Delta sucks and Verizon blows
Some of you might recall a teensy little problem I had with Delta a while back. A teensy little treated-like-crap, involuntary downgraded, routed twelve hours and thousands of miles out of my way and it was all their fault problem. Well. I showed them: I wrote...a letter.
And nothing happened.
So I wrote again.
And nothing happened.
I wrote a third time, and recently got back an infuriatingly blase response that's slightly worse than being ignored. In it, they assured me their stupid policy prohibiting pets in the cabin on lengthy direct flights has been changed. (Gee, thanks so much, ever so helpful -- seeing as how I'm never flying Delta again.) They offered the sort of supercilious apologies for my treatment in Mumbai that reminded me of the anecdote -- I can't believe I can't find this on Google -- about the hotel guest who, upon returning home, writes an irate letter complaining about the condition of the room he'd received, and is hugely mollified by the gracious written response he gets back -- until he turns the letter over and sees the Post-it note from the manager to the clerk, accidentally still stuck to the paper: "Send the bastard the bug letter."
They were completely mum about the fact that the entire incident was their fault, as it was their booking agent who made the pet reservation for that specific flight and the details of that reservation were plainly recorded in their system for all personnel to see, as the helpful Elf Queen in Schiphol was able to confirm on the spot. They assured me the business class fare was refunded to the Consulate (and doesn't that just warm the cockles of my heart) and -- get this -- included a $200 voucher to "show [their] goodwill." Because, yeah, that's a fair tradeoff for being ignored, verbally abused, physically threatened, lied to, hustled onto a plane heading the opposite direction, and made to fly twelve hours in cattle class, with a dehydrated and desperate cat, on a business class ticket. Yep: me and Delta, we're just hunky-dory now. Throw in a packet of peanuts, and I'll feel like I actually came out ahead on this one.
F*cktards.
ANYhoo: after promising to get back to us within 48 hours after the last FIOS mishap, Verizon of course never did. Many, many phone calls and much time spent on hold later, and we finally had another appointment for someone to come out and fix the line that apparently doesn't work, the fact that it's newly installed notwithstanding.
So the guy comes out, spends about 30 seconds frowning at the little box doohickey, and then announces that it doesn't work. Right, we say, that's where our story left off. No, he says, you'll have to make an appointment for someone to come out and fix it. Right, we say, that's you. No, he says, I'm here to switch your service on. A little hard to do that if the line doesn't work, isn't it, we ask. Right, he says, that's why you need to call to get it fixed.
Ok, fine. He swears they have a policy of rectifying the problem (not his words -- note the number of syllables) within a week. We call. And call. And spend time on hold. And are told that the next available appointment is at the end of January. Can we at least get the installation fee waived, K asks, and perhaps some other compensation for this rigmarole? You'll have to become a customer first, they respond, before we can offer you anything.
You know, we really don't need FIOS.
We really don't need Delta, either.
I'm just saying: I expect this from India. Heck, I even expect this from the UK (and let me tell you sometime about my adventures in trying to disconnect my BT internet). But when, in the last seven years, did Americans switch over to putting up with the crap of capitalism without at least partaking of the benefits? How do these companies stay in business? At what point in the automated-receptionist scan-your-own-groceries slippery slope did we completely sign away our expectations?
I say it's another Twilight-of-the-Empire manifestation, and I say to hell with it. Any of those Swedish readers left? Any singles...?
And nothing happened.
So I wrote again.
And nothing happened.
I wrote a third time, and recently got back an infuriatingly blase response that's slightly worse than being ignored. In it, they assured me their stupid policy prohibiting pets in the cabin on lengthy direct flights has been changed. (Gee, thanks so much, ever so helpful -- seeing as how I'm never flying Delta again.) They offered the sort of supercilious apologies for my treatment in Mumbai that reminded me of the anecdote -- I can't believe I can't find this on Google -- about the hotel guest who, upon returning home, writes an irate letter complaining about the condition of the room he'd received, and is hugely mollified by the gracious written response he gets back -- until he turns the letter over and sees the Post-it note from the manager to the clerk, accidentally still stuck to the paper: "Send the bastard the bug letter."
They were completely mum about the fact that the entire incident was their fault, as it was their booking agent who made the pet reservation for that specific flight and the details of that reservation were plainly recorded in their system for all personnel to see, as the helpful Elf Queen in Schiphol was able to confirm on the spot. They assured me the business class fare was refunded to the Consulate (and doesn't that just warm the cockles of my heart) and -- get this -- included a $200 voucher to "show [their] goodwill." Because, yeah, that's a fair tradeoff for being ignored, verbally abused, physically threatened, lied to, hustled onto a plane heading the opposite direction, and made to fly twelve hours in cattle class, with a dehydrated and desperate cat, on a business class ticket. Yep: me and Delta, we're just hunky-dory now. Throw in a packet of peanuts, and I'll feel like I actually came out ahead on this one.
F*cktards.
ANYhoo: after promising to get back to us within 48 hours after the last FIOS mishap, Verizon of course never did. Many, many phone calls and much time spent on hold later, and we finally had another appointment for someone to come out and fix the line that apparently doesn't work, the fact that it's newly installed notwithstanding.
So the guy comes out, spends about 30 seconds frowning at the little box doohickey, and then announces that it doesn't work. Right, we say, that's where our story left off. No, he says, you'll have to make an appointment for someone to come out and fix it. Right, we say, that's you. No, he says, I'm here to switch your service on. A little hard to do that if the line doesn't work, isn't it, we ask. Right, he says, that's why you need to call to get it fixed.
Ok, fine. He swears they have a policy of rectifying the problem (not his words -- note the number of syllables) within a week. We call. And call. And spend time on hold. And are told that the next available appointment is at the end of January. Can we at least get the installation fee waived, K asks, and perhaps some other compensation for this rigmarole? You'll have to become a customer first, they respond, before we can offer you anything.
You know, we really don't need FIOS.
We really don't need Delta, either.
I'm just saying: I expect this from India. Heck, I even expect this from the UK (and let me tell you sometime about my adventures in trying to disconnect my BT internet). But when, in the last seven years, did Americans switch over to putting up with the crap of capitalism without at least partaking of the benefits? How do these companies stay in business? At what point in the automated-receptionist scan-your-own-groceries slippery slope did we completely sign away our expectations?
I say it's another Twilight-of-the-Empire manifestation, and I say to hell with it. Any of those Swedish readers left? Any singles...?
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