I recently had a problem with the my Sports Illustrated subscription for my iPad, if you define “not being able to read it” as a problem.
It took a couple phone calls where I might have raised my voice a time or 20 — I tend to get agitated easily in these situations — but after some to-ing and fro-ing we put our heads together and figured out the problem (my account still being under my old zip code) and got everything sorted out.
By contrast, my relationship with Heather from Account Services couldn’t be much worse.
She calls me every so often on my work cellphone — I’m not even sure my wife and my parents know that phone number — and while she seems nice enough, she won’t stop talking about my credit card, and won’t let me get a word in edgewise until I hang up and block her number.
And so she calls me back from another number. The phone concession at Account Services must be epic.
I don’t know if Heather worked today, but I got a call on my work phone from “United States” — which really narrows it down, since I don’t know anyone outside the country — and when I answered, a very chipper-sounding person said she had the help regarding my federal student loans I had asked for.
I knew I’d get nowhere by pointing out that between a scholarship and my parents (not to mention growing up in a time when parents with the kind of middle-class jobs my parent had could send two kids to college), I’m fortunate enough to have not had any student loans.
So I just hung up and blocked the number.
I’m starting to think that all the good bots have moved to Facebook and Twitter, leaving the second- and third-stringers to handle the phone stuff.