Customer Service Exists to Serve Me
I call my internet provider because my Wi-Fi dropped for 14 minutes. That’s right—fourteen. Barely long enough to microwave dinner, but I consider it an outrage.
A rep finally answers, cheerful as ever: “Thank you for calling, how may I help you today?”
“How may you help me?” I snap back. “By reimbursing me for emotional distress, for starters.”
She pauses. “Sir, your connection looks fine now.”
“That’s irrelevant,” I say. “The trauma has already occurred. Do you understand what it’s like to be mid-streaming a show, waiting for the cliffhanger reveal, and then—BOOM—buffering wheel of death? That’s not service. That’s sabotage.”
She apologizes. I interrupt. “Sorry doesn’t bring back the time I spent staring at a frozen screen. Do you know how much my time is worth? Hundreds of dollars an hour. I want a credit applied immediately.”
She puts me on hold. Big mistake. When she returns, she says, “Sir, we can offer you $5 off your next bill.”
“$5?” I exclaim. “That doesn’t even cover my latte habit, let alone the psychological toll of watching pixels collapse in real-time. If you won’t give me a full month free, then at least rename the Wi-Fi network in my honor. Something like: HotJosh_DeservesBetter.”
There’s silence on the line. Finally, she says, “One moment.”
Five minutes later, my internet is back, my account has a $10 credit (double what they offered), and yes—they actually renamed my router.
Because when you know your worth, even customer service scripts bend the knee.
