Even while writing this, I realize there’s nothing that can be said about the miserable existence of a monopolistic internet service provider that hasn’t already been said. But I’m doing this for posterity. If my daughters grow up with no internet, they will know why—I’ve fucking had it with Comcast XFinity. They are a bunch of scammy assholes. They really should advertise that all their monthly bills come with sneaky guerrilla surprise attacks. Every bill is an adventure, really.
Here’s the deal: my very pregnant wife spent thirty minutes on the phone a month ago trying to negotiate a better internet deal in anticipation of a rate hike. After chasing the verbal parkour of their customer rep through a predictable course of sales bullshit, the rep finally conceded that if we just lowered our internet speed, we could keep our charges to $45/month. Glad to have softened the proud American kick in the groin that happens every time a 12-month promo ends, we agreed—slow down our internet, but save us some money. Also, cable company promos are basically legal ways of luring people into a soulless pit of desperation—one filled with the broken fingernails of all who have given up trying to climb out.
Anyway, now a month later we get our monthly bill and it’s $80. We call customer service, which is just Comcast’s euphemism for the free amenity they provide of carving you a new one. We ask how come our internet speed was slowed but we’re getting charged double what we agreed. At first, they pretend they don’t understand. We repeat ourselves. We try maybe talking slower. They quickly shift tactics, employing evasive maneuvers by aggressively transferring us to as many different people in as many different departments as possible. They try making us enter some 34-digit customer billing codes. “Hello, are you still there? Oh shit, you survived our 20-minute basic obstacle? Hold on, let me just transfer you to the giant obstacle. They will know what to do.” After an hour on the phone, and a pregnant wife that was about unleash 7 months of pressurized volcanic wrath on some unsuspecting giant obstacle, they give us their final offer: $60/month to remain on the slower internet.
We cancel our shit and climb to freedom.
Sometimes, becoming an adult is really just an initiation into the perpetual exercise of dealing with inane customer service reps. Not sure if everyone feels this way, but it is true. And for me, maybe God knows that without the constant friction created by my rage against some smug corporate entity, there would be insufficient conflict to drive the story arc of my life. So praise God, and God bless America.