This morning I got to experience the joys of incompetent tech support.
The employee at one of our satellite offices was attempting to install DSL and couldn’t get past the username/password screen.
I called AT & T and, after an interminable time answering questions from an automated voice:
“Have you been able to connect at all?”
“Sorry, but I cannot understand your response.”
“Sorry I cannot understand your response, please push 1 for NO, or 2 for shove it up your ass.” (Okay, it didn’t say that last part, but it might as well have…)
I ask the person, Oh!, the real human person, “How do we get assigned a user name and password?”
He asks what color the modem is and how many green lights are flashing. (In hindsight, I really wonder if he was totally fuckin’ with me)
I call the site:
“Hola, RE, gris or negra la modem, por favor?” “Numero verde el illuminata?”
“Gris, Quatro? Buenas dias”
Speaking to a 2nd tech support person, I exclaim triumphantly: “Four green lights and a grey modem!” Tech support guy: “Uh, well, we need the model number and type of modem.” SHIT.
I call RE back.
I have no idea how to ask for the model number in Espanol. Modelo? Modela? Tall skinny white chick + numero?
A third call to tech support begins with the tech guy announcing that with AT&T DSL you MAKE UP your own user name and password.
Necessitating a third call to RE to relay that information in butchered Spanglish:
“Cosmetico (a la AVON) tu password y user name. Hasta Luego”
She tried it; it didn’t work. (But, then maybe she was applying blush to her moniter, I’m not really sure.)
I get the bright idea to have her call AT&T and speak to someone in Spanish.
Finally, now, six hours later, her DSL is up and running.
And I have a wee headache that I’m soothing via Reeses Pieces, diet Coke and Tylenol.
I hate the chirpy phrase “TGIF!” but I’m totally feeling it today.