Wednesday, June 25, 2003
The deal sounded just about right, high-speed DSL for under $40 a month. After years of dialing-up my home Internet access, the marketing folks at Verizon had succeeded in beating their product into my head. Several clicks and a credit card later and my entry into the land of high-speed internet access was on the near horizon. Or so I thought.
The box that arrived at my door several days later contained all the things I would need to enter the land of DSL. According to the directions, I would be hooked up in three easy do-it-yourself steps as soon as my landline was verified for service. It all seemed so promising and simple. I should have known this was going to be an episode in customer service hell when the email arrived estimating my DSL ready date at five weeks away.
Since it was still the end of May, I figured the June 27th ready date must have been a misprint. My initial call to the Verizon customer service folks quickly dispelled this rumor. Apparently the ad blitz for the their service had worked, because that date was in fact accurate. I’ve never had good experience with wireless providers making deadlines, so it was with great surprise when the email trumpeting “the last day you have to deal with dial-up” arrived four days ahead of schedule. Lies, nothing but lies.
I eagerly dugout the now dust-covered package I’d received weeks earlier and began put their one-two-three installation process to the test. What they fail to tell you is that there are approximately 102 sub-steps to each step. To their credit, step one was pretty easy, involving nothing more than fitting a few phone jacks with special filters that allow for clear phone signals while allowing unfettered DSL signals directly to your computer. Step two is where it got a bit dicey.
It seemed simple enough, connect your new modem to the computer. Even the friendly voice on the set-up disc made it seemed to easy, until it couldn’t find the proper driver to establish the connection I needed. A bit of trouble-shooting and I was dialing for tech support. Now, they call it support, but I really think they should consider naming it Tech Appeasement because while you are most likely not going to get a solution to your problem, they do have a way making to feel warm and fuzzy about it. Actually, Tech Roulette might be more suitable because really press your luck when dialing for help.
The first couple of calls had me believing it was a direct problem with the operating system on my computer. Of course, I knew it wasn’t a problem with my operating system, but the tehc lady was so nice, she actually convinced me it may have been and got me of the phone. I got lucky with the third person I reached. She was extremely knowledgeable and actually spent a good half hour on the phone with trying to help me get connected. After going through several steps, she concluded it may be a problem with the phone cord I was using or I needed to reinstall Windows. The former option being more easily rectified, we said our goodbyes and I went and changed the phone cord. Still nothing.
Dialing for answers a fourth time, I quickly realized I was pressing my luck. Again, the wise person in me should have been on alert when the tech guru I connected with had her system crash. The fact it took her five minutes to resolve her own system issues tells you where this call went, rapidly downhill. She must have been new to the job because she was clearly going through the Verizon corporate manual on tech support, getting me nowhere fast. And then came what I was dreading, she had to submit a help ticket to the central command, which near as I can tell, means the solution to my problem is churning somewhere in the black hole of Verizon tech support.
So here I sit, still cranking-up the old dial-up stuck on step 2.12 of their easy one-two-three installation plan praying I’ll get a call in a few days. I suppose the lesson here is buyer beware. I’m sure this will get worked-out eventually but if this is any indication of the service I have in store, I can only imagine what customer service will say when I request three hours of my life back. I’ll tip my cap to their marketing folks though, clearly there is a sucker born every minute. Last day of dial-up my ass.
The box that arrived at my door several days later contained all the things I would need to enter the land of DSL. According to the directions, I would be hooked up in three easy do-it-yourself steps as soon as my landline was verified for service. It all seemed so promising and simple. I should have known this was going to be an episode in customer service hell when the email arrived estimating my DSL ready date at five weeks away.
Since it was still the end of May, I figured the June 27th ready date must have been a misprint. My initial call to the Verizon customer service folks quickly dispelled this rumor. Apparently the ad blitz for the their service had worked, because that date was in fact accurate. I’ve never had good experience with wireless providers making deadlines, so it was with great surprise when the email trumpeting “the last day you have to deal with dial-up” arrived four days ahead of schedule. Lies, nothing but lies.
I eagerly dugout the now dust-covered package I’d received weeks earlier and began put their one-two-three installation process to the test. What they fail to tell you is that there are approximately 102 sub-steps to each step. To their credit, step one was pretty easy, involving nothing more than fitting a few phone jacks with special filters that allow for clear phone signals while allowing unfettered DSL signals directly to your computer. Step two is where it got a bit dicey.
It seemed simple enough, connect your new modem to the computer. Even the friendly voice on the set-up disc made it seemed to easy, until it couldn’t find the proper driver to establish the connection I needed. A bit of trouble-shooting and I was dialing for tech support. Now, they call it support, but I really think they should consider naming it Tech Appeasement because while you are most likely not going to get a solution to your problem, they do have a way making to feel warm and fuzzy about it. Actually, Tech Roulette might be more suitable because really press your luck when dialing for help.
The first couple of calls had me believing it was a direct problem with the operating system on my computer. Of course, I knew it wasn’t a problem with my operating system, but the tehc lady was so nice, she actually convinced me it may have been and got me of the phone. I got lucky with the third person I reached. She was extremely knowledgeable and actually spent a good half hour on the phone with trying to help me get connected. After going through several steps, she concluded it may be a problem with the phone cord I was using or I needed to reinstall Windows. The former option being more easily rectified, we said our goodbyes and I went and changed the phone cord. Still nothing.
Dialing for answers a fourth time, I quickly realized I was pressing my luck. Again, the wise person in me should have been on alert when the tech guru I connected with had her system crash. The fact it took her five minutes to resolve her own system issues tells you where this call went, rapidly downhill. She must have been new to the job because she was clearly going through the Verizon corporate manual on tech support, getting me nowhere fast. And then came what I was dreading, she had to submit a help ticket to the central command, which near as I can tell, means the solution to my problem is churning somewhere in the black hole of Verizon tech support.
So here I sit, still cranking-up the old dial-up stuck on step 2.12 of their easy one-two-three installation plan praying I’ll get a call in a few days. I suppose the lesson here is buyer beware. I’m sure this will get worked-out eventually but if this is any indication of the service I have in store, I can only imagine what customer service will say when I request three hours of my life back. I’ll tip my cap to their marketing folks though, clearly there is a sucker born every minute. Last day of dial-up my ass.
