At Your Service, Madam!

Posted in Business, Humor, Technology by Shelley Sackier

Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet! You’ve reached repair services. For English, please stay on the line—para Espanol oprima nueve.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I have your phone number as 988-042-1414. If you’re calling about the account for that number, say yes, or press one. Otherwise, say no, or press two.

Yes.

Sorry. I didn’t hear that. I have your phone number as 988-042-1414. If you’re—

Yes. YES. YEEEESSSS!!! *1*

–Otherwise, say no, or press two.

*1* *1* *1* *1111111*

If you’re uncertain as to the telephone number for that account, you’ll find it on the top right hand corner of your In A Jiffy Internet bill. Just say or type in the ten-digit number now.

Nine, eight, eight. Zero, four, two. One, four, one, four.

Sorry. I didn’t hear that. Let’s try that again.

*9 8 8 0 4 2 1 4 1 4*

I have your phone number as 988-042-1414. If you’re calling about the account for that number, say yes—

Operator.

–or press one. Otherwise, say no, or press—

OPERATOR.

Sorry. I didn’t hear—

OPERATOR!!

Let me get an agent to assist you. Please be in front of your computer when the agent becomes available.

I’m here. I’m waiting. In front of my computer.

All of our agents are assisting other customers at this time. Your approximate wait time is … TWELVE MINUTES.

Twelve minutes??

*Muzak*

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hi, this is Harmita. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. Can I have the phone number you’re calling about? Area code first please?

Seriously?

Hello?

Yes. I heard you. I just can’t believe you. Fine. 988-042-1414.

And the last name on the account, please?

Sackier.

And who am I speaking to?

Shelley. Shelley Sackier.

Hi, Shelley. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. What can I do for you today?

Well, Harmita. For starters, internet service would be awesome.

Are you saying you don’t have any?

I am.

Oh dear. That is a dilemma. Well, we’ll try to sort you out in a jiffy, okay?

You betcha, Harmita. Thanks.

*tap tap tappity tap* Hmm … I can’t see why you’d be having a problem. Everything’s running beautifully from our end.

Not so pretty from my side, Harmita. Can you check again?

*tap tap tappity tap* Yep. We’re good.

We are NOT good, Harmita.

Well that’s strange. Hold on … Here it is. It says you’ve requested to disconnect your service.

I assure you I did not.

Oh really? I’ve got the order right here.

Well, it’s one I did not give. Can you please turn it back on?

*haha hahaha haha* Wait—are you serious?

Yep. Turn it on please?

Oh, well, you’ll have to speak to our service department for that becau—

Harmita? Can you please get me a supervisor to speak with?

Hold please.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hi, this is Jarime. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. Can I have the phone number you’re calling about? Area code first please?

You’re kidding.

Hello?

Yes. I’m here, but good grief already. 988-042-1414.

And the last name on the account, please?

Sackier.

And the billing address on the account?

Umm … wait … I think it’s PO Box 8213

And the zipcode?

Oh, good heavens, I’m not sure. I’ve got the actual account number if that’s helpful.

Sorry, I need the billing zipcode.

That’s funny. So do I. What does your paperwork say?

*silence*

Hold on, let me grab my phone book. It’s 48321.

Sorry, no.

48322?

Not that either.

Does it really have to be exact? I’ve got the account number right here. Can’t we work from that?

*silence*

48323?

There we go. And who am I speaking to?

Did Harmita not leave you a note? Nothing? This is Shelley Sackier.

Hi, Shelley. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. What can I do for you today?

Really, Jarime? Harmita just handed you the phone and said, “It’s for you”?

I have a notation that you’re having a problem with your service. Is that true?

Yes. I have no internet service, Jarime. I’ve paid for it, but it is absent.

*tap tap tappity tap* Yes, it says here that you’ve asked to be disconnected.

That is wholly inaccurate. Can you please switch it to the on position?

*haha hahahaha haha* … Oh, you’re serious?

Yes, Jarime. I am serious. I want my internet. I’ve paid for the internet. I’d like to have what I’ve paid for.

Oh, well, you’ll have to speak to the new services department. Let me switch you ov—

No! Jarime. No, don’t do that. Let me speak to the supervisor above you, please.

I’ll see what I can do, Shelley. Sit tight, ok?

Great. Yes. Thanks.

*Muzak*

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hi, this is Leonard. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. Can I have the phone number you’re calling about? Area code first please?

You’ve got it. In fact, most of the folks in your department have got it.

Hello?

Oh, my godfathers. It’s 988-042-1414.

And the last name on the account, please?

Sackier.

And the billing address on the account?

It’s PO Box 8213

And the zipcode?

48323.

And what was the total you paid on your last billing statement?

This I don’t know, as I don’t have the statement in front of me. And it doesn’t come to this address.

You might want to call back when you do. We can’t go any further without that information.

Yes we can. Harmita and Jarime didn’t need it!

Do you have the physical address of the where the service is?

Well it ain’t at THIS address—which is where it’s supposed to be. That’s why I’m calling. You’re pumping it elsewhere.

And whom am I speaking to?

Do you people really call yourselves a communication company? This is Shelley Sackier.

Hi, Shelley. Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet. What can I do for you today?

Well, for starters maybe have a quick chin wag with Harmita and Jarime. They’re up to speed. I’ll wait.

I have a notation that you’re having a problem with your service. Is that true?

Yes. I have no internet service.

*tap tap tappity tap* We’ve got a request that you be disconnected. Yes?

No. Not a request. There was no request. I vehemently request you unrequest that request.

*haha hahahaha haha* … Seriously?

Leonard, please don’t toy with me.

Yes, this appears to be a mistake on our part. Looks like we’ll have to get you set up with new service—as if you were a brand new customer.

Fine. Okay. Fine. How long till we can fill the line with juice?

Oh, probably no more than, let me see … *tap tap tappity tap* … seven to nine … maybe ten days.

NOOOO! Leonard! No! That can’t be right. Please, Leonard!

Yeah, that does seem rather long. Hold on. I’ll see what I can do, Shelley. Sit tight, ok?

Please! Yes. Thanks. I’ll wait.

*Muzak*

Welcome to In A Jiffy Internet! You’ve reached repair services. For English, please stay on the line—para Espanol oprima nueve.

~Shelley

Don’t forget to check out what we’re cookin’ in the Scullery and what we all talked about down in the pub. Plus, you can see more of Robin Gott‘s humor–all from the only pen carved from a human funny bone.

4Oct2014

In the Heat of the Moment

Posted in deprivation, Humor, Summer, Technology by Shelley Sackier

There are moments when you feel the stars align and the gods have smiled down upon you, and then there are the moments when you’re actually awake.

This week has been an exercise in staying off the “She’s gone postal” bulletin. I’m sure it’s not been pleasant for anyone around me, despite my epic efforts to remain sane and calm and far away from a loaded shotgun.

It all began with a tiny glitch in the air conditioning.

The “glitch” was that it stopped working. And I’m sure everyone is perfectly aware of the chapter in the manual that states all A.C. glitches will occur at precisely the moment when previously unseen record blowing heat waves sweep across your area and stall atop your house. This is a given.

Fueled by an inordinate amount of optimism, I brush it off and call the repair fellah who kindly comes three days later. When he announces the problem—some bits are broken—I smile and nod sagely. Yep, another given. When he reveals that the bits are not under warranty, my smile slips a tiny bit and I try to recall the several years of hard work those bits put into minding my comfort with very little applause. When he lastly discloses that the replacement bits are not on his truck, nor at his headquarters, but still in a factory somewhere in Sri Lanka, I sigh and say, “What’s a few days with a little sweat?”

“More like seven, ma’am.”

Okay, seven.

Sleeping is a little challenging with all that extra heat, but I mentally try to rearrange my body’s meteorological time clock and convince it that instead of 89° in my bedroom in a spectacular resurrection of summer, it’s actually January 7^th and my heat is working beautifully to combat the subzero temperatures outside. My time clock remains stubbornly unconvinced—a total lack of enthusiasm in the arena of creative imagination.

A week passes by with my nightly inventive game stalling on the idea that perhaps I’m actually losing weight as I sleep. Surely with all this sweating my metabolism is racing to cool down my body from its hours of feverish temperature. But the only thing I see sliding off me in the morning is my freshly applied makeup.

After twelve days of no A.C., I finally receive the hallelujah phone call with a date for installment—four days from now. I show an extra amount of gratitude after hearing the news and refrain from slamming the phone down. Four more days. I can do this. No sweat. Well … yes, maybe some sweat, but I can do this.

The next morning I am greeted by the deflating discovery that the house is now internetless.

I immediately panic. Being teased by the gods who removed my coolant system and shoved the sun a few inches closer to the Earth is one thing—yes, it’s fun for them to see the tiny ant dance on a hot plate under a heat directing magnifying glass, but detaching her from the godhead and rendering her silenced from the mainframe?? THIS WON’T DO!

It’s the equivalent of Sandra Bullock letting go of George Clooney in Gravity. I am alone and silent and inside an overheated spacesuit.

Thank heavens I still have phone service to call the internet company. But the service is only available from my bathroom, which, because of its super cheery wall of windows and two skylights, is doubling as a fully operational sauna. I call, I chat, and am told the usual—Just turn everything off, unplug, wait, reattach and allow your modem to cycle through.

Okay, except I have to do this downstairs in the basement—where the phone has no service—and hike back up to report the lack of progress. Four times.

After ninety minutes, I am handed off to the supervisor’s supervisor who now recognizes the problem as, “Well, it says right here there’s an order to disconnect your internet.”

COME AGAIN??

Firstly, why would anyone purposefully do that unless they knew the exact time they were going to die and hoped to save the remaining family members a couple days on the billing cycle? And secondly, how long had that little notation been popping up on someone’s screen, but hadn’t been seen because … well, you know, computer solitaire?

I am told I have been escalated to the top of their priority list and that the matter will be resolved shortly.

“Define shortly,” I request.

“Lady, I’m just reading from the handbook script here. Maybe take a chill pill, eh?”

“I WOULD IF I COULD!” I shout back.

On the morning of the A.C. visit, the phone rings and I hear that my technician has the flu. Or heat stroke. Doesn’t matter. He ain’t comin’. I slog through another day of heat and disconnection to the outside world. I watch the weatherman smile apologetically and announce this is quite a remarkable weather pattern. I throw the remote control at the screen and now have no television. I go to bed wondering who I killed in anther life. Surely this is karma coming back to bite me in the ass, right?

It is too hot to sleep. I throw off the covers and toss off my clothes. It does not help. I am quite desperate and open the porch door to see about a stirring breeze. But instead of a breeze I’m greeted by a buzz. It sounds as if my room has become the test facility for a batch of angry drones.

I flip on the bedside lamp and count a small swarm of about five hornets—each just a shade smaller than my fist.

I dive beneath the heavy blankets and try to determine if I’m crying or if my eyes are now sweating. The sound above me is bitter and determined. They are worker bees who have obviously been thrown off their mission by an open door that normally wasn’t open. I look for the smallest redeeming quality in this series of fiascos and I am left with only one thought. Well at least somebody’s working.

“Hey, I don’t suppose any of you guys have a background in tech support?”

~Shelley

September Gotta Have a Gott winner

In January, Rob and I announced that his sketches will be available toward the end of the year in the form of a 2015 calendar! And our readers would get to be the judges and voters for which doodles they’d like to see selected for each month. We’ll reveal the winners one by one, and come November, If you’ve Gotta have a GOTT, you can place your order. Jump on over to see the cartoon winner for September!