I HATE PETER AT A BIG, BULLSHIT CORPORATION

I feel like I’m a pretty fair guy, Peter. I’m willing to be patient with people on the other end of the phone that I’ve never met, not because I’m trying to grease the wheels but just because I’m a decent guy. I called because my CD-ROM drive doesn’t work. You gave me some automated bullshit, which I expected, so that’s no big deal. But when I finally spoke to someone his name was “Kevin” and not Prakesh or Raj or Samir or some perfectly acceptable Indian name you’ve made him change. I don’t blame him for the charade, and I try my best to understand his accent because I figure, hey, I don’t speak a word of his language and he’s pretty good at speaking mine, so he’s the smart one in this conversation. But you know, I’m talking to someone in India and the connection isn’t always good halfway around the world, so I lose the call. I call back and traverse the same bullshit, but now I’m talking to “Rock.” Okay, Rock, let’s do this. I try to explain how I extended the warranty and had the laptop fixed a month ago. But I can barely hear Rock because of the static, so I just have to hang up. Round three. I call and get to the last level before the boss, which is ten minutes of waiting, listening to elevator music. Then you come on the phone in your automated bullshit voice: “We are no longer going to help you at this time. Hang up.” FUCK OFF INTO OUTER SPACE! You FUCKBAG! What the fuck kind of customer service is this? I’m supposed to wait for 10 minutes, after an hour and a half of getting the runaround for you to INSTRUCT ME TO HANG UP?!! It wasn’t “we’re sorry, but we can’t help you at this time” which would have been one tiny scintilla better, but “We are no longer going to help you at this time.” I want to yank your nipples off and stuff them in your nostrils and fill your mouth with cement until you expire. But I can’t, because you’re not a real person, Peter, you’re a service offered by a very big, bullshit corporation that likes to sodomize people (metaphorically) through a very convoluted system involving intelligent, urban Indian twenty-somethings and an automated spiked vibrator service. Now I’m just going to take it somewhere else to someone who won’t be such a royal cocktease and who will just fix my damn CD-ROM drive.

-Ripped Off in Rochester