This is not Progress
Yesterday, I attempted to upgrade the software in my Blackberry tour via the handset’s built-in software update function—it didn’t work. In fact, my phone simply stopped booting after the upgrade attempt. A quick Google search informed me my phone was “bricked,” as in “it’s basically a $400 paperweight”. After talking to some slack-jawed mouth breather at Sprint technical support for what seemed like an eternity, he finally gave up and suggested I claim the insurance on it. After an attempting to claim my insurance online failed, I dialed the number presented to me on the screen, where I was greeted by 10-15 minutes of automated phone tree menus reminding me at every step that I should file my claim online at the website that referred me to this very telephone number. Not one to give up so easily, I traversed the menus waited on hold, filled in the mobile telephone number I was calling about 5-10 times and reminded them, at every step of the way that I spoke English by pressing the number 2. It was a tricky affair, since just a minor mistake on the keypad would throw you all the way back to the beginning of the phone tree, like some 1990 video game, but I eventually reached an actual, real, breathing person.
Unfortunately, the real, live insurance representative I had fought so hard to speak to referred me to the Sprint retail store and service center. Apparently, they will not replace a phone with no physical damage unless you are referred to them by a service specialist. An attempt to call the retail store to make an appointment with said service specialist proved useless, because their phone system simply tells you to go online and hangs up on you once you indicate you want to speak to a real person. An attempt to speak to a service specialist online was similarly useless, since the “specialist” is actually a poorly programmed chat bot—yes, it actually is a simple program designed to fool you into thinking you are talking to a person while it guides you through a simple flow chart—that can’t so much as keep track of the mobile number your message is about.
Defeated, I marched through the cold and rain to the Sprint Service Center, conveniently located on the corner of Boylston and Berkley, where, after waiting for 5 minutes while the employees ignored me, I was addressed by a real person, who I thought wanted to help. I explained to them my problem, ignored the eye-rolling, and awaited their response. Their response was “Well, we are about to close so can’t you just come back tomorrow?” I politely explained that it would be really hard for me to come back tomorrow and that I didn’t need a long support session, I just needed them to approve my insurance claim online, which takes no more than 30-90 seconds. Once again, the employee reminded me that they were closing soon and that I should come back the following day. At this point, it became apparent that they had no intention in working towards advancement. Not only were they ambivalent towards the whole situation, they were deliberately throwing sand in the gears. Recognizing the situation, I did what any other rational, caring person would have done. I screamed at the man, called him a retrograde mouth breather; I explained that this was just not the way we achieve progress; I loudly stated that I wasn’t asking him to have all the answers, I was just asking him to do his job and operate under the hours posted on the door of the store; I vociferously made it known that we can make things happen, if we work together, and that we didn’t get to this point in society and technology by simply shrugging at any hint of work; I made sure to properly enunciate as I expressed my frustration about being turned down after trying to reach them on the phone earlier that day proved impossible; And then my inner brat channeled the great Naomi Campbell and I threw my handset at him with as much force as I could possibly muster, narrowly missing him—and the related assault charge—and smashing my phone in the process. After that, I walked out of the store, lit a cigarette and contemplated what to do. I considered phoning a friend, but since that was obviously not happening, I did the next best thing: I got good and drunk.
I am not an angry person, nor do I want to be one. I don’t want to resort to violence, I really, really don’t. People! Let’s get our shit together! This is not progress! Have you ever seen youtube videos of people throwing rocks at tanks? That’s what happens when you frustrate the hell out of someone, they do stupid shit. Really, please don’t make me throw a brick and a Molotov cocktail through your window, I really don’t want to have to do that. If we could just all agree to work together we could really make things happen. Nobody is asking you to get things right, I just want you to try to do the right thing, it’s OK if you get it wrong. Hell, if we could just stop fucking up shit on purpose for no good reason, that would be be good enough.
