Yesterday I had my FOURTH ATT repair technician out to my home, after I tweeted yet another problem I was having with my service. I’ve only had service with this company for four months, and it still isn’t consistently working properly.
The latest tech let me know that I am what they call a “frequent caller.” That’s usually code for, “that bitch is crazy.”
Perhaps I am. Technician number three assured me that I had the best service they could offer. How could there be more problems after an assurance like that? And Chris, who responds to my tweets, advised me that the problem wasn’t with ATT at all- this is all Google’s fault.
So now because I insist that I get the service I’m paying for, I’m the crazy repeat caller. After all, I AM a woman of a certain age, and I have a cat, don’t I? So of COURSE I’m crazy!
Remember ladies, don’t make waves. Girls who make waves are referred to their doctor for a prescription for antidepressants. If you had a REAL problem, you’d have a man handle it for you. Oh, you don’t have a man? Well, THAT explains a lot, doesn’t it?
This being a woman of a certain age thing isn’t easy. I thought it was bad when I was young and no one took me seriously. It hasn’t changed as I’ve gotten older; it’s actually gotten worse. Women like me are not important. Unlike the childhood friend who married well and has her “best friend” to do all the heavy lifting, I’m stuck doing it on my own. So there’s obviously something wrong with me.
That’s why guys at home improvement stores walk by me like I don’t exist while racing to help the young woman with the big boobs. And guys in their huge pick-ups driving at a slow-poke pace hoping to look down and see a young hottie instead see me trying to pass them, and suddenly develop a lead foot. Even commercials talk down about me. If you choose the competitor over Slim Jim, it’s like choosing an old woman with cats over the young, hip crowd.
So let’s get back to ATT. My latest tech, unfortunately, couldn’t repair my service, because ATT’s service was down all over town. But he gave me his cell number. I think the idea is I’m supposed to call him instead of tweeting about my problems with my service. You know, give the poor dear somebody to talk to so she’ll shut up?
Well, ATT, I’ve decided to use another method of communication instead. Still think this bitch is crazy?