Ah, the wonderful world of customer service. I'm calling today to transfer all my junk from this address to a new one... by 'new' I mean it has ONE DIGIT that is different (different apartment, same building).
The horror... the horror... [of customer service.] Funny how at one company you can go from a can-do-you-got-it-sir! person to someone who sounds like a slightly more spry Stephen Hawking, or the old slug woman from Monsters, Inc.
Actually, I shouldn't complain too much. The process has been relatively painless (excempting having been paying into a dead account and accruing hundreds of dollars in credit... yay credit!). So far, Bell is down, Bell Mobility is down, and I need to now hit Hydro Ottawa where no doubt their automated voice service goes something like this: "MmmmwahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA! ... Thank you for calling, sucker".
Should be fine, and it looks like I'll have phone service and Internet by Thursday. I told them that they can cancel everything, take all my stuff, but make sure Internet is up and running. (how predictable)
A weird (quel surprise) thought I had. You know how you are always put on hold? Now consider this: what if they partnered with a local sex chat service? When you go on hold, you're given the option for the transfer, and then given the option of male or female. So instead of shite music or the blackness of the Void That Binds, you get flirted with and otherwise "occupied". On hold for 15 minutes? No problem! Hell, people would call to be put on hold. And custom service metrics would shoot through the roof. Hmmm... *ponder*
Or... they could simply give you the option of choosing the kind of music to have to listen to while on hold. I guess that would work, too, though you gotta admit that it's not half as bold a business move as the sex chat line idea.
On another note... Vacation feels frickin' weird. Like I'm playing hookie, or I've been fired. The sensation is one of floating between uncertainties: am I supposed to be at work? or Should I be enjoying this? etc. I've decided to simply punt my vacation-based emotions out the window to fry on the pavement and am in blissful who-gives-a-damn mode.
I'm currently building the last of my bookshelves for my new place, and getting a few other things organized. A buddy is helping me move the big stuff (ie, 3 or 4 things) around 5. Then for the next 2 days I'll slowly migrate my detritus upstairs. By Thursday night, I want to be totally set up, and the place air-condition-cooled for Friday morn. Oh, that reminds... Dad, the air-conditioner didn't fit so I had to knock the entire window out with a sledgehammer. I'm sure my super won't mind. (... Just kiddin'.)
Well, off I go to sweat me arse off building bookshelves and humping a few things upstairs.