Man Versus Comcast, Round One

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The day after my mother’s funeral I called Comcast to cancel her cable TV account. I waited through a phone menu that included every conceivable thing related to a cable account except how to cancel one. A Customer Service Agent eventually answered. The guy informed me that since I was not named on the account, I couldn’t close it over the phone. But I could come into the office and do so. I’d just need to bring along a copy of the death certificate.

I paused, totally stunned. Then I said “Is it already April 1st, because you have got to be kidding.”

The guy started talking about “standard company procedures” and “protecting customers” when I cut in, thanked him, and hung up. I waited an hour and called back, figuring I’d get a different agent. I did. That guy said there was a form that the person holding Power Of Attorney could fill out. They’d need to fax the form in and then confirm the account closure with a follow-up call.

That wasn’t happening either.

I waited another hour and called back. This time I started talking in a creaky voice. The kind a woman in her late 70’s might possess:

“Hello,” I said, my voice thin and shaky, “I need to close my account.” I offered up my (mom’s) name. Struggling to keep my tone the same throughout, I provided an address and the account number.

Things were moving along nicely until the guy asked for “my” social security number. I didn’t have it, but the number on Mom’s Medicare card looked pretty close. So I squeaked that out.

“Let’s see,” the agent said, “the last four digits there don’t match our records.”

“Oh my, ” I moaned, “sometimes I just forget things, it’s so hard.”

The gloves were off. I wasn’t going into that office. If I had to unleash guilt and pity against the innocent, so be it.

“Okay, that’s okay,” the guy said, “no problem. We have enough to proceed.”

I pumped a fist in the air.

“Just one question,” the guy continued, “why are you cancelling your service?”

“Moving to California,” I squeaked.

“Well, you know, we do have service in California.”

Argh. I’d browsed through the many, many complaints about Comcast online. The most promising solution I found was to claim you’re moving out of their service area. It’s like yanking your leg away from a shin-humping puppy.

After I declined, the guy said “Well, you have yourself a great trip out to California.”

What a nice way to end our chat. I cracked a smile, contemplated how a 76 year old woman would respond, and said “Oh thank you hon, that’s so sweet.”

 

Next Up: The Cable Empire Strikes Back

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6 thoughts on “Man Versus Comcast, Round One”

  1. Haaaa this is awesome!! It is evidence that their rules are as random as some of the airline rules. Glad that he was nice and helpful thought. I agree with Forest.. you’re a genius!

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