When the occasion calls for it, I am great at belittling people. Not only that, but we all know that I love a good rant on top of that. So, when I called Verizon back in October to get my sister's phone transferred onto my account and the customer service girl gave me attitude, snide, snarky, sarcastic Erin rose to the occasion and probably ruined that poor woman's day…
Things started out innocent enough. I was at work. Bean calls me and says she wants to get her phone added to my line. Since she's in Denmark 95% of the time, this would only cost me an extra $10 a month and give Andrea a phone to use when she's here that 5% of the time. She's my sister. She's my bestest. I don't mind.
So I call a friend I know that works at a Verizon dealer. I was going to tell him Bean had my permission and gave him all my info to get the transfer all done. However, he couldn't do that. He gave me a number to call and told me it would take five minutes or so.
At work, I called the number hoping that this would be as quick, easy, and relatively painless. However, like a trip to a dentist, the call was anything but…
It started out good though. I called the number. The automated voice answered and asked my for the phone numbers, my account password and all that jazz. Then she said to wait a minute. I took this as a good sign, that the transaction was set to go through. Oh, I was so wrong. Instead of hearing the automated voice tell me that I had successfully added another number onto my account, I got a real, live human person.
And guess what. She asked me what I'd like to do. I was a little put out because I wanted to know what the hell the whole recording-rigamole was, but I wasn't about to get snotty with the poor customer service rep because Verizon was worthless.
So I told her what I needed to do and that I was on a time crunch because I was at work and shouldn't be on my phone.
She responded by saying: Well, ma'am, this is a fifteen minute process and if you don't have the time, then I suggest you call back when you do.
If you just guessed that my next response was less than pleasant, you are correct. I responded by saying: I needed this done now. My sister is getting on a plane to head back to Denmark, where she lives, and adding her number to my line is the best choice for her when she comes back to the states.
Then she asked for our numbers. I gave them to her. Now, she can put those numbers into her little computer and find out everything she needs to know about both lines. But, apparently she didn't do that because she then told me that both of our numbers would have to be Verizon numbers.
"Well, that's good because they both are," I said. Yes, the snark was definitely creeping into my voice at this point.
"I need to speak to the owner of the other line," she then snapped trying to match my snark with rudeness.
This was not settling well with me. "Well, she's at the Verizon dealer. He's the one that told me to call this number.
She repeated herself. "I need to speak the owner of the line."
"Well, you have her number," I said. "If you're not going to callout he dealer, why not call her then!" I huffed.
She put me on hold. For four minutes. You bet I timed her. When she came back on the line, she recognized that she had already been given my sister's permission.
.
"That's what I told you!" I snapped. My patience was gone
She ignored my jab which was probably for the best since this whole song-and-dance number was stretching out to ten minutes. So we moved on to the next phase of the process.
This phase required me to give…(drumroll please)…my phone number! And then…(cue the drumroll once more)…my sister's phone number! And yes, if you're keeping count, this is the third time that I have to had to give those numbers out during this phone call.
I don't mind repeating myself once or twice, but this was borderline ridiculous.
So when she asked my birthdate (something she'd already asked earlier) my mood completely shredded. "Really? What else am I going to have to repeat," I snapped.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said. "I can't access the previous information."
I gave her my birthdate. She repeated it back. Wrong. I clarified. This time, she had my birth year as 1918. I clarified again and then said, "Are you trying to go slow on purpose?"
"Ma'am," she tried to interject.
"Because I think you are. You know I'm in a hurry."
"I'm going as fast as the program will let me she said," and then asked for something else that I had already given.
"Do you want to know the new balance," she said.
"I just want to get this done," I said.
"There will be a credit, but I guess you don't want to know that either," she snapped.
"I guess I don't," I replied tartly.
And finally, thankfully, mercifully, the number was transferred and I was ending the call. Next, I texted Beanie to let her know she was all good to go if she wanted to look for a new phone.
Later, after work, I called to get the new information. Obviously, I didn't speak to the same woman. But I did apologize for being a handful!
And there it is: Proof that I can be nice if I want to be!
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