A month or so ago, I wrote up a rant about AT&T, attempted to post it here, and instead of the "submit" key sequence (Ctrl-C, Ctrl-C), I hit the "exit" key sequence (Ctrl-C, Ctrl-X). If you don't recognize what program I'm using by that information, don't worry about it, but suffice it to say, I thought it was a little odd to have no verification prompt as I nuked a couple pages of screed.
The high points of that rant:
- I got a bill from AT&T.
- AT&T doesn't provide me with any form of service.
- I called them up, and spent a long time on hold, and a dismal couple of minutes talking to two different representatives who had more mastery of English than I had of their native language, but still a frustrating dialog.
What I still haven't managed to ferret out of these weasels is why I'm getting bills at all from them. They're happy to cancel the charges, but that's missing the point.
Ok, so that's where we were a month ago.
I got another bill from AT&T in the past week. I called again. Once again, an individual with a friendly, accomodating tone answered the phone. I probably took a more hostile than necessary tone, and he assured me that the charges and late fees that were supposed to have been canceled would in fact be cancelled. And, he assured me, I wouldn't get any more bills. But, while I'm on the line, perhaps I'd like to change my long distance service.
+ 15 points for moxie.
He then, as I imagine his script mandated, asked me if I was satisfied with the service that he provided. And my answer was "Give me a month or two, and if I, in fact, stop getting bills, I'll be satisfied". He assured me that I wouldn't get billed any more, and repeated his scripted question - was I satisfied. I reiterated that I couldn't really tell. That I had called a month ago, and they assured me that the charges would be cancelled, and appearantly they weren't. So I'm a little tentative about his explanations that truly, this time, my account is closed. And again, the question came - now, was I satisfied? About that time I gave up. I knew that he needed an unequivocal "yes" or "no" out of me to enter into his computer, and that he had done all that he could for me.
So I hung up on him.