Day 4: The AT&T Fiasco

I am in the middle of assembling the drain line for the kitchen sink, and getting it reconnected to the septic main, when the AT&T guy shows up. It is 2:00 o'clock, about 104 in the shade with no breeze, and I am lying on my back under the trailer covered in dirt when I see a pair of legs walk by.

I know immediately who it is, and give him a little shout as I roll myself out to meet him. He is a nice guy. He has my modem. He is here to make sure I have internet service at the post, as well as to set up my modem and make sure everything works. There is one problem. The tablet he has is telling him my account has been deactivated.

We agree this is obviously some kind of computer error. I know I didn't call to cancel or otherwise deactivate my service. He doesn't understand why they would send him all the way out here to install a modem on an account that's been deactivated. He calls his supervisor. His supervisor checks, and verifies the fact that, according to his computer records, my account has in fact been deactivated. His supervisor is also at a loss as to why they would have scheduled an install under those circumstances. He decides to transfer my guy to someone in AT&T's big, official, customer service department. My guy gets put on hold immediately, and remains on hold for the next forty minutes. It is really hot. He is really big. He is really sweating up a storm, and I am afraid he is going to stroke out unless he finds some water and shade. He parks himself in his truck with a big bottle of ice water. I go back under the trailer to finish hooking up the kitchen drain.

Eventually, I can hear him talking to someone and walking over to see where I've gone. He is obviously very confused, and very frustrated with whoever he's talking to. He's been told my account has been officially, and permanently deactivated for over a week. He's trying to explain that, according to his records, that can't be true because I'd called to report the problem I was having less than a week ago which is when the install order had been placed. He is being told that apparently doesn't matter. He is insisting that the deactivation has got to be some kind of mistake. He is being told that doesn't matter either. He hands the phone to me.

I mistakenly think that if I explain how we arrived at this point, the customer service representative will be more open to actually addressing the problem I have.

I tell her about ordering service a month ago, and being repeatedly assured that my modem would be shipped to the address where I was living rather than to my trailer. I told her I'd received an email from UPS a week later letting me know the modem had, in fact, been shipped to the trailer and was being returned to AT&T as undeliverable. I told her I called AT&T to notify them of the problem, and ask that they reship the modem, as promised, to the address where I was living. I was assured it would go out the next day. I told her that, a week later, still having not received the modem, I called AT&T again to find out where it was. I told her I'd been informed that, apparently because the first modem had been returned as undeliverable, their computer program had automatically canceled all other outstanding orders associated with my account, including the one to ship the modem to the right address this time. It told her it was because of this error that the customer service representative had scheduled today's delivery and installation in the first place.

I tell her, for all those reasons, deactivating my account has to be yet another mistake.

She tells me she understands why I might feel that way under the circumstances, but even if it is a mistake, there is nothing she or anyone else at AT&T can do to fix it at this point. If I want internet service, I am not only going to have to order it all over again, I am also going to have to give AT&T another deposit again.

This stops me in my tracks. I ask her what happened to the deposit I already gave them. She tells me I need to submit a formal request asking that it be credited back to my checking account. She offers to submit that request for me. I take her up on that offer, and am put on hold while she does so.

My guy is still there. I have his phone. He can't leave. He asks me what's going on. I tell him. He is incredulous. He tells me there's probably something I should know about my line. It doesn't work. It's been vandalized, and had all the wires torn out a long time ago. I tell him I was concerned about that, asked, and was assured by AT&T that someone had actually come out here to make sure I wouldn't have any problems getting my modem hooked up. He says he knows. There's a note in my records verifying that visit. He says someone is going to be in really big trouble when he gets back to the office. What you should know, he tells me, is that if you order service and they come out to do the install, they're going to have to replace all that equipment, they're going to charge you for it - at least $300, probably more like $500 - and they're not going to tell you about it until you get the bill.

It is at precisely this moment that the customer service representation takes me off hold to tell me she's submitted my request, and that my deposit should be credited back to my checking account within the next 5-10 business days - before slipping into sales mode and brightly/cheerfully asking me if I'm ready to give her the information she needs so we can get my order for internet service in and I can get online again as quickly as possible.

I lose it at this point, and simply start ranting and raving at her about promises and trust and money and people/companies who can't do their job right or take responsibility for the mistakes they make or even offer to try to make up for the inconvenience/problems they cause. I know it is not her fault. Every couple of sentences or so, I apologize for being so upset and angry. She's just the person who had the bad luck of being given this call. I'm just really frustrated. It's really hot. I'm really busy. And I really, really, really can't believe any of this is actually happening.

She asks if I want to order internet service today or not. I tell her I really need to calm down and think about it. I have little reason to trust that she'll be able to give me what I want anymore than anyone else has. I tell her I'm not going to feel comfortable having anything to do with AT&T until I'm given some reason to trust them. I tell her giving my deposit back will be the first thing AT&T has to do to get me to even consider being a customer. She says she understands, and we leave it at that.

I give my guy his phone, thank him for driving all the way here, being so nice, enduring all this heat, and trying to help me get this huge mess all sorted out.

He leaves. I'm in a daze. I go back under the trailer and finish getting the kitchen drain line hooked up to the main septic line. I fill a bucket with water, and pour it into the sink. No drips. No leaks. None under the trailer either.

I am really tired. I think I deserve to treat myself to some real food and a little air conditioning.  I decide to really treat myself and indulge my extraordinarily unhealthy love of Moons Over My Hammy with a side of country gravy at Denny's. They also have wi-fi there. I email my friends to tell them I'm okay but had yet another problem with AT&T so still don't have internet at the trailer. I log into FB and catch up on what my kids, my friends, and the world at large has been doing for the last three days. I let the waiter talk me into ordering a banana split which I can't quite finish. I'm stuffed. Full of eggs, and ham, and cheese, and toasty golden bread, and hashbrowns, and coffee. I'm caught up with everyone. My kids are good. I'm good. It's all good.

I find it very hard to be unhappy in the company of Moons Over My Hammy. It makes everything better. I am really glad that Denny's is one of the few actual restaurants we have here in Mojave, because I think there are probably going to be at least a couple of more days like this ahead when I'm going to need to lose myself in the joy of all that mouthy deliciousness in order to feel better.

Tomorrow I'm doing the cold water intake lines, and installing the kitchen sink faucet.

Tonight, all I have any interest in doing is driving myself home, and putting myself to bed.

Home. I called it home. It's working. I'm smiling. Inside and out.