This is a video that has been making the rounds for a bit, and it is still fun. I put myself through school as a tech support person and the only flaw in this depiction is the tech support fellow does not appear to be pulling his own hair out by the roots.

I will admit it, I have zero tolerance for poor phone support (Are you listening Sprint?). Call center turnover is generally high and for good reason, no one ever calls up to say “Hey, I just want to let you know everything’s going A-OK over here. It’s all good and working fine.” People call because they are working on something NOW and it needs to be fixed NOW. Most call center people aren’t very skilled because they have a script they follow for your problem, and if your problem does not follow that script, they are as lost as you are. Support comes in levels and generally its not until you get elevated a couple of levels that you will get to someone that actually as technical expertise and is genuinely interested in your problem.

Sprint may have the worst customer support in the history of the known world. I suspect the complaints department at Alcatraz was more responsive. Its fairly apparent the Sprint approach is two-fold:
one – get them off the phone as quickly as possible and however that happens is fair game
two – no matter what happens the problem is because the customer is in a rare dead zone / indoors / moon is in the wrong phase. But in no case is the phone, network, Sprint, its subsidiaries, employees or any resemblance to real tech support living or dead part of the problem.

Here is a favorite case from when I bought the Treo 600. I got very spotty reception and a friend and I would be standing next to each other and his was find and I could not get a signal. In multiple calls to phone support I was told:
Sprint: “Oh, you were standing next to each other? You can’t get a signal because you canceled each other out.”

Or my personal favorite:
Sprint: “You see those little bars to the side on the top?”
Mark: “yes, I do. All the bars are showing..”
Sprint: “OH, that’s your problem. See those little bars tell you how busy the network is. If you see all of them, the network is really busy and that’s why you can’t make you call.”
Mark: “………..”

In an effort to keep this blog PG-13, I can’t detail my response.

I’ve lived in virtually every part of the country at some point in my life, and can say without reservation that the worst drivers in the nation are in California. But finally, after years of enduring left-hand turns from right-hand lanes, people doing 50 in the passing lane of the 101, and slamming on my brakes when the person yammering on their cell phone suddenly swerves into my lane, after all this I can now say I have cracked the code as to what's gone wrong. It's all about culture. California is a prototypical car culture. People in California think of their cars as their own little islands of tranquility. It's a place to get time away from other people, to listen to your favorite music and generally to relax. The other cars on the road are, if anything, an invasion of privacy. I think this explains the otherworldliness that Californian drivers display. They tend to treat the roads as their own personal conduits for their customized transport pods. Boston however has the best drivers in the world. The reason why is drivers in Boston tend to be better drivers is they unconsciously understand that traffic is a super organism. A car is a conveyance to get from one place to another, and that you have to be constantly aware of what everyone else around you is doing in order to be a safe and efficient driver. For example if you're merging onto the highway at the height of rush hour in Boston everyone cooperates in “zipper merging” where every other car let's someone in much like the teeth on a zipper. Don't misunderstand, I’m not suggesting that Boston is the paradise of driving. One of the reasons why Bostonians tend to drive more aggressively than other drivers is they have a healthy mistrust of all the other drivers on the road. Bostonians are hyperaware of the other cars around them because they simply assume you're from California and quite capable of having an out of body experience behind the wheel at a moments notice. Did I mention I had a frustrating day in traffic today?

So, I go off to a doctor for all the usual crap, and make my return visit a few weeks later. He invites me into his office and the following conversation occurs.

Doc: So, um Mr. Dawson, when was the last time you had you cholesterol checked?
Me: Well, I don’t recall ever having it checked, I never get general check-ups.
Doc: I see, well..um, your cholesterol level is 302
Me: *Blank Look* Is that bad?
Doc: Not if you’re a can of Crisco
Me: Oh
Doc: Good grief, you are 5’11” and 160 pounds soaking wet, what do you do, go home and sleep on a mattress covered in bacon and stuffed with brie!?!?!?!
Me: *in denial* Hmm, that does sound odd… perhaps there has been a mix up?
Doc: YOU AREN’T LISTENING… this is not an error you over-rated chimp, the lab found traces of gravy in your blood for God’s sake!

He proceeded to give me a lot of guff about getting more exercise, and gave me a list of “heart healthy foods”. I didn’t bother pointing out that I considered pork chops a vegetable. I was going to suggest he join me for a stiff drink at the deep fried chicken wings place across the street, but I sensed the conversation was moving in another direction. Besides, I have noticed younger people tend to balk at whiskey and wings at 10am…. Liberal generation my ass.

On the list he gave me, things like Bacon, Steak, Cheese and Eggs were noticeably absent. Asking him if this was a typo was met with something we social science types like to call “stony silence”. That is a technical term, feel free to use it if you like. Now I take something called Lipitor. I left a message asking the doctor how long after I start taking the drug that I can eat bacon again, no response. I called back a second time and the number was disconnected. Geeze, how good a doctor could he be if he can’t pay the phone bill?

Blog Disclaimer. I will often go back to entries to make edits or clarify points. If I am changing my point of view, that will be a new entry.

A visit from an unwelcome guest

So, this is how my day started.
(knock on the door)
Me: Hello, how are you?
Smiling Stranger: HI! I am here for your install.
Me: Hmm, I don’t think so. I have had all my cable and such finished already.
SS: Well, let me look again. Mr. Dawson, Burlingame, Ca.. birthday next month, right?
Me: Um, well, yes I guess.
SS: Great! Ok, well, here just let me get my bag in and we’ll get started.
(He shoves in past me)
Me: Hey! Wait a second, what is this all about?
SS: I told you, I am Fate, and I am here for your install.
Me: What the hell do you mean “Fate”?
Fate: I mean “Fate”, as in finger of, the long thread of time, keepers of the future and past, and in my case, installers
Me: Um, well just what are you “installing”?
Fate: Well, according to the paperwork… lets see, here it is, pretty standard stuff: pot belly, love handles, gradual befuddlement, and hey, you get a bonus, it seems your ancestors toed in the High Cholesterol package.
Me: No way.. *SNAP-ZOINK!* JESUS! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
Fate: Just a staple gun you wussy, hold still, I have to tack the pot belly in place before I get the spot-welder.
Me: What I won’t give for a Jehovah’s Witness right now. Look, what about if I join a gym?
Fate: Hey, knock yourself out. Your father worked like a mule at hard labor until the day he died, and he still had a pot belly. But Gym owners need to buy Rolex watches too I guess.
Me: Can you are least quit whistling while you do this crap?
Fate: Why? I love my job. I mean, god, we love to watch you guys getting all freaked out, and rushing about getting your hair dyed, buying muscle cars… weeping every twenty minutes. Sometimes we like to show videotapes of the real psych cases at the end of the year party. People jumping out of windows, hitting on 25 years olds and get laughed at. I mean this stuff is hysterical. You’ve been middle-aged for a few years now, you should be used to it!
Me: I am NOT middle-aged
Fate: Do the math pot-belly boy, you are way past middle aged, its not like you are going to live to 80 or anything.
Me: What??? What the hell does that mean?
Fate: Ooooh, great! Hold that expression while I get my camera, OK say “I’m depressed” *snap-flash*. Woo hoo, that’s a great one, you look totally crest-fallen. I just love that look on your face as you get the inevitable feeling of life passing you by. All those hopes and dreams that will never be realized, the loves you never had…
Me: Um *sniff*
Fate: Cool, hold still! *snap-flash*, I am going to make an 8 x 10 of that one.
Me: STOP DOING THAT, Jesus, you are a bunch of real bastards, aren’t you?
Fate: *snickering* Oh Hell yea, totally, but it is just so damn funny.
Me: Wait a minute, aren’t people like you supposed to go to hell are something?
Fate: Of course not, God likes people to be happy in their work, and let me tell you, we are a pretty happy bunch.
Me: That does make some kind of perverted sense
Fate: Yea the big boss is a real crack up that way. Hey, look, I’d love to hang around all day watching your accelerating decline, I really would, but I have to get some guys childhood sweetheart to cheat on him with their parish priest in a closet just before they exchange their wedding vows.
Me: *shudder*
Fate: Man! I love my job. See you later..
Me: What do you mean “later”? When is when????
*poof*
So, how was your Sunday?