I was in such a state of shock that until he had gone, the colossal mess he made hadn’t seeped into my consciousness. Now it hit me. Chunks of plaster, pieces of snipped wires, and crumpled wads of plastic wrap covered my bedroom floor; a hole he had drilled through the wall into my closet gaped empty; and inside the closet, paint peeled from the wall where he apparently had tried (and failed) to install the cable box. Even more debris littered the closet floor and decorated my clothes.
I couldn’t deal with it. Not yet. First I had to call Mr. Manager and schedule a re-installation. Better still, I decided to email him so I could document the details of the disaster in writing. I typed madly for twenty minutes and then hit "Send." I received an immediate reply. No, that wasn’t a good thing. It was a notice that my message could not be delivered. The email address, which I had copied from Mr. Manager’s business card was incorrect. Okay, so I’d telephone. I got a Voicemail response: "This is Moe Manager; I’ll be on vacation for three weeks. Leave a message, and I’ll call you when I return."
Hysteria resurfaced — big time. And that’s not like me. Really. But I calmed down enough to dial the company’s main support number and was put on hold for thirty-five minutes (I actually timed it) while a recorded voice periodically thanked me for my patience, which I had long since lost. When a live human finally got on the line, I sputtered my tale of woe. He promised to send someone the following day and — surprise! — he did. This time a neatnick who actually knew what he was doing, and who installed the cable box in the closet, where it should have gone in the first place.
But I then had to deal with a new dilemma: Since my old email address (myname@companyX.com) was no longer valid, I was forced to toss out about five hundred now-outdated business cards. Also, I had to notify everyone on my email contacts list that my address had changed. This time, instead of enrolling as myname@companyY.com, I decided to use a universal mail server address which I can keep two years from now when Company Y forgets that I’m a valued customer and jacks up my monthly rate.
Oh, yes. I’m sure that will happen. But that’s fine. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I know that Company X will be happy to take me back — as a New Customer at their reduced New Customer rate.
But don’t worry, Company Y. I’ll be back two years after that when I’ve again worn out my welcome with Company X. You may not recognize me. I’ll be a New Customer.
©2010 Rose Madeline Mula for SeniorWomen.com
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