Pick A Number...a rule for all of us...the first rule. As a customer of our local cable company, the famous (or infamous...) cable boxes assigned to our account were performing at a less than stellar level, so today we decided to turn them in for new ones.
Our first trip to the local Comcast Customer Service location began at 10am this morning. It took a little more than 1/2 hour to complete our business, after which we came home with two new boxes (one new...one that looked to be older than the one we dropped off). We brought them in, hooked them up, and we were good to go...briefly. The one box didn't work.
After several calls to the Comcast Customer Service Call Center (which, I found out, was located in Washington State...) it was determined the only way to fix our "new" box was to return it and begin the whole process all over again.
Round 2 at the service center began around 3pm, and this time, the place was packed. I quickly grabbed a "Pick A Number" number. I found a place to sit down in the corner and I patiently waited to see which number would be called next. They had no customer service-esque number display on the wall, so listening for the next number was my only way of knowing who would be next.
And then I heard the number called out for all to hear. "55," the clerk behind one of the desks said to the masses of humanity all awaiting their delayed entertainment. 55 and I held 70. Oh well...I had no other option but to ride it out.
Surprisingly, the wait was not that long. I escaped and left the many patrons--several colorfully festooned with a myriad of tattoos--waiting for their number to be called and I came home. Once the many cables were secured to the shiny new marvel of modern technology, we turned on the TV and visual nirvana was ours once again. All was right with the world, and it only cost me a couple of hours of my time...