The last couple weeks, while house hunting etc, I’ve had the opportunity to be on hold a lot. With agents, with tech support and with the IRS.
Let me backtrack.
Last week, I realized that if I swapped our cellphones to a Cingular family plan, I could save $20 a month. Sounded great, right? The flat fee to swap from AT&T to Cingular was $36 ($18 a phone) and then they send me new phones. It sucked, a little. I liked my existing phone, but the new one was going to be a little larger and considerably lighter. I could live with it, and I could use my office phone with my home SIM card … if I wanted to be devious. My SO’s new phone was a little larger, but came with the added benefit of caller ID on the outside of the flip phone, which she likes.
All this I should have been able to do online, but it keeps giving me weird errors and finally I give up and call Cingular. It’s noon, this should take me about 30 min to an hour, right?
Wrong.
They didn’t get me to a real person for 85 minutes. This is after 5 minutes of fucking phone trees. I happen to have a timer on my phone, so I kept track. When I finally get the guy, he has a little trouble understanding what I want to do. But I get the family plan, with rollover, and all is good. We go to enter the data, and I make a change. I want a different flip phone. No problem, click, click, whoops.
That’s not what you want to hear.
So, fine, he has to enter all my info all over again. My birthday, my phone, my SO’s phone, address, and so on. Then he asks for my driver’s license. I don’t have one. Never had. Never did. Never will. I hate driving. I have, instead, a State ID. The numbers work the same way, mind, and it’s never been a problem for anyone before. Except this jackass. After arguing, I tell him I work IT, I know how computers and databases work. The ID for driving and state are on the same database, and the entry should work fine. He doesn’t believe me, but agrees to try it.
It works. Duh. And he’s shocked.
After a grand total of 119 minutes, I hang up, assured my new phones will be here Friday. They showed up Thursday.
Today I get a letter from the IRS. Since I filed for my taxes to direct deposit, I’m a little perplexed. I open it up and it says ‘You’re not getting your money, you owe us money!’ The hell? I go to my returns and see right away what’s up. The letter says ‘This social security number, for your SO, is invalid.’ And damn me to tell, it is. I had a 4 instead of a 5. They have a number to call, and since my refund is sizable this year, I want it.
I’m on hold, naturally, for about 20 minutes. I get a nice lady with the ID of 9107822 (hi! I love you!). She sounds like Mrs. Landingham, who is currently doing a bit of guest work as G-d on Joan of Arcadia. Her voice is calm, soothing, and comforting. It sounds like warm cookies, fresh out of the oven. The lovely voice is relaxing.
Mrs. Landingham: Hi, this is Mrs. Landingham. How can the IRS help you today?
Me: Hi, I screwed up and made a typo on my return. First time in 10 years. Anyway, you sent me a letter saying I owed you money, and I know where the error is.
Landingham: *laughter* Okay, can I have your name and Social Security number?
We exchange vital info and she puts me on hold to look up my record. After five minutes, she returns.
Landingham: Hi, Ipstenu. I have your info here. Now, where did you say your error was?
Me: The Social Security number for Ipstenit.
Note, I gave Ipstenit’s real name, which isn’t Ipstenu. Yet. In a month, she will be. Anyway, off goes Mrs. Landingham to look up those records. Again, five minutes pass.
Landingham: Hi, still looking up the records. Sorry about this.
Me: That’s okay.
Landingham: Did you eFile?
Me: No, mailed it in. Fairly early.
Landingham; Oh there it is, yes you did. We appreciate that.
Me: I work for a bank, I totally know.
Landingham; So does my daughter. Alright, I have your returns. How much did we bill you?
Me: $172.
Landingham: And your math says we owe you … oh that is a difference. Okay, now, what’s Ipstenit’s full name and Social?
I give her that info and she goes off to verify that Ipstenit exists and is a valid dependant. Five minutes later.
Landingham: What’s your relation?
Me: Er, partners.
Landingham: Ah, thank you. I’ll be just a minute.
She didn’t sound surprised, or anything other than an apple-pie baking mother. I’m in love with her, and tell Ipstenit so. Time passes. How long? Five minutes.
Landingham: Still looking her up. While I’m at that, can I have your phone number?
I give it, and she heads off. A moment later, she’s back.
Landingham: Sorry, was that 49 or 69?
Me: 49.
Landingham: Thanks, I forgot to write it down. Okay. [reads my number back].
Me: No, its [corrected number].
Landingham: *laughs* Oh, Lord. Okay, I have it now. [correct number].
Me: You got it!
Again she’s off for five minutes. This time, she goes over my vitals, verifies everything, and goes to check my math. She stays on the phone and confirms I’m right, and that I’ll see my money in 2-4 weeks. She also admonishes me, in a pleasant way, to re-read my work. I blush and point out that in ten years, it’s my only mistake, and Ipstenit’s card is sucky to read. She suggests getting a new one, and I explain about the name change. She congratulates me and then asks if I have questions.
I do. I want to know if I can thank her supervisor. Fuck knows I never get a thank you, and they’re lovely. Her boss is out, and she gives me the address to send a letter.
We hang up and I feel chipper and excited. What a nice woman!
