After the debacle with Comcast,
that night at dinner with a friend, Aaron Goldstein, I told him about the
conspiracy to prevent the Internet from reaching my home. Aaron, a founder and board member of
the local public radio station, said he had a good experience allowing the phone
company to handle the phone, and install Internet and the TV reception. All he needed to do was add that QWest
would also balance my checkbook, take out the garbage and erase mold from
toilets to make what he was saying beyond too good to be true.
The next morning I called Qwest
and give them the entire job. This
required a long and complicated conversation with a friendly woman, who began
by adding services to my phone line, even though I was happy with what I had.
Then I had to stop the Comcast
trenchers from going to either 6 Estambre Road, Place, Court, Ditch, Trench,
Trough, Alley or any other variation.
I called Comcast and heard the
following message seven times: “For English press one. Thank you for the delay while we
process your call. Thank you
for calling Comcast. Our
walk-in lobby hours are… thank you for taking time to listen to this message…
thank you for being nice to us before it was necessary… thank you for being
you… thank you for sending the money…”
After I pushed Number 2 to
downgrade or cancel service, I heard another “Thank you” and then NOTHING. No lush violin music that says
that the telephone company really doesn’t want to answer your questions about
why your bill doubled from last month to now. No sitar or tabla tunes indicating that I had been
transferred to India. Nothing.
Remember: I was attempting to
speak to the highly technical cable television company that proposed to be
responsible for bringing me the miracle of dozens of channels for entertainment,
shopping, religion and celebrity poker. It is this cable company that is no phone service! Does this suggest overwhelming
competence?
While in the Land of No Sounds,
I punched in Marianne’s extension.
Nothing.
Tried zero for operator. Nothing!
Then I alternated, Marianne’s
extension and zero dozens of times and got nothing. Not a sound, not a raspy moment of heavy breathing, not even
a suggestion to go to their Internet site (which I couldn’t do until I had
access to the Internet).
Sometime between my 4th
and 7th call, I became resigned to the fact that was impossible to
cancel #Comcast or to communicate with any human being who worked for that
company. Perhaps, from this
time forward, any appointment made with Comcast could never be unmade.
The next day, while we were at
lunch in central Santa Fe, a man called my cell phone and said that Comcast was
at my home, ready to dig that trench and install the Internet and television.
Although I wanted to ask
exactly where they were, I said no thanks, please do not trench. I explained that I couldn’t get through
to Comcast or the supervisor the day before. Expressing no emotion whatsoever, the man thanked me and
ended the conversation. So the
relationship with Comcast ends not with a trench but with a polite
non-whimper. Now, will QWest show
up as promised on Thursday?
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