote. But I was beyond caring. Every time he reworded and repeated his
question, it sounded like he was challenging my honesty. I’d already told him what was wrong! I’d even offered to mail the remotes back to
DISH—and he’d turned down my offer. He’d
already received approval for the second remote from his supervisor! And…I BOUGHT THEIR INSURANCE!
“Ma’am, before I can send a second remote,
I need to know EXACTLY what it does!”
I lost all patience and good humor. With Josie listening behind me, I practically
hollered.
“For *****’s sake, how many times
do I have to tell you?! Is this
conversation being recorded for training purposes? I hope so, because this is EXACTLY what NOT
to do! I’ve TOLD you what’s wrong; I’ve
OFFERED to send them to you so you can see for yourself. Now I’ve had it! Are you going to send me two remotes, or shall
I switch to Direct-TV?”
“Yes, ma’am, this is being
recorded. Yes, I’ll send you two
remotes.”
“Excellent. What date can I expect to receive them?”
“They will be delivered to your
home on April 4th.”
“Thank you!”
As if we’d never had a long,
substantive (and slightly heated) conversation, Jim said, “Thank you for
calling DISH Network. Is there anything
else I can do for you, today, ma’am?”
How could I not laugh at a question
which exhibited such a total disconnect from reality? Sheesh!
There was no package in front of my
door when I got home from work on April 4th and I began to feel the burn of
indignation. However, Steven spied a
small box on the side porch the next morning.
I retrieved it. Opened it.
Saw the new remote control unit nestled inside.
All by its lonesome.
And yes, that fact prompted
asterisks, galore.
