Caller: “Why have I been charged an international rate?” 

Me: “It looks like you called Canada, sir.”

Caller: “Yes, but that’s not international!”

Me: “I’m afraid it is, sir. Canada is another country.”

Caller: “It’s not part of the United States?” 

Me: “No, sir.” 

Caller: “Since when?”

Me: “Since… well, ever. There was a war about it in 1812.” 

Caller: “Oh… I must have missed it on the news.”

Related:
Blame Canada! Part 14
Blame Canada! Part 13
Blame Canada! Part 12
Blame Canada! Part 11
Blame Canada! Part 10

I moved out of my mother’s house into my own flat just a couple of days before the entire country went on lockdown due to a famous contagious illness. And by a couple of days, I mean that I moved in on Sunday and the lockdown was announced on Wednesday.

As this was the first apartment I’d rented in my own name, I didn’t have a contract with a telephone company to install the Internet. I wanted to use the same provider my mother used, [Company #1], but when I called them, I was told that the first slot possible for the technician’s visit was three weeks later.

I still accepted the appointment, but since I assumed my workplace would want all of us employees to work from home (which would be difficult without Internet), I thought it would be too late and contacted another company [Company #2] with the idea of cancelling the appointment with [Company #1] later. 

They told me the technician would come the next week. I signed a contract and waited for the technician. They didn’t show up.

They came the week after that, and after a hot minute, they told me, “There is nothing I can do.” They said the Sales department would contact me, and the next week, I received an email from [Company #2] cancelling the contract.

Since I never cancelled the technician visit with [Company #1], they came a few days later at our scheduled meeting. They installed everything within twenty minutes, and I was finally connected to the world again.

But the story doesn’t end there. A month later, I received a bill from [Company #2]. 

I called them to investigate the charges; the technician hadn’t done anything and they had cancelled the contract themselves, so what was the charge about?

The lady I had on the phone told me not to pay attention to it and that I didn’t have to pay for anything. But the next month, I received a reminder. I called again, and another person told me the same thing. 

The next month came and, lo and behold, another reminder! I called back, and I was given the same answer. I was fuming and asked them to send me a confirmation that I didn’t need to pay the charges. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do that, they said, but I shouldn’t worry; I didn’t have to pay for anything. I tried to send an email requesting an explanation and never received an answer. 

The following month, it was not a reminder I found in the mail. It was a payment order from the bailiff’s office, threatening legal repercussions should I not pay the bill by a certain day.

I was done being nice at that point. I called the firm that had sent me the letter, explaining the situation. By email, I sent them a scanned copy of the contract, a copy of the email cancelling the contract, a copy of all the payment reminders, and a picture of the installations made by [Company #1]. I also sent them a copy of my email demanding explanations that never got an answer.

I was willing to pay what they wanted me to pay, but I didn’t know what they were charging me for.

A few days later, the bailiff’s office replied to my email: the matter was resolved, and I was not being charged for anything.

And so, I was connected. In the end, my workplace still asked us to come to work on-site. At least I could watch Netflix.

About fifteen years ago, I was working in a call center for a Very Big Cell Phone Company. This VBCC had call centers all over the USA. I happened to be working in one in the Midwest on the swing shift.

It was near the end of my shift one night, so almost 1:00 am, and things were winding down. My last call beeped through, but the customer’s account didn’t automatically pop up on the computer screen. This meant one of two things: either this wasn’t an actual customer (yet), or it was a customer with a lost or busted phone. I was hoping for the first but, sadly, it was the second.

So, I girded my loins, steeled myself, and prepared to do what I could to help. I got her cell number so I could pull up her account, and I saw that she had wisely purchased the replacement insurance. I used my best, Compassionate Customer Service Voice™ and assured her that she would get a replacement phone in five to seven business days.

She was not happy about this, and I get it. But there was nothing else I could do.

Customer: “I want my phone now!”

Me: “I understand. And I empathize, but the replacement phones are sent through the mail. It takes five to seven business days for it to arrive. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “No! You will give me my new phone now! I’ll pick it up at the store!”

Me: “Ma’am? You’re in New York. It’s 2:00 am there. There isn’t a store open, and even if there—”

Customer: “Then wake someone up, and make them open the store for me! I need this phone, now!”

This conversation went round and round in circles for about five minutes. It had been a long day, it was the end of my shift, and at that point, my friends were waiting for me so we could all go to a local twenty-four-hour breakfast place and blow off some steam. (It’s Tulsa, Oklahoma; there wasn’t anything else open at that time of night.)

I kept trying to explain to her the simple fact that I couldn’t instantaneously get her the replacement phone, and she kept interrupting me, demanding she get it RIGHT NOW!

I was starting to get pissed, and I was about to sacrifice my job if I heard the word “NOW” one more time.

Customer: “WHY WON’T YOU GIVE ME MY PHONE NOW?!”

And there it was…

I took a deep breath, found my center, and then, with a firm but calm tone to my voice that belied the fury boiling inside of me, I said:

Me: “Ma’am, I sincerely apologize, but all of our transporters have been infected with a computer virus. You don’t want me to beam you a mutated phone that would bite off your ear and then embed itself into your brain, now, would you? No, you do not. So, you’ll just have to wait patiently while we use twenty-first-century technology to get your replacement phone to you in five to seven business days. I am ending this call, now. Thank you, and good night.” *Click*

I logged off, grabbed my coat, and stood up, ready to finally leave…

And there was my supervisor, standing in her cubicle, giving me the stink-eye. She gestured for me to come to her, and like a dog that knew it had done a Bad Thing, I slunk across the call center.

Supervisor: “You do understand that I’m going to have to write you up for that, right?”

I nodded.

She looked around, and no one but my friends were looking in our direction. Then, she reached down and tapped a key on her keyboard. Then, she tapped a second one. Then a third. Then, she looked up at me, and a smile twitched on her lips.

Supervisor: “We’re just going to pretend this never happened, okay?”

Me: “Ma’am?!”

Supervisor: “Yeah, you lasted longer than I would have.” *Chuckles* “And I have to admit, that was a pretty creative comeback.” *Becomes stern again* “But never, ever do that again.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. No problem!”

That was not the first time — nor would it be the last time — that my smart mouth overruled my idiot brain when dealing with an Entitled Jerk. I’m honestly surprised I’ve never been fired for it. I’m retired now, so I beat the odds.

I should’ve used my luck on the lottery, instead.

I have a prepaid cell phone. It doesn’t have some of the bonuses of a monthly plan with the big carriers, but it’s FAR cheaper, and I wouldn’t be taking advantage of those bonuses anyway. Also, they now have unlimited talk and text. Yay! Or at least until the day I pick it up to make a call, and instead, it auto-connects to a support line talking about adding more minutes.

Confused, I check my account; it shows that the airtime is still good until the end of August while it’s the middle of June, but it doesn’t show talk or text at all — unlimited, zero left, or anything. According to the site, my plan only covers data. Further baffled, I call out again to get this support number. I’m slightly worried that there are no separate “technical” and “account” options, just “buy more time” and “support”. I connect with support and explain the problem with my account.

Support #1: “Okay, sir, I will ask you to please reset your phone.”

Me: “Um, I know that’s always the first step for tech support, but the issue is with my account, not my phone.”

Support #1: “Yes, sir, it appears that your phone is not connecting your account properly.”

Me: “Yes, it is. When I check my account — including from other devices — it shows that I don’t have any minutes or texts.”

Support #1: “I understand, sir. It is because your phone is not connecting to our network that it is not showing properly. If you could please restart your phone, then we will try to connect.”

Me: “I’m on the phone right now, talking to you. Can you call me on my home number?”

Support #1: “Yes, sir. Please restart your phone and we will see if it connects.”

Realizing I’m talking to a brick wall, I hang up, restart my phone, and call the main support line from my landline. Shocker, restarting my phone doesn’t fix an issue with the account.

Finally, I get through to someone with an almost impenetrable accent that I can’t even place, but they speak slowly, so at least I have time to try to figure out what they’re saying.

Support #2: “All right, sir, are you calling from the phone in question?”

Me: “No, I’m calling from my other line.”

Support #2: “All right, sir, thank you. Would you kindly restart your phone, please?”

Me: “I kind of just did. I had to call back because I called from that line and they asked me to restart.”

Support #2: “Yes, sir, if you could please restart your phone now.”

Me: “Oooookay.” *Does so* “All right, it’s back up.”

Support #2: “You should be able to make your calls now, sir.”

Me: “You sure about that?”

I punch in a number and put the phone on speaker.

Me: “Yeah, that sounds like your support line. Like I said, my account is messed up.”

Support #2: “Okay, sir, please, if we could, go into your phone’s network settings.”

Me: “Okay, but why, though?”

Support #2: “We need to be sure that your phone is connecting to the correct network.”

Me: “My account. Is currently messed up. It is not showing that I have any minutes, but I should have unlimited minutes.”

Support #2: “Yes, sir. If we are to fix this, once the network is corrected, this will fix your issues.”

Me: “I doubt it, but fine.”

I follow all the steps, restart my phone AGAIN, and make a call.

Me: “And it’s still not going through.”

Support #2: “All right, sir, thank you for your patience. I will ask if we can try to reset the network settings one more time.”

Me: “No. I want to speak to a supervisor, now.”

Support #2: “All right, sir, I can do the transfer for you, but if you would like to give me a chance, I am certain I can fix this for you.”

Me: “And I’m certain you can’t in any timely manner. Please send me to your supervisor.”

Eventually, I get through. I explain the situation, and the supervisor takes a look at my account. They say something in a language I don’t understand, but they do NOT sound happy about it. They also start rapid typing in a way that sounds like a machine gun going off.

A minute later, they pipe up again.

Supervisor: “I’m very sorry for all of this, sir. I have made some changes to your account. I do not know how this happened. If you could, please type [button combination] on your phone. Depending on the model, it may ask you to reset after connecting.”

I hit the buttons. It confirmed reactivation, and the message said to reset. I reset. I made a test call, and THE CALL WORKED! It really is amazing what happens when you listen to the actual problem the customer is having.

I am the author of this story, and I’ve had another stunning interaction with our telco.

It’s September, and the new iPhone is about to be released, so many retailers are having a fire sale on the older models. My mother decided it was time to upgrade her dinosaur to a now-obsolete iPhone 14. I convinced her to add it to her bill so she could pay it off monthly.

[Provider] also has a price-match policy, and that day, another retailer was advertising the same device for $200 cheaper. I’m authorised on my mother’s account, so I offered to call to set it up.

Consultant: “The account will need to be set up as direct debit/autopay to add the new phone.”

Me: “Is that necessary? I didn’t need to last time. And as a pensioner, Mum isn’t overly happy using direct debit.”

She placed me on hold, checked, and came back.

Consultant: “Your mother’s current plan is eligible, so direct debit won’t be necessary. And as a bonus, she will keep her pensioner discount!”

The order proceeded, and we finished the call. (Those familiar with the provider know they switched to direct debit a while ago and there is no other option, but we weren’t told that.)

Two weeks later, I asked my mum if her phone had arrived yet as I needed to set it up for her. It hadn’t, so I contacted [Provider]. They came back and advised me that the order had been cancelled because a direct debit agreement had not been set up — and nobody had contacted us to advise this before it was cancelled.

After trying to discuss it with a supervisor, I asked to lodge a complaint. (It’s worked twice before now, so why not?) The consultant took down the details and read it back as, “Customer not happy with direct debit”. I corrected him to ensure that it wasn’t just the direct debit but also the fact that nobody had contacted us to advise what the problem was, and we’d had to chase it up.

Twenty-four hours later my mother received an email.

Email: “Dear Customer: Regarding complaint [number], we are sorry you aren’t happy with our payment options. However, as direct debit is the only option we offer, we are not able to resolve your complaint to your satisfaction and consider the matter finalised.”

I saw red. I went straight to the ombudsman and explained what we had been through. The call took five minutes, and they promised we’d receive a callback shortly.

The next day, the [Provider] Ombudsman Complaints officer called back and clarified the details of our issue. I primarily explained that had someone called and said, “You need to do direct debit to get this deal,” we’d have done so.

The officer understood, apologised, and went to see what she could do.

Officer: “Unfortunately, the iPhone 14 is now completely unavailable. I cannot offer you the same deal.”

Me: “Surely, since this was not our mistake, there is something you can do to make it right?”

After much discussion that I’ll skip here, the offer was an iPhone 15, for the price of the 14.

Me: “But what about the price-match deal? We have screenshots of [Other Retailer]’s price on the day we took out the deal.”

The next offer was the iPhone 15 for the price of the 14, plus $200. But we’d lose the pensioner discount.

Me: “But we were told on the first call that we would still get the pensioner discount?”

The next offer included the discount, with thirty-six months credit, as well. 

So, after all is said and done, my mother pays an extra $5 per month than she would have had everything gone through the first time, but she also received over $500 off a brand-new iPhone.

Moral of the story: all of our telcos are bad in Australia, but if you know the system and insist on your rights as a consumer — and wave an ombudsman stick if they don’t fix the problem — you will generally make out pretty good.

Related:
Isn’t It Literally Your Job To “Figure It Out”?