CHAPTER NINE
My expectations for any phone company are minimal. All they need to do is make sure there’s a dial tone when I pick up a handset, make sure my call goes through, and then at the end of the month, send me an accurate bill for services rendered. If I ask anything else, it is only that they be invisible, and do nothing to irritate me.
For over three weeks, AT&T properly filled that role. Then on June 23, my monthly bill arrived.
It took exactly 4.7 seconds from the moment the envelope was opened for the parts about sending me an accurate bill and doing nothing to irritate me to implode. Images of rolled up newspapers came instantly to mind. Again. They were just as quickly discarded as being woefully inadequate to the situation at hand. I began to consider more substantial options. Something with the name Louisville Slugger on it, for example. Maybe Lockheed-Martin.
I wondered if what I was looking at could possibly be a joke. Since I did not hear myself laughing, I decided it was not. Here’s what I did discover, however.
1) Remember the credit they promised for past overcharges on international long distance? Didn’t happen. Remember how they had told me to just go ahead and deduct the amount of the overcharges? That amount was now shown as Past Due – Please Pay Immediately.
2) Remember how the long distance overcharges had been generated on calls to Canada and Mexico? They did it again…….which is to say that the pile of accumulated overcharges not only failed to go away, it actually got bigger.
3) And then there was my personal favorite in the continuing saga of the Bad Doggy School of Business Management. I have two business offices in the UK. Not too surprisingly, I have interoffice phone conversations from time to time. In reviewing the cost detail of the current bill, one such conversation rather jumped out at me. It was for a 35-minute chat, a not uncommon sort of occurrence, that at $.05 per minute, should have generated a charge of roughly $1.75.
You ready for this?
The actual charge was $147.70.
Instead of billing the call at $.05 per minute, the number actually used was $4.22 per minute. I was never a math major, but I’m pretty sure that comes out to just about 85 times what it should have cost. That’s one phone call, folks.
Now, lest I be accused of one-sided reporting, they did manage to get one thing right. My toll-free number was finally brought over and added to my call plan. Putting aside that it took them two and half months to get that sorted out, they did eventually get it right. Unfortunately, it was the only thing they got right.
Was it even possible, I kept asking myself, that AT&T and TCI, combined, could really be this utterly incompetent? If not, what was the alternate explanation? Was someone, somewhere, just having fun at my expense, yanking my chain as a way to satiate a really perverse sense of humor? After all, given the number of screw-ups, the repetitive nature of those screw-ups, and the complete and utter failure to fix those screw-ups, how can this degree of ineptitude be seen, be explained, as anything other than deliberate?
But why? Or more precisely, why me? AT&T must have somewhere around a gazillion customers, and from the ranks of those massive hordes, surely there must be someone more deserving than me of being culled out for abuse. I mean, I never bucked gazillion to one odds and won the lottery, so what are the chances of my having drawn the losing ticket in an AT&T customer dissatisfaction initiative?
But if not, I return to the initial argument, which is, how could a company of any size, but particularly a multi-billion dollar behemoth like this one, be so incomprehensibly clueless, so stupendously disorganized, so monumentally bungling without the presence of at least some degree of intent?
My conclusion? The question was unanswerable…….but, one thing was nonetheless certain. I’d had more than enough of AT&T. It took me a few days, but on July 6, I drafted and then faxed a new letter to Kevin. The essence of the letter was pretty simple. Should a cliff-note version ever be developed, it will read something like – Dear Kevin, you and AT&T are fired.
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After that letter was sent, I made a call to my previous long distance provider and basically begged them to take me back. It turns out that AT&T, by having failed to switch my toll-free number, and by thus having left my PNG account active, had actually done me a favor. Everything was still in place. The only thing that needed to be done was to change the PIC codes. PIC stands for Presubscribed Interexchange Carrier. There are over 2,000 long distance carriers, each of which are assigned a number that, when used, directs traffic and invoices to the proper destinations. In our case, we needed to have everything switched to PIC Code 0555.
The only bad news? PIC Codes are controlled and can only be changed by…..yep, AT&T. Tell me that’s not the fox guarding the henhouse.
So I called AT&T. After getting bounced around to three different people, I finally found someone who admitted having the ability to change my long distance carrier. I placed an order to do just that, giving the AT&T rep the PIC Codes I needed programmed. I was given a confirmation number and told it would take a couple days to make the change. The entire transaction took less than 40 minutes, which anyone who’s ever dealt with AT&T knows is like a heartbeat in the fabric of time.
Meanwhile, the June 15 invoice was still sitting here in need of attention. While placing the order to change the PIC Codes, I asked if I was speaking to someone who could provide help with billing issues as well. Of course having one-stop shopping would be too easy, wouldn’t it? From AT&T’s point of view, it’s apparently advantageous to have things compartmentalized, decentralized, fragmented, sufficiently scattered to make it as difficult as possible to conduct any business that falls outside the scope of ordering a new service. Thus the answer was no, sorry, we don’t deal with billing issues here. You’ll have to talk to our billing department for that. Their number is……
Having already spent way too much time stuck on the phone to get to this point, I decided it would be a much more productive use of my time to just send them a letter. So, I itemized a list of deductions from both the previous and current month’s invoices, wrote a check for the reduced total, which was about half of the invoice amount, and enclosed a letter detailing our parting of the ways and the reasons therefor.
Sayonara. Arrivederci. Auf Wiedersehen. Ciao. Bounjour et Bonsoir. Beat it. Scram. Hit the road, Jack.
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On July 10, I received written confirmation from PNG that they had received my order for service on four lines. Because I’ve got seven lines, not four, I promptly called them to find out what happened to the other three. Notwithstanding the letter, PNG confirmed that their records showed all seven lines were active, as they should be.
A few days later I received a letter from AT&T, dated July 11, which had been sent to “confirm your recent change in service.……..” and to inform me of a pending charge for “Adding or Changing your Intrastate Long Distance Carrier” and for “Adding or Changing your Interstate Long Distance Carrier.” Sure. Why not? It took someone a nanosecond to flip a switch somewhere. Stands to reason I’d get a bill for it.
But it was worth it. My dealings with AT&T were on the brink of being over, and if it cost a few bucks to get rid of them, I was more than willing to pay. Good riddance.
Or so I thought.
CHAPTER TEN
A couple of weeks went by. Around the third week of July, two invoices landed on my desk.
The first is from PNG, who has once again been handling my long distance again for the past couple of weeks. The bill struck me as a bit small at the time, but I checked my account status on their web site, noted that everything looked the way it should, and failed to give it a second thought.
A day or two later a second bill showed up, this one from AT&T. Hoping for the best but half expecting the worst, I took a deep breath, opened the envelope and, lo and behold, inside I found an invoice that was actually correct! Hundreds of dollars in credits had been posted to cover all of the over-billings of the past. All of the rates charged for the current billing month were correct. I couldn’t believe it, but there it was. Finally, at long last, now that I’d gotten rid of them, they had managed to get it right.
A day late and a dollar short, but that was their problem. I’ll give credit where it’s due. I finally got an accurate invoice.
Of course, I was still out a few bucks, because if any of this had been handled correctly from the start, I’d have only been getting bills for the past few months – including this month – from one phone company, instead of two. However, given the positive events of the day, it struck me as foolishly playing with fire to try to get any of the resultant double-billing eliminated. Let it go, I told myself. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Let that sleeping dog lie.
Walk away, chalk it up as a cost of doing business; the cost of a painful but useful lesson learned, and don’t look back.
Which is exactly what I did.
It was only much later that I began to wonder why I had never noticed or questioned the call dates that were reflected on both bills.
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Another month went by, late August arrived, and the newest monthly invoice from PNG showed up. I knew this was going to be the first bill since their reinstatement to reflect a full month’s activity. As I opened it, I recalled the small bill they had sent the month before. I fully expected that this one was going to be notably larger.
But it wasn’t.
Instead, the new invoice was the same size as the previous month’s bill, and the month before that, and the month before that, and…….. well, you get the idea. I could not quantify or verify anything, but a bad feeling came over me. Like Yogi said, it was déjà vu all over again.
I went to the PNG website, logged into my account page and checked my current status of services. There I was greeted with the news that only four of my seven phone numbers (one of the four being my main line) were showing as being active with PNG. My toll-free number also showed as active. My other three numbers were listed as inactive. Altogether, the total number of calls for which I had just been billed, and this is for a full month, was four.
Not four hundred.
Not four thousand.
Four.
Questions arise. Things like how? When? Why?
By whom?
Lots of questions. No answers.
One thing is certain; I was unhappy. Real unhappy. I wasn’t sure who I was unhappy with, at least not with verifiable certainty, but let there by no doubt that I had a suspect in mind. PNG was my designated long distance carrier. A few thousand calls made during the most recent billing period seemed to have gone astray. Was it possible?
A few days later an envelope with an all too familiar logo on it arrived at my office. I quickly opened it, then groaned as what I saw staring at me confirmed my worst fears were coming to pass. AT&T was supposed to be providing me with local phone and DSL service only. Their bill should have been a little over $300. It was instead about seven times that amount.
I read, and a few things were revealed.
First, all of the long distance calls itemized by AT&T have been produced by, or at least charged to, just two phone numbers.
Second, one of those two numbers shows as being active on PNG’s web site. I still haven’t figured out how that could be, or what it meant. Then again, I was done with AT&T and now they were somehow back and I haven’t figured out how that could be either.
Third, we have a new line item I’ve never seen before. It’s called “Contract Commitment Charge”, and on that line is a charge for $1,485.00. There is no reason, no explanation, no detail of any kind to indicate what the charge is for, though I can take what will probably be a pretty accurate guess. AT&T will no doubt call it something akin to an early cancellation fee. I’d be more inclined to call it extortion.
In either event, there is nothing to indicate the basis on which this charge has been calculated, and for the second time in recent months, familiar questions arise. Is there a formula of some kind being employed? Is there a corporate dartboard being used? Has a ouija board was brought into play?
But even those questions are overshadowed by the bigger underlying mystery.
AT&T was fired roughly seven weeks earlier. All of the PIC Codes were changed, which took them out of the long distance loop.
And now they were back.
A hijacking?
Could they do that?
It was a rhetorical question.
They obviously had.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I spent more than a week pondering options. Well, on second thought, let me rephrase that. I spent more than a week trying to identify an option.
This was absolutely new ground for me. If I don’t like the car I’m driving, I just get rid of it and pick up a new one. If my grocer or favorite restaurant or local service station or any one of hundreds of other stores or services fails to serve me well, I have the unrestricted option to take my money somewhere else. To the best of my knowledge, the only service I can’t get rid of if they do a lousy job is the US Postal Service.
But now it appeared that AT&T was trying to join the same rarified realm. They did not want to go quietly into that good night, and since they seemed to control all the systems and computers that propel everything, I was having a hard time figuring out what I could do about it. I mean it’s not like I could walk into their office and reprogram their computer myself. Aside from having no idea where the computer is, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with it even if I could locate it.
Besides, I assume that AT&T probably has an internal security force that would rival the size of most standing armies in the world. Given how they apparently treat customers, I could just imagine what they’d do to an intruder.
I spent time conducting online research, trying to find regulatory or statutory passages or provisions that might offer remedies should a de facto public utility try to force its services on someone, which was more or less what was happening here. While my research was not exhaustive – I do have a business to try to run – I came away with little to show for my efforts.
I had to do something, and I needed a place to start, so on or around September 8, I called PNG. I got right through to customer service, explained that AT&T was billing me for services that PNG was supposed to be providing, and asked them to check their computers to see what they had to say. They replied that they showed all seven lines, and my toll-free line, were being serviced by them. I then asked them if they had any thoughts on how call charges on some of those lines were being generated by AT&T, not them. The person I spoke with hemmed and hawed and stammered a bit, before finally saying that whatever was going on, it had to be something that AT&T had done or was doing.
They asked if I knew with certainty whether the PIC codes were set to 0555. I replied that the order to do so had definitely been placed, and that a confirmation of the change had been received, but there was no way for me to personally verify if they had really done it; or if they had recently changed them back…..as current evidence seemed to suggest. Because that was a limitation that PNG faced as well, we agreed that I had little choice but to get a hold of AT&T.
According to my most recent bill, the number to call for customer service was 1-800-448-1008. During the afternoon of September 10, 2009, I dialed that number. Let me recite for you how that effort went, and I make that offer with the caveat that I am not making up or embellishing any of what you are about to read.
2:52 pm – I called the number on my phone bill, and was connected to an automated system that utilizes voice recognition technology. For a couple of minutes a saccharine and nauseatingly obsequious mechanical voice tormented me with questions. In attempting to converse with this machine about the reason for my call, I discover that it’s limited vocabulary does not includes phrases such as “up yours” or “your company is screwed up”. Eventually it either got the information it required, or it gave up, I’m not sure which, because it finally asked me to please wait while my call was forwarded to the “appropriate department”.
On an unrelated side note, it is my fervent hope that the person who invented voice recognition answering systems is one day kidnapped by and made the communal love toy of a nomadic band of rabid marsupials. Whoever you are, I hate you. I’m pretty sure mankind hates you.
2:55 pm – The call is forwarded. I hear it ring on the other end. Another machine picks up. I am placed in the hold queue at what is announced as the “residential service center”.
3:02 pm – A live person answers the phone and after a brief exchange informs me that I have called the wrong department. This is residential services, I am informed, not business services. I am told I need to call 800-448-1008. I respond that that is the number I called. I think I hear the sound of a shrug at the other end as the person tells me that all they can tell me is to try again. DILLIGAF? Click.
3:03 – Once again I called the number on my phone bill, and was connected to an automated system that utilizes voice recognition technology. For a couple of minutes the same saccharine and nauseatingly obsequious mechanical voice tormented me with questions. In an effort to improve my odds of success, and fearful that my unexpected responses may have confused this technological savant, I avoided using phrases such as “up yours” and “your company is screwed up”. Instead I respond to all inquiries in my most pleasant, patronizing and mechanical type voice, hoping the machine will see and treat me as a kindred spirit. Once again I was asked to please wait while my call was forwarded to the “appropriate department”.
3:06 pm – The call is forwarded. I hear it ring on the other end. Another machine picks up. I am placed in the hold queue at what is announced as the “residential service center”. I hang my head. I moan to myself. As CCR once sang, “there’s a bad moon on the rise”.
3:15 pm – A live person answers the phone and after a brief exchange informs me that I have called the wrong department. This is residential services, I am told, not business services. Better yet, this time it is residential services for California customers only. I am told I need to call 800-448-1008. I respond that that is the number I called. Twice. I suggested there may be something wrong with their phone lines, but stifle the desire to suggest they call the phone company for help, just to see how that works out. The person on the other end, perhaps sensing my frustration, tells me she should be able to help transfer me to the right place. She asks me to sit on hold and warns me it may be for a minute or two. I thank her profusely, barely able to contain my gratitude.
3:20 pm. – A few minutes go by. I’d begun to wonder if I’d been forgotten. Then my savior lady in California came back on the line, informed me that she has found the right place to send me, and was about to put my call through. I thanked her again, then listened in as a number was dialed and –
Yes!
Hurray!
It is answered on the other end…..
…..and is then almost immediately disconnected.
I groaned. My savior in California groaned. She tried to put the call through again, then tells me that something has changed and she is and will be unable to try to transfer me as intended. She apologized, then essentially told me that there was nothing more that could be done on her end. I needed to dial the original number again and hope things go better.
3:22 pm – Once again I call the same number; the one that was on my phone bill. I was once again connected to an automated system that utilizes voice recognition technology. For a couple of minutes the same saccharine and nauseatingly obsequious mechanical voice tormented me with questions. I would kill this machine if I could. But I cannot. I am at its mercy. So I answered its infernal questions, but all the time I was wishing I could direct a lightening strike in its direction – one that would fry every circuit it has. Finally, I hear those familiar words, the ones that ask me to please wait while my call is forwarded to the “appropriate department”.
3:23 pm – The call is forwarded. I hear it ring on the other end. Another machine picks up. I am placed in the hold queue at what is announced as the “residential service center”.
My mother didn’t raise a complete fool.
I see where this is going.
I hang up.
3:24 pm – I called. Again. The same friggin’ number. The one on my phone bill. I get the same irritating voice recognition system. A lightening strike is no longer satisfactory, I decide. I’m now thinking earthquake, maybe a comet, definitely something that will leave total destruction in its wake. I answer the questions for the umpteenth time. Once again the machine asks me to please wait while my call is forwarded to the “appropriate department”. “I hate you”, I said to the departing voice. “May all your progeny be afflicted with viruses and encrusted in rust.”
3:25 pm - The call is forwarded. It rings. Another machine picks up. It is the “residential service center”. Again. A comet is too good for them, I decide. There needs to be some pain and suffering involved. I picture a tanker of Coca-Cola being poured over its neural networks, slowly, smoke rising from its chips. If there is disease and pestilence that can imperil machinery, I commit myself to conjuring it.
I hang up. Again
3:26 pm – I called again, unable to stop myself in the face of the immutable challenge. I’ve begun documenting everything that is going on because I know it is more than I’ll be able to reconstruct in the future. Besides, who would believe it unless I have a record? The way this is going, there could be a book in the making. I’m not sure if it will be a comedy or a tragedy. I’m wondering how close I may be to a Guinness World Record. I suspect I have a ways to go.
The phone rings and rings. I prepare myself for the mechanical voice I have come to hate.
And then a miracle occurred.
Someone picked up.
A real person, not a machine. It is a female. I’d have been happy with a golden retriever at that point, but a female was even better.
And then a second miracle occurred. It’s not residential services, this time. I have actually, finally, reached the business services department.
I was ready to kiss my telephone, a far cry from the sign language I’d been flipping it for much of the afternoon.
I quickly explained the nature of my call, added in my travails of that afternoon, and begged her to not let me get disconnected. She promised me she would not let that happen. In response to her request I provided my name and number. I can hear her typing on the other end. A second goes by, then she says, “Ooops. This is an agent account.”
Ooops is not a word I’m thrilled to be hearing right now.
“Agent account,” I repeat. “What does that mean?”
“You are serviced by a company called Total Communications, Inc.?” she asks.
I roll my eyes, morosely admit she is correct, then ask if I may explain why I’d just as soon keep them out of this. She agrees to listen and for the next few minutes I explain what has transpired since roughly the first of April. I talk about liaisons who did not liaise. Go-to guys that were not. I hear typing at the other end, but she is otherwise silent as I tell my tale of broken promises, failed agreements and disappointing results. I’m not sure if her silence indicates commiseration or judgment, but I proceed as if I’ve got a papal blessing. Finally I explain that I have two purposes in calling. One, I need to check on and possibly adjust my current PIC Codes. Two, I have a charge on my current bill for $1,485.00 that I need explained, and more importantly, removed.
PIC codes are easy, she says. She tells me to send her a fax or email providing the details of what lines are involved and what the PIC code is supposed to be on each. An email with that information was sent at 4:48pm that same day.
However, she can’t help me with the billing, she apologizes. That activity is handled by their billing group in Cleveland, and “all I can do is send in a request for information, then get back to you with the response.” She then utters those words I’d heard too many times from Kevin of Total Communications, Inc., aka TCI, out of East Hartford, CT.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
She told me her name was Wanda Devereaux. I guess at the spelling of her last name. She gave me all of her contact information and I thanked her for any help she could provide. The call ended at 3:51 pm.
