I need to get this off my chest. I’m really tired of not being able to get a live operator when I call customer service, and this is just the beginning. I’ve tried three things to get to a live person in the United State, not India.
1. Keep hitting zero on the telephone keypad no matter what the canned voice has to say.
2. Call the Presidents office and speak to a third in line junior secretary and work yourself up to a number two administrative assistant.
3. Hit number 2 for speaking Spanish, and keep shouting over the phone ‘No habla Englishe” over and over until an operator comes on. She may only speak Spanish, but at least she will be a real human being. I find this works best.
This is just the beginning. I am only getting warmed up.
I hate it when I am about to miss a bus by about one foot or two seconds, and the bus driver is studiously looking as hard as he can away from you at the traffic in the other lane because he wants to make the light.
This takes guts, but if you’re mad enough it is worth it. Jump out in front of the bus in the middle of the street, take out a pen and piece of paper, and very slowly start to write down the numbers on the bus. Be sure to take long enough for the bus driver to miss the light, and then bang on the door. This time he will open up. Refuse to get on at first. Tell the bus driver you just want his operators number so that you can file a complaint with the Mayor.
I love this one. You will get the bus driver so screwed up he will probably miss the next light trying to convince you to get on. Life can be beautiful.
If you are too old to jump in front of the bus, whack it with you cane on the side as loudly as you can. If you don’t have a cane yet you are probably middle-aged. Just be thankful you got this far and take the next bus. Throwing rocks is forbidden.
How am I doing?
If the check out girl at the local supermarket has just packed your hot barbequed chicken in the same shopping bag with your cold vanilla ice cream stay calm. Quietly ask her if she has a second bag. Remove the hot chicken and repack in the new bag. Then tell her you don’t want the ice cream because it is melting from the hot chicken. The clerk will have to call over the store manager to approve the return. Tell the manager what happened and that if he doesn’t give you the ice cream for free you will return his chicken too because to tell he truth it is not so hot either. This will probably work. If it doesn’t insist on returning both items and repurchasing new items and going to a different clerk. At this point the manager will probably give you both items for free to get rid of you.
This is only the beginning. I am just blowing off steam. I have to vent. If you have suggestions please leave them on the comment section of my blog.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
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1 comment:
OMG...I could give a bunch of examples here, but let me get this to you first.
My wife and I went to a local Red Lobster restaurant with our seven year old son. All was going well, the service was great, until the food came out, now the fun begins. My meal included a piece of chicken, shrimp and veggie. The veggies, broccolli was barely warm and mostly raw, the kicker here is the chicken, it appeared to have been left out over night or something, dry as a bone on the top and when I turned it over it was as black as the ace of spades. Of course I asked for the manager immediately. Having been in the food service industry myself I was shocked that even the most novice cook or chef would think of sending this piece of food out to a table. The manager comes over and I explain the broccolli is raw, they will replace it. I get to the chicken and explain the problem and show him the piece of chicken, i even told him that I would be ashamed to have sent something like that out to a paying customer. He looks at it and then looks me in the eye and has the nerve to say totally straight faced, "You know grilled doesn't necessarily mean burnt!" I almost died from holding in the laughter that wanted to burst out in his face. The chicken was going to get replaced, okay, I sit and wait while my family eats. Out comes my broccolli, unseasoned and nicely melted on it just the way I ordered, twenty-five minutes ago. Fifteen minutes later my new pice of grilled chicken arrives, on a side plate no sauce which was the attraction feature to begin with, no rice under it for a bed. Just a stinking piece of grilled chicken on a plate...OMG!
I never was asked by the manager about my meal nothing, never saw him again, not even when we were leaving. Needless to say the server even began to avoid looking at our table until it was check time. Yep, you guessed it, NO TIP! I still got charged for my meal, because they remade everything for me.
Well have a great day!
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