I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat
"Operator, could you help me make this call?"
--Jim Croce, 1971.
The following, for the most part, is a true story.
Follow the logic.
We recently “upgraded” our phone service to include BROADBAND—I call it “Blondie-ing” it (Broad band—get it?). Anyway, we did not receive the bill from Verizon that was due the 23rd of June. We have been screwed…uh stuck…with Verizon for years. Saturday July 1st, we received a “pay by July 4th (a holiday) or you are disconnected” notice. So I called today (they do not have weekend hours) at exactly 8:46 AM.
First on the phone is the “fun” and “pleasant” automated operator—try finding a "person" with this BS. I would say “billing” and then be told I would be transferred to the billing service “to pay for a $3.50 fee.” I would say "no" and then say person. “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.” So I started saying “Operator” only to hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
Now one would assume Verizon’s automated operator might know the term “operator.”
Then I started to have fun. Stealing a line from South’s Park’s Cartman I loudly proclaimed “Suck my balls” to which I would hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
I yelled “I hope you are taping this you ignorant morons—get me a person…” to which again I hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
I quickly learned saying “Now” transfers you to a person, which I think came after “Move your ass to a person NOW.” Then I reach the person who will transfer me to billing, which is what I told the “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat” operator in the first place.
Anyway, I was placed on hold from 8:56 until (get this—remember this is a PHONE company) until 9:42. I am not in any way, shape. or form exaggerating. Oh, and the music in the background is like cheap jazz from a Holiday Inn in Peoria. So when I reach a person, I whine about waiting for 45 minute on the phone and she says that Verizon is at its “peak busy time.”
“But, you’re a phone company?” I said. “I mean, if anyone should have operators, it should be you. Good thing I can use the internet while waiting because while I was watching porn, I saw three films while you were at your ‘peak’ time. I guess I was at my ‘peak’ time too.” (I was not watching porn—too cheap to pay for it—I was actually playing Spider Solitaire.)
There was a deafening silence on the other end. Then she said “what can we do for you?” I explained that we had not received the bill, that they may have made an error since we changed services and that I did not want my phone disconnected. “Well, I can transfer you to another area…”
“No, please God, no!” I yelled. “I cannot handle another 45 minutes on hold with that wretched music.”
“No sir, we should not have to wait that long now…”
“But isn’t my time worth something, seriously. I mean, look, you are using automated operators which means you will be replaced by a machine some day, right?”
“Not really,” she said.
“Oh, I think Ethel the welcome operator said that six years ago and where is she now—looking at her pink slip from Verizon, right?” No answer. “Just, please put me through to a person and tell me what to do.”
“Well you can pay online.” They love that. Forget everything you have heard about identity theft and the like. Forget added charges if you do not pay it off. They just want your money.
I told her that I did not like paying all of my bills on credit— I also told her we had our card number stolen twice and I was not too keen on having it stolen a third time. I added that I also understand how the depression started--with credit payments. She kind of laughed at that—more so than the porn line. Anyway, she transferred me and told me that their security is good. It is probably as good as the automated operator, so I worried.
The new waiting song was the Standells’ “Dirty Water” which is a great song, but within 45 seconds of it, I reached a person. 45 minutes of schlock jazz—45 seconds of a great garage band song—this seems about right.
“Can you send out another bill as we did not receive the last one and then we can pay it?” was the first question I asked the new operator.
She replied, and curtly I might add, “No because your payment will not be here by the 4th—it takes seven to ten business days.”
Then I asked, about Saturday’s cancellation notice. “That would not have made it either, right, so why send it with a return envelope? It makes no sense.”
“Well, that was informative.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “It said to pay and you just admitted that it would not be there and you guys are going to cancel the phone regardless. That’s some serious BS.”
“Well, you can pay online,” says Ms. Curt.
“But you never sent a bill? You messed up.”
“We don’t know that,” Ms. Curt answered. Hey, does Ann Coulter have a sister or something?
I then was even more ticked. “Look at my record. Have I ever missed a payment or been late?”
Pause. Click, click, click on the computer—then Ms. Curt reluctantly says “No.”
“No,” I repeated. “And I changed services this month, right?”
“Right,” she curtly chimed.
“So, maybe the error is on your end—judging how efficient Verizon is with automated operators that do not place me to a human and keeping me on hold for over 45 minutes—I think this might be a fair assumption on my part.”
Pause. Count to seven. Then she comes back, “Your options are you can pay on-line, call 1-800-Screw-You (ok, I made the number up) for a credit card or checking account payment (yeah, I am going to give them my checking account number, too—uh…NO) or you can pay in town at an approved business.”
“An 'approved business?' Where is that?” I asked. She gave me the name and address. My town is 120,000 people and there is only one "approved business" place? I said “I have never heard of that business and I have lived here for eighteen years. Can I just go to the Verizon store?”
“No, they do not have anything to do with us,” says Ms. Curt.
“They are called ‘Verizon’ so one would assume you are related. You want me to go to some business that I have never heard of to pay a bill you did not send instead of going someplace with your name on it, is that correct? What, on Saturdays do you have a guy named Vito in an alley somewhere I can ‘make a deal with’ or I’ll be sleeping with the fishes?” I asked.
Now she was ticked as well. “Look, I have given you three options—it needs to be paid today or else the phone will be disconnected tomorrow.”
Of course, with the addition of broadband, we just agreed to a one year Verizon deal, so I am screwed. I bet they do not have anyone working tomorrow on the Fourth of July, but why risk it?
Then she ends with the tag line “Thank you for choosing Verizon.”
To which I responded ““I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
She hung up, curtly, I might add.
I went in search of this “approved business” and none exists at the address she gave, unless it is a bar. I am not kidding at all. The address she gave has a bar located at it. I can only imagine a patron named Vito with a "Verizon" sign on his neck who wants my money.
So I gave in to the Devil and paid it via the phone with the credit card and was charged an extra $3.50. Moral of the story: VERIZON SUCKS.
And when they call to ask how their customer service was (they always do to trick the public into thinking they care, rather than bilking us out of our money) I will say “Customer service? I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
--Jim Croce, 1971.
The following, for the most part, is a true story.
Follow the logic.
We recently “upgraded” our phone service to include BROADBAND—I call it “Blondie-ing” it (Broad band—get it?). Anyway, we did not receive the bill from Verizon that was due the 23rd of June. We have been screwed…uh stuck…with Verizon for years. Saturday July 1st, we received a “pay by July 4th (a holiday) or you are disconnected” notice. So I called today (they do not have weekend hours) at exactly 8:46 AM.
First on the phone is the “fun” and “pleasant” automated operator—try finding a "person" with this BS. I would say “billing” and then be told I would be transferred to the billing service “to pay for a $3.50 fee.” I would say "no" and then say person. “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.” So I started saying “Operator” only to hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
Now one would assume Verizon’s automated operator might know the term “operator.”
Then I started to have fun. Stealing a line from South’s Park’s Cartman I loudly proclaimed “Suck my balls” to which I would hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
I yelled “I hope you are taping this you ignorant morons—get me a person…” to which again I hear “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
I quickly learned saying “Now” transfers you to a person, which I think came after “Move your ass to a person NOW.” Then I reach the person who will transfer me to billing, which is what I told the “I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat” operator in the first place.
Anyway, I was placed on hold from 8:56 until (get this—remember this is a PHONE company) until 9:42. I am not in any way, shape. or form exaggerating. Oh, and the music in the background is like cheap jazz from a Holiday Inn in Peoria. So when I reach a person, I whine about waiting for 45 minute on the phone and she says that Verizon is at its “peak busy time.”
“But, you’re a phone company?” I said. “I mean, if anyone should have operators, it should be you. Good thing I can use the internet while waiting because while I was watching porn, I saw three films while you were at your ‘peak’ time. I guess I was at my ‘peak’ time too.” (I was not watching porn—too cheap to pay for it—I was actually playing Spider Solitaire.)
There was a deafening silence on the other end. Then she said “what can we do for you?” I explained that we had not received the bill, that they may have made an error since we changed services and that I did not want my phone disconnected. “Well, I can transfer you to another area…”
“No, please God, no!” I yelled. “I cannot handle another 45 minutes on hold with that wretched music.”
“No sir, we should not have to wait that long now…”
“But isn’t my time worth something, seriously. I mean, look, you are using automated operators which means you will be replaced by a machine some day, right?”
“Not really,” she said.
“Oh, I think Ethel the welcome operator said that six years ago and where is she now—looking at her pink slip from Verizon, right?” No answer. “Just, please put me through to a person and tell me what to do.”
“Well you can pay online.” They love that. Forget everything you have heard about identity theft and the like. Forget added charges if you do not pay it off. They just want your money.
I told her that I did not like paying all of my bills on credit— I also told her we had our card number stolen twice and I was not too keen on having it stolen a third time. I added that I also understand how the depression started--with credit payments. She kind of laughed at that—more so than the porn line. Anyway, she transferred me and told me that their security is good. It is probably as good as the automated operator, so I worried.
The new waiting song was the Standells’ “Dirty Water” which is a great song, but within 45 seconds of it, I reached a person. 45 minutes of schlock jazz—45 seconds of a great garage band song—this seems about right.
“Can you send out another bill as we did not receive the last one and then we can pay it?” was the first question I asked the new operator.
She replied, and curtly I might add, “No because your payment will not be here by the 4th—it takes seven to ten business days.”
Then I asked, about Saturday’s cancellation notice. “That would not have made it either, right, so why send it with a return envelope? It makes no sense.”
“Well, that was informative.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “It said to pay and you just admitted that it would not be there and you guys are going to cancel the phone regardless. That’s some serious BS.”
“Well, you can pay online,” says Ms. Curt.
“But you never sent a bill? You messed up.”
“We don’t know that,” Ms. Curt answered. Hey, does Ann Coulter have a sister or something?
I then was even more ticked. “Look at my record. Have I ever missed a payment or been late?”
Pause. Click, click, click on the computer—then Ms. Curt reluctantly says “No.”
“No,” I repeated. “And I changed services this month, right?”
“Right,” she curtly chimed.
“So, maybe the error is on your end—judging how efficient Verizon is with automated operators that do not place me to a human and keeping me on hold for over 45 minutes—I think this might be a fair assumption on my part.”
Pause. Count to seven. Then she comes back, “Your options are you can pay on-line, call 1-800-Screw-You (ok, I made the number up) for a credit card or checking account payment (yeah, I am going to give them my checking account number, too—uh…NO) or you can pay in town at an approved business.”
“An 'approved business?' Where is that?” I asked. She gave me the name and address. My town is 120,000 people and there is only one "approved business" place? I said “I have never heard of that business and I have lived here for eighteen years. Can I just go to the Verizon store?”
“No, they do not have anything to do with us,” says Ms. Curt.
“They are called ‘Verizon’ so one would assume you are related. You want me to go to some business that I have never heard of to pay a bill you did not send instead of going someplace with your name on it, is that correct? What, on Saturdays do you have a guy named Vito in an alley somewhere I can ‘make a deal with’ or I’ll be sleeping with the fishes?” I asked.
Now she was ticked as well. “Look, I have given you three options—it needs to be paid today or else the phone will be disconnected tomorrow.”
Of course, with the addition of broadband, we just agreed to a one year Verizon deal, so I am screwed. I bet they do not have anyone working tomorrow on the Fourth of July, but why risk it?
Then she ends with the tag line “Thank you for choosing Verizon.”
To which I responded ““I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
She hung up, curtly, I might add.
I went in search of this “approved business” and none exists at the address she gave, unless it is a bar. I am not kidding at all. The address she gave has a bar located at it. I can only imagine a patron named Vito with a "Verizon" sign on his neck who wants my money.
So I gave in to the Devil and paid it via the phone with the credit card and was charged an extra $3.50. Moral of the story: VERIZON SUCKS.
And when they call to ask how their customer service was (they always do to trick the public into thinking they care, rather than bilking us out of our money) I will say “Customer service? I am sorry, I did not understand that, please repeat.”
posted by Eric Sweetwood at 11:28 AM
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