“For Whom Bellsouth Tolls”
If you tried to send an email
to me, and it "bounced back", it's because my friends at Bellsouth were
trying to help me.
It all started when we upgraded to DSL. I told Bellsouth that I had to keep the email address from my dial-up account: dougshaw@bellsouth.net. So they helped me set up my new DSL account (which had a stupid email address that I couldn't remember) and then helped me set up everything so I could still retrieve the email from the other email address.
There were a lot of setup charges for the DSL line, so I ignored the first bill, which was a rather enormous. But I had "rebate" forms to fill out, to recoup that money, so I waited for the bills to subside.
On Monday, the latest bill from Bellsouth was still extremely high, so I started reading the fine print. It turns out that they have been charging us for a DSL account AND a dial-up account. I called Bellsouth and told the woman at their billing department about the gross overcharge. She promised to refund a substantial amount of money, and assured me that the dial-up account would be taken off of our records.
On Tuesday, I tried to retrieve my email, only to be told (by an un-diplomatic pop-up window) that my account had been canceled. So I called Bellsouth again, and talked to another woman. I told her about the my current problem, and about the phone conversation from the day before. She replied "Oh lohdy... dat girl done messed you up. But don choo worry none; I can fix you up Mistuh Shaw."
Let me divert this tangent for a moment and say that it's comforting to talk to somebody who speaks a form of American-English. Last week, I had a question about a network router hub, and spent 35 minutes trying to communicate with Tech Support in India. "Jou ned for to type 'deh' oz en 'duh-veed' den 'beh' oz en 'bah-bae'... OK?" She repeated that line numerous times before I finally ascertained that I should be typing a "D" (David) and a "B" (baby). By comparison, speaking to the southern black woman at Bellsouth seemed like an opportunity to converse with a master of linguistics.
Now, back to Tuesday's fiasco. This sweet Georgia woman promised that my old email would be set up within 24 hours. Until then, I could log in through my DSL account... which was something stupid like "DC871"... where I didn't have any email because nobody knew the address... not even me.
On Wednesday, I cranked up the computer and logged on to get my email. No such luck. Another impersonal message said that the new stupid DC871 account had been closed. So I tried my old email account, and another message box told me that I was using the wrong password. So I poured a glass of wine and picked up the phone.
I called Bellsouth again... which wasn't much of a problem because I have now memorized all of the key-push sequences that will take me through the 17 levels of automated-answering-system Hell. While waiting for "the next available Technical Support Representative" I listened to low-quality muzak renditions of bad songs and drank my wine... then I filled the glass again.
I was finally connected to a seemingly nice gentleman, and I spilled out a condensed version of the recent Bellsouth-born chaos. He told me that they had canceled the new stupid email account and replaced it with my old account. However, in the process, they changed my email password... an event that I was unaware of because I could not receive the notification that Bellsouth emailed to me.
So I told him my old password and the seemingly nice man changed my email password. Then I got yet another glass of wine. When I tried to log back onto the internet, another annoying pop-up told me that I had been denied access. I retrieved the wine bottle from the kitchen, and called Bellsouth again.
I talked to another nice woman who told me that the seemingly nice man had changed my email password, but not my internet password, which caused Bellsouth's computer to go into convulsions and lock me out. (Apparently, the two have to match.) Then the woman told me that she had successfully switched my password back to the new password... the one that I still didn't know because I still couldn't get my email.
"No... I want to use my OLD password."
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't know your old password."
"That's okay, ma'am... I DO!"
So I recited my password and she typed it into my account (in both places) while I polished off the wine. Perfect timing. If this had been a two-bottle fiasco, she wouldn't have been able to understand my password; I would have sounded like Tech Support from India.
"Jou ned for to type 'deh' oz en..."
© 2004 Douglas Shaw.It all started when we upgraded to DSL. I told Bellsouth that I had to keep the email address from my dial-up account: dougshaw@bellsouth.net. So they helped me set up my new DSL account (which had a stupid email address that I couldn't remember) and then helped me set up everything so I could still retrieve the email from the other email address.
There were a lot of setup charges for the DSL line, so I ignored the first bill, which was a rather enormous. But I had "rebate" forms to fill out, to recoup that money, so I waited for the bills to subside.
On Monday, the latest bill from Bellsouth was still extremely high, so I started reading the fine print. It turns out that they have been charging us for a DSL account AND a dial-up account. I called Bellsouth and told the woman at their billing department about the gross overcharge. She promised to refund a substantial amount of money, and assured me that the dial-up account would be taken off of our records.
On Tuesday, I tried to retrieve my email, only to be told (by an un-diplomatic pop-up window) that my account had been canceled. So I called Bellsouth again, and talked to another woman. I told her about the my current problem, and about the phone conversation from the day before. She replied "Oh lohdy... dat girl done messed you up. But don choo worry none; I can fix you up Mistuh Shaw."
Let me divert this tangent for a moment and say that it's comforting to talk to somebody who speaks a form of American-English. Last week, I had a question about a network router hub, and spent 35 minutes trying to communicate with Tech Support in India. "Jou ned for to type 'deh' oz en 'duh-veed' den 'beh' oz en 'bah-bae'... OK?" She repeated that line numerous times before I finally ascertained that I should be typing a "D" (David) and a "B" (baby). By comparison, speaking to the southern black woman at Bellsouth seemed like an opportunity to converse with a master of linguistics.
Now, back to Tuesday's fiasco. This sweet Georgia woman promised that my old email would be set up within 24 hours. Until then, I could log in through my DSL account... which was something stupid like "DC871"... where I didn't have any email because nobody knew the address... not even me.
On Wednesday, I cranked up the computer and logged on to get my email. No such luck. Another impersonal message said that the new stupid DC871 account had been closed. So I tried my old email account, and another message box told me that I was using the wrong password. So I poured a glass of wine and picked up the phone.
I called Bellsouth again... which wasn't much of a problem because I have now memorized all of the key-push sequences that will take me through the 17 levels of automated-answering-system Hell. While waiting for "the next available Technical Support Representative" I listened to low-quality muzak renditions of bad songs and drank my wine... then I filled the glass again.
I was finally connected to a seemingly nice gentleman, and I spilled out a condensed version of the recent Bellsouth-born chaos. He told me that they had canceled the new stupid email account and replaced it with my old account. However, in the process, they changed my email password... an event that I was unaware of because I could not receive the notification that Bellsouth emailed to me.
So I told him my old password and the seemingly nice man changed my email password. Then I got yet another glass of wine. When I tried to log back onto the internet, another annoying pop-up told me that I had been denied access. I retrieved the wine bottle from the kitchen, and called Bellsouth again.
I talked to another nice woman who told me that the seemingly nice man had changed my email password, but not my internet password, which caused Bellsouth's computer to go into convulsions and lock me out. (Apparently, the two have to match.) Then the woman told me that she had successfully switched my password back to the new password... the one that I still didn't know because I still couldn't get my email.
"No... I want to use my OLD password."
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't know your old password."
"That's okay, ma'am... I DO!"
So I recited my password and she typed it into my account (in both places) while I polished off the wine. Perfect timing. If this had been a two-bottle fiasco, she wouldn't have been able to understand my password; I would have sounded like Tech Support from India.
"Jou ned for to type 'deh' oz en..."
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