Fuggin' Bell fuggin' Expressvu...

TV is dead to us now. We haven't watched anything in the past month other than the hyperthyroidic creatures on Dora the Explorer. The kids can live without it.

We were tempted back to the satellite service when they offered us two months of free service with all the options. It was fun to TV back for a while, but then I forgot all about it. The first bill finally came and -- Aaawk! -- it was almost $100! For a month! Can anyone really pay these ridiculous charges? (And no, the porn channels weren't part of 'all the options'.)

Well, no more. The ridiculous bill was my fault, but they're not getting any more of our money. Time to cancel.

So now I'm on hold. I've been on hold for quite a while. I started by shifting through the menus to get to the queue to talk to a human. After an excessive wait, I finally get to speak to a someone. They tell me that to cancel, I have to talk to someone else, and I'm back on hold again. This time the hold is much less pleasant because it's accompanied by an annoying woman telling me annoying things. Apparently I can watch Fahrenheit 911 on Expressvu! "It's Michael Moore's latest commentary!" (Exact words.) I loop through this grating crap at least ten times.

And finally through. The guy on the end is trying to talk me out of it, like I'm perched on a ledge of a tall building, threatening to jump. No. My mind is made up, I ... *klic* ... ummmmmmmmmmmmmm...

Cut off! Bastard! I call back -- and in a mere twenty minutes I'm talking to a guy three cubes down from the first guy. I'm pissed, but it's not his fault. But he can't help me. If I want to cancel I have to talk to the cancellation guys -- and get back on hold. So. On hold again. The fourth time. Same annoying patter. Grrr.

Twenty-five minutes. I cannot believe this. Finally I'm through and... the cancellation department closed a half hour ago! I'm talking to tech support. No, he can't take my information and give it to the proper people. No, he can't get someone to phone me back. No, he can't ram his head into his desk a few times to make me feel better.

Evil bastards. They won this battle, but they won't win the war.

UPDATE: Did it. And it only took ten minutes this time. But they can't shut me off until May 7 and can't even reduce my package. Swine.

Posted by Bruce Gottfred at April 6, 2005 09:51 PM | TrackBack