Obviously, I am livin' life wrong in '09, because I'm being punished by the tech gods. Woke up yesterday: couldn't make calls; couldn't get calls.
I don't talk on the phone much, so it took me a few angry emails to realize that it wasn't even working. Oddly, I still had text, email, and online. But then, apparently, I sprained those -- because today, right after AT&T managed to get the phone part working (they had to re-boot the phone, and some device number didn't match something else), the pearl on the blackberry stopped scrolling. Again. And again, it will go right, and left, but not up or down (so, no rolodex, no texting, no emailing, and definitely no blogging).
I'm typing this out at an actual desktop (yeah, yeah, like an animal).
This is my second replacement BlackBerry since FEBRUARY, so I suggested to AT&T that they have a DESIGN FLAW on their hands.
But once they transferred me to Amy, in "warranties," I relaxed. Amy has the voice of an angel, and she speaks SOUTHERN.
I have no problems with the good people of Bangelor (I saw the "30 Days" installment on outsourcing), but I did lose a LOT of hearing from my early days as a music critic, and I can't always decipher accents -- as my Boston friend Sandy will attest. Amy soothed me with reassurances like, "don't you worry, we're fixin' to be done here in just a minute..."
After she assured me a replacement model would be winging its way to me as soon as we hung up, I asked her to spell her name, and asked if I could speak with her supervisor. Without even asking why, she assured me, "why yes ma'am, I surely can, if you don't mind holdin' for just one l'il minute."
Once the boss came on the line (improbably named Amy as well), I told her I just wanted to take a second to compliment (the other) Amy on how helpful she'd been, and how much I appreciated her speaking Southern to me.
The Boss-Amy responded, without missing a beat, "why, sure 'nuff." And she sounded sincere.
I still don't have a phone, but I feel a little better after talking to the Two Amys. Surprisingly, I very rarely take the time to complain. At least not in person. I do it later, in print.
But I picked up on the idea of complimenting people from my Dad. He always does it, and he always reminds me to ask for a supervisor -- that it isn't enough to say Thanks to the person who helped you; you have to tell their boss.
If the phone actually shows up on time, I might even write a letter.