My old life is still getting in the way of my future life lately. I can’t get rid of construction, even though the economy has done a pretty darn good job of that. I still need some work to keep the revenue flowing and provide me with that vital life saving start-up money I so desperately need.
I’m actually gaining ground on the website, but getting slammed with other technology. I don’t seem to be able to catch a break some days.
In the attempt to look more professional, I thought I needed an additional line added and in all my wisdom, would have the new line forwarded to my existing phone, and I can be like Donald Trump.
The crazies at U.S. Cellular…yes that would be plural, set me up with the instructions to do this. Why can’t they just do it for me, I did drive 8 miles to personally talk with them.
Answer: Because they are clueless!
So, the results of these great directions basically set my phone up to call myself. Okay, let me explain. They have me forwarding the wrong phone to…well, the same phone. So when I test it and try to call from Karies phone, I get a busy signal.
My phone is now attempting to call it’s self.
I didn’t know – and nobody told me – that the forwarding calls would not – would not – indicate where the call was coming. What line is this from? I’ll set a specific ring tone for Sugar River Fiber and that will tell me…
This doesn’t work and I continue to answer the phone looking like a complete moron, because I don’t know how to answer for the correct company. Come to find out, there is one way to overcome this – carry two phones.
As most of you know, we are trying to sell the house. We have a sort of nibble on it, but it is like pulling teeth. I don’t know if they are just sooooo laid back that this is just how they are. Or is it that they are playing the game and trying to beat me down and give in.
I was going to give a little more and then no calls. Karie has all but given up and I’m just too bullheaded to give up and keep slamming into that wall I was talking about.
What is it with these guys? Can’t they at least leave a message and tell me what’s going on. If it wasn’t that they have a little interest in the house, I would tell them to (in the words of my late great friend Doug) “pound sand.” So finally a call.
“I left a message and just wanted to make sure you got it.” he said.
I have received nothing, so am very skeptical that they did indeed (picture the air quotes) “leave a message.” No tone to indicate a voice mail…no symbol to indicate a voice mail…nothing.
I dial my voice mail and guess what, there is a message. There is a total of eight messages there. Not all from said individual, but non the less, semi important.
Why wasn’t I notified? Why no beep? What the beep?
I am trying to operate a business and a half with this phone (you decide which business is the half) and am just running into wall after wall.
So eight miles later, I am standing in front of “the crazies.” He/she presses a few buttons and informs me that the battery is weak and probably won’t last the call to customer service...
“You are going to have me call customer service?” I ask. If that is all I am going to do, I could have done that at home.
Well out in the parking lot, guess who I’m calling?
The wonderful Daisy, from down south (not the banjo play down south. More like the sophisticated plantation down south) tells me to march back into the store and hand the phone to the “first agent I see.”
Crazy one isn’t present, so poor Matt gets to field this. You should have seen the look on his face when I handed him the phone and said “it’s customer service.”
It didn’t need to be on speaker phone for me to hear Daisy on the other end. Ouch.
Matt was instructed to “take ownership of this problem, and inform the personnel of this breakdown in customer service.”
I apologized to Matt for the ambush, and was informed that crazy one is the store manager.
Where is the store manager?
Long story…shortened. Problem solved. At least this one.
I don't think it went any farther than good ole' Matt, but I don't have to worry about that until the next time I make the mistake of visiting the experts.
Moral of the story:
I may not be smarter than a fifth grader…but I am smarter than a U.S. Cellular customer agent.