Sprint PCS Can Lick My Hairy Love-Slit
07.04.05 (2:03 pm) [edit]Well, you weren't expecting THAT one, eh?
You have to love a company that is apparantly mostly staffed by 22-year olds right out of some unaccredited college who are impressed by shiny hand-held objects. "Oooh! A PHONE! I want to work for a PHONE company!"
And of course, the assholes in charge hire them and say, "OK, 1 plus 1 is 2, the phones come in silver, black, and pink, here's your desk, there's the toilet. Go to work!"
After getting one confusing bill, and another letter from them apparantly written in fucking SANSKRIT, I had to talk to these fuckers. I don't think you should be allowed to own a business unless you can communicate in a language that least 4% of your customers can comprehend. The fucking IRS must train these cocksuckers in wording their documents. I get this letter telling me SOMETHING, but I don't know what it is. It could be about the phone bill, it could be about my PILES. I don't fuck KNOW. If I'd recieved an envelope with fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls inside and a note in red crayon saying "Johnson, be back soon. The petunias are barking." it MIGHT have made less sense.
And my brain can't fucking take it. Who the hell is Johnson? Is he supposed to be back soon, or is the waterhead who wrote this fucking thing going to be back soon? Where are the petunias, what color are they, and why are they barking? Oh, I can HEAR them barking. I can HEAR them just fucking FINE. Because I'm out of BOOZE right now, and the only thing I CAN hear are the fucking petunias barking! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT ABOUT??? I asked for a phone bill, not the fucking DaVinci Code!
Well, it was about the limit on my spending a month. Got it figured out. And lemme tell ya, if I spend $200 a month on goddamn phone calls, I WANT them to shut it off.
But to finally determine this, I first had to call customer service. Apparantly these people hate people, because they won't TALK to anyone. They put you on hold, then run off naked into the night, probably to bark with the fucking petunias. I was on hold for a LONG time. Finally I gave up and drove out to the office. There was SEVENTY-FOUR THOUSAND PEOPLE in line. Probably there to find out about the petunias.
I went across the street and bought some cheese and sardines. What ELSE was there to do? I went to Goodwill and looked at furniture, because a fucking CHAIR would kick my current budget in the ass. Then I went back to Sprint. Now there were only 47,000 people. Progress in action. But I'm not into standing in line that long. I wouldn't stand in line that long to fuck the sweet little blonde girl at the desk. And believe me, I thought about it. But let's face it - after 47,000 other people have been there first, she ain't gonna be nearly as much fun.
I left and called customer service again. And finally got somebody. Human. Who spoke English. An Oriental lady who spoke English better than anyone I've seen all week, and was actually SMART AND INFORMATIVE, which means she'll probably be fired soon.
And all is well. Until the NEXT time, when I'll probably be charged for calls to SOMALIA made by some guy in western Utah. FUCK Sprint. Fuck everyone who LOOKS like Sprint.
Dougie