The right of a monopolist
I’ve been on the phone for the last forty minutes or so. With the phone company (and that’s important). You see, they called me.
Some time ago (the exact date is of no real importance), we decided that a quarter century of mediocre service was enough. We called the competition (again, that’s important), and took a solid step away from the (former) monopoly. Embraced the dark side. And the phone company (in their eyes, the only pretender to the throne) has never accepted that decision.
First, the cards and letters. Like a spurned lover, telling me that things would be better, if only we’d renew the relationship. Then, a cooling off period, where I started to believe that both parties had moved on.
Until this evening, when a customer service representative called me. A LOUD CSR. Things were different, and it was time for me to listen (as if I had a choice, even with the handset held at arm’s length). The phone company was a changed entity; leaner, meaner, faster. Fibre, baby. The competition would be playing catch up from here on in. Time for me to accept that the future was at hand.
Hold on there, Mama *ell. How so? Yes, she’d mentioned leaner, meaner and faster. I heard the message. And now I have a counter offer. After treating me as just another number for twenty-five years, (an expensive number, based on the fees I paid), I wanted proof.
“If you want me back, offer me two years of free service!” In monetary terms, a token for a corporation as well-heeled as yours. And I don’t think the CSR understood. When the line quality went from LOUD to noisy, it was time to cut the connection.
Someone called back, but I’ve got caller ID, even with the competition. This time, I reserved the right to not answer the insistent ringing.
