Yesterday, a new Sears credit card arrived in the mailbox for my dad, James R. Beveridge, even though he died a year ago.
So I called the 800 number on the back of the card and waded through several prompts before reaching a live person. She spoke clear English.
I told her the situation. She asked for my name. I supplied it, and then, she asked for the name on the card. I said: "James Beveridge."
"Can you put him on the phone?" she responded.
"Heee's DEAD," I said before she began to apologize profusely.
And then there was silence......
"Are you still there?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm sorry .. it'll just take a few seconds," she said in a hushed tone.
"The account is canceled."
1 comment:
A few years ago, when my wife and I were victims of the Hurricane Ivan-spawned flood in Bridgeville that left our townhouse uninhabitable, one of my tasks was to call the utility companies and cancel my service at that location. It all went well until I had to call the phone company - you know, people in the communication busines. I clearly explained to the person that we had a flood that devastated our home and that we were moving and no longer needed phone service at that location. Not 15 seconds later, the customer service rep asked me, "Are you canceling because you were unhappy with the service?" Now, mind you, I had just spent three days pulling the soggy remnants of my life from my home, getting a tetanus shot after slogging through floodwaters and trying to figure out how to rebuild our lives. So, it was not surprising that my reply to her was, "No, I was not unhappy with the service. I was unhappy that I had four *@#$&* feet of water in my living room and the phone was UNDER WATER!" She finally got the message and handled the disconnection. Jeezus, these people can be thick.
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