Mike Q. Public’s Rage Against the Machine

As your typical, everyday consumer, I’m forced to be my own advocate for attempting to remedy corporate idiosyncrasies and lackadaisical services; and it seems like a regular function for me nowadays.

The previous entry in this often-times long-winded journal mentioned my going after the auto-parts company who damaged the esteemed Mini-Cooper during a regular oil change at their facility. After several telephone calls and my ranting on Twitter to the corporate headquarters, I’ve finally got the ball rolling with a claim to obtain compensation for the expensive repair as a result, performed henceforth at an authorized Mini dealer’s service center.

The paperwork, according to the general manager of the store involved—who initially stripped out the oil-pan’s plug—is now with the corporate overseers in Philadelphia, who will make the final decision for reimbursing me for my unforeseen, resultant replacement of the oil pan, plug and gasket due to the service center’s negligence. I should hear from them in about two weeks with the outcome, per my contact at the store level.

To add insult to injury, my cable-Internet provider has been a thorn in my side for the past several years, another super-conglomerate based out of Philly. Need I mention their name? My connection to the Net drops out regularly, sometimes twice daily, forcing me to use my air-card from another company during the outage.

Something must be wrong with the incoming line to cause the modem to drop out as often as it does. I live in an apartment development with over eight hundred flats, spread out amongst several buildings, parking lots and courtyards close to the Delaware River. Maybe peak usage by the residents is the problem, although the outages occur at various and sundry times of the day and night.

I’ve been complaining about it to their customer-service, live-chat operators after my becoming sick and tired of losing connectivity in the middle of uploading or downloading something critical from the Inter-Webs, losing valuable information and having to start over again while connected with my air-card.

Nothing is resolved usually with those friendly chats, other than opening a trouble ticket and obtaining an appointment for several days later, when their service technician will come over to my abode and check things out. Inevitably, connectivity to the cable Internet resumes and I cancel the service call, not wanting to be charged for the call out if they find nothing wrong.

Incidentally, as I type this tirade, cable Internet has dropped out again, as seen in the photo of my modem below:

Cable Modem

Cable Modem

Note the top two indicator lights are lit, and the third is out (the one for Internet connectivity) and the fourth is lit. If the signal was fully functional, the top five lights would be lit, with the fifth one blinking.

I’m certain it will come back on in an hour or so; but in the meantime, if I want to keep working on the Net, I have to plug in my air-card and proceed from there.

To illustrate what I’ve been going through each time I establish a chat session with the cable customer-service analyst, pasted screen shots of the transcript from last evening’s run-around appear below. My legal first name is Paul, which I always get called when dealing with official business:
chat-conversationchat-conversation02chat-conversation03
The reply from the analyst was they don’t offer any e-mail correspondence. I missed getting that on the screen shot.

chat-conversation04chat-conversation05

It’s hard getting angry at a customer-service representative, considering I spent the latter part of my career dealing with the public and know how frustrating it can be; especially if that agent is halfway around the world from Philadelphia.

The cable Internet is still out, and I’m relying on my air-card to publish this rant and rave. Guaranteed, it will be back on before the 3rd, when the technician is due to arrive; and I’ll end up cancelling the appointment like before.

As my world turns, thanks for your continued support; and I’ll catch you on the Net one way or the other.

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About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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3 Responses to Mike Q. Public’s Rage Against the Machine

  1. Shirley Ann says:

    As our material world evolves this unfortunately highers our expectations and on the flip side can lead to more disappointments when they are not met . What’s the answer ? Go back in time to travelling on foot , posting a letter ? Have less world contacts and virtual friends ? Don’t think so ! Suppose it’s just accepting the flaws in services or embracing the good fight . I’m still trying to work out the feeding of the 5000 with loaves and fishes – if it was me it would be a big pot of soup using the bread as croutons ( chucking in a few veg) Is it all a matter of how we perceive things ?

    Happy motoring and may your broadband serve you well –

  2. Me, I would change water into wine, drink it and not give a damn. I pay good money for these services and my expectations aren’t any higher than just give me what I pay for!

  3. Incidentally, my cable Internet went back on last night and has dropped out again as I type this. Maybe it will be non-functional when the service tech gets here, but I doubt it. That’s how my luck goes.

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