Comcast Customer Service Call--Strange, Combative and Unproductive

My internet connection has slowed to a crawl the last few weeks. I have comcast. It's slower than my old dial up. I lusted after the speed of the aol DSL connection I experienced at the youth center, using their computer during the FCCO clinic. I cannot believe how far the comcast connection has slipped in comparison. When I could no longer upload adoption videos, which is the only reason I have DSL, I decided "Time to call Comcast."

I know that is easier said than done. I waited on endless phone message trees, trying hard to choose the right number for the right option, but failing the first three times. I finally got a human being. Amanda.

I could not understand Amanda. I didn't say this right away. First, she claimed she couldn't understand me and wanted me to talk really slow. But she was mocking me, because after I stated my phone number slowly, she responded in exaggerated slow drawn out words, saying if she talked as fast as I did, nobody could ever understand her. I said it then. I said I didn't understand her anyhow. Well, I couldn't. The conversation went downhill from there.

I wasn't sure who I could be talking to. Someone disgruntled? Someone bored? Someone with an assault rifle who has just mowed down her fellow call center workers? Someone just fired? Someone drunk or high? Someone who didn't get the raise that was given then to some punk? Someone alone in a room with hundreds of calls coming in? Someone just about to get off shift? Someone who is seriously constipated?

I just didn't know.

She wanted my phone number and said it didn't match the account address. I said it should. She wanted my brother's phone number. He set up the account initially. She wanted me to read some number on my modem to her. I said I couldn't, that I'd have to find a magnifying glass first. She started mocking me again as I fumbled for the magnifying glass to read the damn number. She wanted my number again. The doorbell rang. Some cat people friends, one who lives in WA, the other in Eugene, sisters, had stopped by. I opened the door for them while still on the phone with Amanda.

I initially asked her where she is from and she'd said India, I'm sure. Later she claimed she's not from India and just said that earlier because she'd had to talk to someone from India. I said nobody in India is named "Amanda" so you're either not from India or that's not your name. Something like that. This conversation was not going well, but it was interesting, that's for sure.

She said she'd put me on hold and look something up. She says "Can you understand that word, the word "hold"?" I said that is certainly one thing I understand clearly, the "hold" concept in customer service. My just arrived friends and I began to joke about customer service frustrations when suddenly Amanda comes back on and says I wasn't really on hold and she'd been listening to us talk while I thought I was on hold.

At that point, Twilight Zone theme song music starts playing somewhere in my head and I am beginning to feel like I'm caught in a very twisted third rate comedy/horror movie.

She then asks me for the last four digits of my brother's SS number. Of course I don't know that and I wouldn't give it to her if I did know it, since it had no relevance whatsoever to my extremely slow comcast connection. Then she stated she could not be of help without that number.

I hung up wondering what the fuck just happened.

I'm going to try Yahoo DSL, if it's still offered, now that Microsoft is buying Yahoo. I was not born to live in a digital world. But I love uploading adoption videos of rescued kitties! Now I can't. But I'm paying to be able to.

Comcastic bullshit. You know?