To Mona Shaw, the 75 year-old lady who recently bashed in a Comcast customer service rep’s computer and telephone with a hammer, I have but one thing to say: Well done, ma’am. Well done.
How many companies, I wonder, inspire the creation of web sites with names like Comcastmustdie.com? Those lovable sudoku-maniac tortoises, Bill and Karolyn Slowsky, are not merely marketing gimmicks. I have a sinking feeling they actually run the customer service division.
The company notes that it “has more than 25 million customers, the overwhelming majority of which are very satistified with their service.”
Ahem . . .
We pay for their services because they have a monopoly in this area, and because I have even less trust in our local phone company than in Comcast, ever since that time I moved into my first apartment and arranged to have phone service set up, only to see Sprint Local (a rule of business: when a company runs into too much trouble, it pulls a Phillip Morris and changes its name, preferably to something so amorphous that no one can tell what it does — in this case the phone company in question is now known as Embarq) fail to connect me for a whole month afterward and then bill me for a month of non-service.
After two years of repeated calls to Comcast and repeated fixes, by the way, we still cannot tune in the even numbered digital cable channels between 150 and 160, and the reception in quite a few other channels that we are supposed to get remains an on again, off again thing. On a more humorous note, there’s the time Comcast dug up our neighbors’ lawn without warning in order to lay new cable lines. Compared to my experience with the phone company, Comcast is hideously overpriced with crap service, but at least it sort of functions more often than not. That’s the definition of “Comcastic:” an awfully low standard of excellence to set for a company.