Want a real good example of a classic case of domestic violence?
From a phone conversation this morning:
Her: How can I help you?
Me: I have a scheduled cable hook-up next Tuesday, and I'd like to change the order to add a TIVO box.
Her: Could you give me your address?
Me: Okay . . . . (rattles off new address).
Her: Is that a new development?
Me: Not really sure. It might be.
(long pause)
Her: Well, we'll need to send a technician out to determine servicability in your area. That will take three to four business days.
Me: I'm sorry, no, I already have an appointment for hookup scheduled. It's this Tuesday from 5:00 to 7:00. I just want to add the TIVO to it.
Her: What's your name again?
Me: (repeats it)
Her: Could I have the phone number of the residence?
Me: (gives that to her)
Her: Could I have your social security number?
Me: (gives that, too)
Her: Oh, now I see it. You're scheduled for installation from 5:00 to 7:00 pm on Tuesday, March 7th. . . . . (long pause). . . . . Is there anything else I can help you with?
*Sigh*. Not the shiniest ornament on the Christmas tree, are you? The rest of the conversation took another forty-five minutes. At the end of it, she told me that the addition of the TIVO would change my installation appointment. . . . to Tuesday, March 7th from 5:00 to 7:00 pm. I didn't argue.
While we're touching on the subject of television: anyone planning on watching Battlestar Galactica this Friday? Would you like company? Or to DVD or tape it for me?
Pretty please?
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