With the recent addition of the grassmonk blog, I felt like the site really needed a little somethin’ somethin’, so I started giving it a tiny little makeover. Expect this look to permeate more and more of the site as time passes. Eventually I hope to implement multiple style sheets so you, the imaginary reader, can enjoy grassmonk.net at the optimum level.
Also of note is the fact that Firefox kicks IE’s butt.
My recent dealings with AT&T have brought to mind that I used to work as a Customer Service Representative, which should have made me feel empathy for them.
Turns out empathy ain’t my strong suit. In this case it’s because I actually knew what I was talking about as a CSR, whereas these people don’t seem to know their butts from a hole in the ground. Metaphorically.
Or I could just be a jerk–who knows?
Anyway, when I worked as a CSR, every day I was plagued with emails from people who wanted to terminate the service they receive from the company I worked for. Normally, responding to these emails is routine and relatively painless, but inevitably, there is always an email (or two, or five, or thirty) that I can tell just by looking at it was written by someone as literate as my brother-in-law, whom I suspect of having close genetic links with inbred raccoons.
I’m talking about emails that look something like this:
To: CUSTOMER SERVICE
From: SOME FOOL IN ARKANSAS (HOBOSTOP1@AOL.COM)
Subject: CACLE MY SEVERICE PLEASE NOW IW WANT TO FCANELSO YOU WANT TO DANCE I SEE I WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS ISSUE AND CACENL MY SERVIS WITH YOUR COMPANY I DONT KNOW MY ID NUMBER OR ANY INFERMASHUN THAT YOU WOULD NEED TO CANCLEE SO CNACLE NOW AND RESPOND BACK OK IT IS IMPORTENT OK SO NO MORE CHARGE ON MY CREDIT CARD OK OK CANSEL CANSEL CANSEL CANSEL CANSEL CANSEL OK BYE
Now, seeing one email like this every few weeks would be tolerable. But the sheer volume of illiterate goo that filled my inbox has convinced me that this is a problem of epic proportions, and must be curbed before the major part of Americans–nay, humanity at large–are walking only semi-upright and use different types of grunts for ninety percent of their daily communication.
Wait, I think I just described most of the male population, and two or three women whose company I do not look forward to sharing.
The solution I propose is that an email virus be created and sent to all people who use all capitals in their email correspondence. The subject line will read, “Are you for capital punishment?” Since people who use all capitals are some of the stupidest people on the planet, they will instinctively open the email, whereupon evil laughter will be played and a message will flash on the screen that says, “Guess so, loser.” Then computer crashes. Who are they going to complain to? Smarter people? Yeah, that would work:
Capital Offender: “DUDE MY COMPUTER CRASHED ALL I WAS DOING WAS WRITING EMAILS AND IT JUST STOPPED WORKING.”
Smart Person: “I’m speechless.”
I bet that if we petitioned, i.e sent enough money to Microsoft, it could even become a standard Windows feature.
A guy can dream, can’t he?
I just got off the phone with AT&T. Again. My new theory is thus: when your job consists of talking down to people who know more about your web site than you do, you really ought to look for a new line of work. The experience reminded my of my surreal encounter with Sony’s tech support, which is a story for another day.
It struck me that there is a connection between the people I talk to at AT&T and the people working in telemarketing. Before the job I have now, I worked for five months at a call center. We had a client called Splawn and Ward and we did calling for them for home equity loans and lines of credit. They changed (and, as I understand, continue to change) their requirements on a near-daily basis, while laying any blame for mistakes they made on us. As part of the loan application, we had to collect the customer’s social security number. If they could not or would not give it at the time, a supervisor was supposed to manually call them back later in the day and get it from them.
I was mainly in charge of programming the Splawn and Ward calling script, as well as various other web tools for the supervisors to use, such as one to input the social security numbers and update the customer database after the manual callbacks. The supervisors and call agents were routinely known for breaking things in record time. After several breakages, I composed the following email:
— >8 cut here 8< ---
Sometimes you order a pizza, forget to say, "No anchovies," and must rush back to the phone before your pizza is ruined beyond all possible reparation. This is what we in the Real World refer to as an Emergency. In the Realm of Telemarketed Disillusionment, the definition of "emergency" has become somewhat obscured; now it can mean anything from "The server room is on fire!" (an actual Emergency) to "I forgot my lunch!" (not an Emergency, but still important) to "I’m an agent and therefore exempt from all possible logical action, and anything I feel must happen now inherently constitutes an Emergency of Utmost Proportions" (definitely not an emergency, but somehow we still get duped into believing that it is).
Because manual callbacks for Splawn and Ward fall under the category of Emergency as defined in the Realm of Telemarketed Disillusionment, a web page has been created to update the CallHistory table for these manual callbacks, so that completed "applications" are exported nightly, hot leads don’t get cold, and most importantly, the fish stay in the ocean, far, far away from our Canadian bacon.
For reasons unfathomable, the Manual Dial Call History Update page has been abused. Exports have been jacked, yes, WOG levels have risen beyond Reason, and the Fiery Bowels of the IT Department’s Ire have been opened and unleashed upon the Realm.
After much Deliberation né Cussing, a Solution has presented itself, however temporarily.
Pressing the "Verified" and "Not Verified" buttons on the Verification page of the Splawn & Ward script will now update the CallHistory table for you. I feel it sad that I must, due to past experience, point out that this means one button or the other during a call. It does not mean both, and it certainly does not mean to become inexplicably color blind, lose voluntary control of your hand, and click the “Hot Lead” or “Ate Kidney Beans on a Full-Mooned Thursday in Texas” buttons. The Manual Dial Call History update page must still be used for a Hot Lead or Failure disposition. Why? Because we said so.
While we have tried to make this change as easy to use and as robust as possible, the words of Douglas Adams shed profound illumination on the hope that we will be completely successful: “A common mistake people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”
Please enjoy this new functionality, and when you manage to dispel its usefulness in the first hour, please refrain from running immediately to the nearest IT personnel, so we can bask just that much longer in the pride of a job well done.
Enjoy,
Your friendly neighborhood Steve Eastland
— >8 cut here 8< ---
So what’s the connection between the AT&T and telemarketers? I have no idea. Ben told me to put this email up for viewing, so I had to tie it in somehow.
And to be fair, the first guy I talked to at AT&T–the one who signed me up–was very nice and polite, and smart to boot, which is probably how I got duped into thinking the other people there would be too.
I recently changed wireless providers from Verizon to AT&T. I was happy with my service right up to the point where I actually had to speak to an AT&T representative in an attempt to decipher the hieroglyphical encoding used to display my monthly usage on their site.
But before I could actually speak to a representative, I had to dial the customer service number, navigate the poorly designed menu system, and submit information concerning the last time I changed my underpants at least three different times. Once I had satisfied the curiosity of the IVR–and after it laughed at me in a most sinister fashion–I was at last transferred to the Hold Music. It was like watching Hellboy, but without the tremendous benefit of… well, it was exactly like watching Hellboy.
After an eternity of “Please hold; your call is very important to us (if you live in one of three randomly selected major metropolitan areas)…” Decoder Boy picked up the phone. The conversation went downhill from there.
Him: “Hello, thank you for calling AT&T Wireless. My name is Decoder Boy. How may I help you today?”
Me: “Yeah, I’m trying to look at my usage on your web site and it’s a bit confusing.”
Him: “OK, can I get your wireless number please?”
Me: “Um, I gave it to the IVR three times. Don’t you have it?”
Him: “Yeah, funny things, IVRs. So, I’ll need that number, your mother’s maiden name, and–“
Me: “The last time I changed my underpants?”
Him: “So you know the drill. Usually customers have to call in several times before we can train them properly.”
Me: [gives information] “So, I’m looking at these minute reports, and–“
Him: “Well, actually, um… Sorry, but I’ve lost my secret decoder ring and so we’re just going to have to wing this one.”
Me: “Uh huh. Okay… so do you want to get a new ring or something?”
Him: “Nah, I’m good. I’ve been here all of five minutes. How much could I not know by this time?”
Stunned silence filled my general area, threatening to suffocate me.
After several minutes passed in this fashion, I came to the conclusion that my plan had been set up wrong and I had accumulated about $60 in overage charges in the past week, due to an error courtesy AT&T and its generous army of decoderless-ring gnomes.
Me: “So will I be charged for these fees that were, in fact, completely and totally, without question, your fault?”
Him: “Oh, of course. But when you get your first bill you can call in and they should be waived.”
Me: “So are you going to fix the plan setup so this doesn’t happen again?”
Him: “Oh, you didn’t want to have excess charges?”
Me: “Let’s pretend that I’m from another planet where excess charges are bad, and–“
Him: “You’re from another planet? Wow!”
Me, realizing that make-believe is a concept they must cover in advanced training chez AT&T: “Yes, I’m from another planet, and my civilization is so much more advanced than yours that I can make your spleen explode from here, just by thinking about it. I don’t want to do that, so why don’t you just fix the error, hm?”
Him: “Okay, but please don’t explode my spleen!”
I promised not to on the condition that my superiors would authorize it. Hey, they lie, I lie.
You know those people who make the little quote marks with their fingers while they’re talking? I think they should have their fingers “cut off.” Or maybe a little something else…
Seriously, this is something that is wrong and simply must be stopped. We cannot allow this kind of criminal behavior to continue. It is reprehensible and totally inappropriate.
Of course, when I say this practice must be stopped, I mean by everyone except me, for the same underlying reason that I could never be a cop. I’d break the law and expect people to look the other way. I don’t see anything wrong with it, because I imagine millions of cops do the same thing. Do you think Officer Friendly is really “friendly?” Think again. He probably spends his off-duty time sitting at his computer in a dark room, downloading MP3s and bootlegs of The Matrix off IRC. That’s what I would do. I’d take great delight in giving people tickets and shoving them up against chain-link fences, knowing that my massive collection of illicit tunes and low-quality VCDs was waiting for me to get home and crank up the volume.
It makes me chuckle just to think about it.
Now where was I? Oh yes, quote marks. I mean, who started this practice? My bet is geeky 35-year-old homeless people. Homeless people are generally all right, but you never can trust a 35 plus geek. Just look at Bill Gates. He wants your firstborn son and the kitchen sink, and to get them sub-contracts expensive lawyers to write EULAs to which we, the unwittingly laymen, agree without thought. Now imagine Bill Gates as a homeless bum. It’s hysterical, but a little scary, too. Admit it, it’s scary.
I guess my point would be stop “finger-quoting” or you’ll be “sorry.” I’ll find a way.