For the last few weeks our satellite dish has been acting up. (For those of you who don’t know rural life, we get TV via satellite, rather than by cable. Just like our internet comes via a wireless broadcast beamed to us from the top of the local grain elevator – YES, I’m serious!)
Program information has been “unavailable” in the guide, so last week – Thursday or Friday I finally got around to calling Shaw Direct, our service provider. I usually dread calls like this, because you often get put on hold for an hour with bad music and interruptions every 2 minutes, telling you, “We value our customers! Please stay on the line for the next available caller, etc, etc, etc” which I hate with a passion.
I was pleasantly surprised when the recording from Shaw offered to call me back when a customer service representative was available to take my call – and gave me a time line of 15 minutes! Points to Shaw for the consideration! I wish other companies would do the same instead of keeping me hostage on hold for an hour while their one service person handles all the queued calls from half a continent.
But I rant… the call came as promised 15 minutes later and the problem was easily fixed. “Just unplug the receiver; plug it back in and the guide will re-load properly in about 30 minutes.” Customer-service-guy tells me.
OK – I feel some kinda foolish. So when Customer- service-guy tells me that I’m going to keep having the problem since our receiver is ancient (which I knew) and asks if I’d be interested in upgrading, I was half-way hooked. And when he added that, considering the age of my receiver, the upgrade would cost $50.00 instead of a $100.00 and that I wouldn’t have to bother shipping the old one back – SOLD!
“We’ll ship it out Monday, by courier,” Customer- service-guy assures me.
“Unh… throughout the day it’s going to be hard to catch me at home.” I tell him.
“Can one of your neighbours sign for it,” Customer- service-guy asks.
“Well… you know many people have jobs to go to and… Hey! Could the courier drop it off at the Post-Office? I ask. (In the city, I’ve heard, mail comes by postman to your door – Have I mentioned that this is a small town?)
“No - can’t do that,” Customer- service-guy explains slowly, like I’m an imbecile. “Canada Post and the courier company are competitors – they don’t like each other enough to co-operate like that.”
(It seemed pointless to explain that the lady that runs the post-office IS a friend and neighbour who’d almost certainly sign for the package no matter who was carrying it…)
“How about they drop it off at THE STORE?” I exclaim, the idea suddenly occurs to me. “Hohner’s General Store! They can drop it off there.”
“Ok, that should work,” Customer- service-guy says dubiously. “What’s the address?”
“Unh… Main street.” I hesitatingly respond. (Eyebrow is small enough that we don’t pay much attention to street numbers.) “Main Street IS only two blocks long and there’s a big sign in front – he’ll see it,” I try lamely to explain.
Customer- service-guy chuckles uncomfortably, then explains even more slowly, “I understand, but it’s kinda hard to write that on a form….”
“OK, ahh… call it #50 Main Street,” I tell Customer- service-guy (Understanding the problem and figuring that this will get the driver close enough to see the sign.)
“OK, so we’ll send it out Monday then,” I’m told.
“Oh - could you make it Tuesday? THE STORE is closed Monday.”
I can almost hear customer service guy crying on the other end of the phone line by now – but yes it will be shipped out Tuesday, Customer-service-guy promises.
I checked at THE STORE on my way home after work Tuesday – no delivery…. A simple delivery. How could that have gotten messed up?