Dateline: Left hand on one phone tree limb…Right hand gripping another tree limb…oops.
PART THREE. Hour Three. You will not be able to properly feel my pain or find some shred of forgiveness for my behavior unless you have read Parts One and Two of my torture history.
Hour Three in Phone Tree Stress
Now I’m bumped up to Level Three Customer Service since my request is
apparently too complicated for the first two levels. Level Three Customer
Service Guy thanks me for choosing Dell and asks me to give him all my
information again. He assures me he will solve the problem. I let out a sigh of relief.
Level Three Customer Service Guy comes back on the call where I wait with gratitude and anticipatory excitement. LTCSG says, “I see the problem. Your computer only fits with a six cell battery and what they sent you was a nine cell battery.”
I struggle to breathe. Okay. Just because common sense made no sense to Levels One and Two, maybe it will work with Level Three Guy. I begin, “Sir, I’m afraid you are mistaken. Yo see, the computer in front of me came with a nine cell battery and I have purchased several replacement nine cell batteries from Dell.”
Didn’t even make a dent. He continues, “Ma’am. No. Please listen. You have
the right battery for your computer. We just need to send you six cell batteries of the same type and you will be ready to go.”
“But–”
“Trust me. Your computer can only use a six cell battery edition of the same kind of battery you were sent. I will order two of these for you.”
At this point, I suspect I’m going insane. I give up. “Fine. Here’s my credit card number…though you are sending me an incompatible battery and wasting another week.”
To check out the insanity possibility I now drive to Best Buy to get checked out with a Geek Squad Guy. I run my story, show him my computer and ask if I’m losing it. Geek Squad Guy says: “No ma’am. That is a nine cell battery and your computer uses a nine cell battery.”
Trembling and nauseous. I know what hell lies ahead. I call Dell back. I trudge through levels one, two, and three spouting my name, address, and shoe size over and over.
Level Four Supervisor Guy apologizes profusely and says he’ll fix the problem. Could he please have my name, address, last four digits of my Social Security Number, and place of birth.
Hour Four
Fifty-six games of solitaire and four dropped calls (each requiring that I give them my birth certificate again), Level Four Supervisor Guy is back on the phone. I tell him my sad story. He looks up the order for the two batteries Level Three Guy ordered for me. He agrees that those batteries are not the correct batteries. He tells me not to worry, when I receive the batteries, my money will be refunded after I take the package to a UPS office, since I have nothing to do with my life except to do research and run errands for Dell.
Level Four Supervisor Guy has a special goodie for me since I’ve had so much trouble. The goodie? “We are going to give you free shipping for these new batteries!” he says grandly.
I go back to the insanity possibility. Did he just say Dell was generously going to
pay for shipping back to Dell the batteries to replace the wrong batteries for which I had paid Express Shipping? I couldn’t hold in my glee and laughed. He asked me if I’d be interested in opening a Dell credit card. Now I am roaring with joy.
“Oh, yes, that’s just want I want to do. I want to arrange my life to deal further with
Dell customer service, that is exactly what I want to do.”
Then, Level Four Supervisor Guy asked if I would stay on the line for a survey to help them out. What? I’m working for Dell Human Resources now?
Maybe I would have answered a few questions, but I was thinking margarita and a Jorge’s enchilada platter for lunch. Oh, but wait. My other phone is ringing….which was handy since my call with Level Four Guy had dropped before the survey commenced and before he’d ordered the correct batteries for me.
I answer the cell. “First, let me thank you for choosing Dell. We show that earlier today you ordered two six-celled batteries. We’d like to follow up on your call to Customer Service. Would you punch in your name, phone number, and the Day Lincoln was shot…and then choose from the following options…”
Lunch turned out to be a fantasy. You’d think this situation couldn’t get worse, but it does. Going insane seems like a small price for how I spent the afternoon.
