perfidy

Let me invite you into a magical world of incompetence, omnigorence, and thumb-fingered cluelessness. One of the joys of moving is the task of navigating the treacherous waters of utility company bureaucracy. Before leaving the old house, the Casa de Buckethead, we had to cancel the water, electric, gas, phone and broadband services to the house. This we accomplished with a minimum of fuss, and as we approached closing day on Festung Buckethead, we began the process of scheduling services for the new place.

The first of two services that we needed was electricity, and in a matter of minutes on the phone Mrs. Buckethead successfully set that up, and they – as an added bonus – didn’t even ask for a security deposit. The missus, perhaps foolishly, began to feel a sense of optimism. Water at the new place is from a well, so we don’t need the water utility. There’s no gas, so no more Washington Gas, or any other. We’d decided to forego the landline phone since we both had cell phones, and it seemed an unnecessary expense, especially considering the fact that our Vonage service had gone pear-shaped, and begun connecting our incoming calls to someone in Germany with frightening regularity.

So, with a light heart and brimming with confidence, Mrs. Buckethead began calling local broadband providers to see who amongst them would like to have us as a paying customer. After some time spent waiting on hold, she determined that the local phone companies did not provide DSL service to the area. So be it, we thought! There’s always cable! Then began a parade of staggering ignorance, muddle-headedness and obtusity on a scale I have seldom witnessed.

Week before last, the missus began calling Adelphia. The first yahoo she talked to seemed constitutionally unable to realize that we were not calling for technical assistance.

Idiot: “I’ll have a technician return your call.”
Mrs. B: “We don’t have a technical issue. We want to set up service.”
Idiot: “Oh. Let me see. Okay. I’ll have a technician return your call.”
Mrs. B: “We are not customers. We wish to become customers. Do you provide service to our address?”
Idiot: “Let me transfer your call.”

So she waited on hold for a while. Then called again, and got another idiot.

Idiot #2: “I’ll have a service representative return your call, thank you.”
Mrs. B: “Don’t you need my phone number?”
Idiot #2: “Oh, yeah, that would help.”

That person told us that Adelphia didn’t provide service to our location. Given the paucity of intelligence evident in the Adelphia customer service department, I recommended to my wife that she call again, and see if she couldn’t talk to someone with somewhere north of a small ganglion. Which she did, and no joy. She even called the county planning office, and those people said that yes, sadly, there was no cable service in our area.

So, we resigned ourselves to getting satellite broadband. This was mildly disheartening – while the monthly charges for satellite are about on par with other services, it’s a smaller pipe, and you get horrific latencies, which makes using VoIP or VPNs over satellite connections problematic at best. And, as a special bonus, you get to pay $300 or more upfront to have the satellite installed.

There matters stood as we went into our closing. After we had signed away for an hour, the seller’s agent handed us a sheet of paper that listed some of the information for our property. Among the items listed was, “Adelphia cable installed.”

Homos say, “What?”

Well, if cable was already installed at that address, why hadn’t the tireless and dedicated staff at Adelphia been able to determine that they did, in fact, provide service to that address? We figured, based on the behavior of the seller, that perhaps she was exaggerating, or at best mistaken. It was an investment property for her, after all, and not a place she had ever lived.

So, the next day we moved in. And my mom found a cable outlet in the wall of the master bedroom suite. (I love that phrase.) Well, shit, says I. There is cable. So this morning, I head off to work, and the missus vowed to sort it out. She calls Adelphia, and they reluctantly admit that yes, maybe they provide service to our address. And if you want service, you have to show us a copy of your contract on the house to prove that you aren’t the deadbeats who lived in that house two years ago.

Well, okay. That actually never occurred to me. Run up the utilities, file a change of address, then sign up in a new name. Not a bad idea. Regardless, Mrs. B, the kids, and Grandma B. all pile in the car and head down to Front Royal in search of the Adelphia office. Why? Because no one in the office would admit to having a fax number to which we might fax the contract. Curse this modern era of lightning communications and enhanced productivity!

Of course, it was only fitting and proper that the office should prove to be one of those stealth offices that isn’t actually located on the street they said it was on. But after in excess of five hours on the phone, and one confusing drive into the big city, we are now scheduled to have our broadband hooked up Wednesday afternoon between the hours of noon and two. Given past performance, I am not exactly holding my breath.

You’d think that a cable company – any company, really - would actually like to have customers, rather than setting up near insuperable obstacles for potential clients. But then, I’m just a blogger and not some hot shot cable company owner, so what do I know?