It's Comcasticated

They call. They mail. They email. They spend a fortune on advertising on TV, radio and print. They are relentless. And when they finally get you to buy, they just don't know how to treat customers.

The young lady on the phone had to check with a supervisor "Hold please..." call me back, "5 minutes..." and call me again next week to make sure they could switch over my three lines. When we finally got it done, I had to hold some more so the computer could ask me again if I was not being waterboarded when I agreed to switch from the last whiz-bang digital service to the latest whiz-bang digital service.

The technician shows up and says, "Three lines? I can't do three lines." At the door, I told him that I was told he could. The young lady on the phone even checked with her supervisor and called me back. The technician went off to make a call and I went to the kitchen to finish a task while he sorted out the three line issue. He comes into the house while I am in the kitchen. That's right; he let's himself in. He hasn't been in the house yet and hasn't been invited into the house yet. We spoke at the door. He let himself in. Risky and rude.

He tells me at some considerable length about how he keeps all the latest gear in his truck and if the three line (actually four) modem was available, he would have one. "It's beta in Vermont, so you would be beta here, but not really beta." He leaves promising to get back to me when he has the right modem.

A few days later the young lady calls me back wondering why the installation was canceled.

It's Comcasticated!