You had to provision us a third line in order to send out the phone. Okay, we get that. You were more than willing to cancel one of the lines when we received the phone and let us return the old one. We get that, too–thanks for that, by the way. That was almost too easy. Which, I suppose, should have given me reason to start developing that nervous twitch I get right about the time things start going to shit. It didn’t. My mistake.
We sent back the phone, as agreed. We sent back the third line’s sim card as well, simply because you shipped it to Petawawa with an Ottawa number. Yeah, brilliant. Really. We then got the pleasure of playing hell for the month of December trying to get that line cancelled. By the way, do you have any idea how difficult it is to clue someone who doesn’t appear to be overly enthused about actually doing that whole listening thing? Neither did I until now.
Just this morning, after bouncing right over yet another customer service agent’s head and speaking to–and cluing once again–yet another manager, the Ottawa number is *finally*, I hope to hell, deader than dead. But that really didn’t need to take this much arm twisting to accomplish, Rogers. No, not even if the first 7 agents I spoke to were brainless. Work on this. For serious. Because the first time someone else comes out with a phone I don’t have to bastardise to get to actually speak to me, I’m running like hell anywhere else. I pay you guys way too much to have to do this dance.
PS: By the way, thanks for the $56 credit on the account. It’s the least you could do, considering I had to go chasing after my scheduled callback. Let’s not do this dance again.