collisionbend.com

So, about 3 months ago my bride and I cut the cord: we dropped our AT&T land line and DSL hookup and went with RoadRunner and our cell phones.

That move will save us $600 for the first year alone. Not bad.

It’s not like we really need the land line, anyway: we usually call each other on the cell phones anyway, as we’re never calling from home.

So far, so good.

When we disconnected from AT&T, we had an overpayment of about $11; AT&T said they’d send a check.

They sent us a bill instead.

See, somehow, after four years of local service (no long distance — it was free from our cell phone provider), it turns out that they weren’t satisfied and added long distance to our phone bill — something we never requested or needed.

So I called them just now, as the letter seemed to indicate that they were going to send me to collection for six lousy bucks.

Why not pay it? Why should I? I never asked for the service — in fact, I explicitly declined it when offered. This is a issue of principle.

So after the third agent (all of whom spoke in a thick, incomprehensible Indian accent), they tell me that they have to call up the information from the archives (April 2007 is already archived), and this operation takes about 4 hours.

That’s one slow computer.

So before this guy can give me a confirmation number, he has to ask me a series of questions (my actual answers are in parenthesis, the questions are italicized):
Have we resolved your issue to your satisfaction?
(Uh, no… you haven’t even started)
If not, how can we resolve this issue to your satisfaction?
(Uh… erase the bill, admit that I was slammed and refund my money!)
How would you rate our service?
(Something I’d like to call Mark Dann about)
I see that you don’t have AT&T long distance service — would you like to sign up for it?
(Absolutely not.)
I see that you no longer have home phone service — would you like to sign up for it?
(No, because I just shut it off to save money. I explained that to you in the start of the phone call…)
Why not?
(We use our cell phones, thank you.)
I see… so is your cellular phone service from AT&T?
(No.)
Why not?
(Because AT&T cannot provide the services we need or want at the price we want it at)
Would you like to change it over to AT&T?
(No)
Why not?
(I just told you: AT&T cannot provide the services we need or want at the price we want it at — get it? Beyond that, we have a contract with our provider that has an early termination fee)
With several new advancements in technology, we can now provide you with better cellular phone service — would you like to sign up for it now?
(No!)
OK, sir, now I can see that you’re (unintelligible)… here is your confirmation number…

This is the new AT&T, folks: just like AOL, they just can’t say goodbye.

I need some Advil…

Day 33 without cigarettes. So far, so good.

I have to say that the patch has worked quite well, and I have had little desire to smoke, save for the occasional desire to suck down something hot and gaseous… but no nicotine fits. After 33 days, also, I’ve only gained about 6 pounds, which is a major moral victory: and I have a serious way to remove the weight now that the cravings are gone.

On Sunday, and again today, I had an experience that troubles me. Sunday was an accident, so I’ll write it off, but today was not an accident, and I couldn’t avoid it.

Ever talk with someone who constantly moved into your comfortable space — a “close talker,” as Jerry Seinfeld would put it? You know, someone who moves so uncomfortably close to you during a conversation that you move back in response?

I had that situation today. Except — this guy had to have smoked at least a carton of cigarettes before he spoke with me, and he smelled like it.

Halitosis city.

Body odor — from cigarettes and smoke.

Stink.

Serious stink.

I can’t believe that I smelled like that when I smoked. But, after smelling some of my clothes that sat in the laundry pile (intentionally) for a month, I now know it to be true. And that smell makes me want to do a “Mike Rowe shark fishing,” if you catch my drift…

Speaking of Mike Rowe… my bride and I love that show. In fact, if you get the Sunday News-Herald, you may have read her column on the Comment page this past Sunday about the show.

What started as a guy thing between my brother, his two sons, and myself, became a family event simply because my bride was grossed out enough to become curious — and entertained humorously enough to laugh — and not so much so of both to be turned off.

If you haven’t seen the show, you should try to watch it. It’s funny. It’s serious. It’s fact-filled. It’s informative. It’s challenging. And it will open your mind to jobs you might have thought never existed, or that no one in their right mind would do.

As Mike says in the show’s opening, it’s about people who do the jobs that make regular life possible for the rest of us. On the show, Rowe works as the lowest guy doing the dirtiest job a company has — and films every bit of it.

He’s been a roadkill recovery specialist, a septic tank cleaner, an avain vomitologist(!), a bat cave inspector, a racehorse inseminator, cow palpationist, and much, much more. Each job somehow seems more ghastly than the last, too — and the show has now filmed well over 100 dirty jobs.

And he does it all with grace, humor, and ease. The guy is incredible.

After a slew of jobs, one as an opera singer, and another as a QVS television sales rep (who got fired for insulting a customer on the air — on live TV), Mike Rowe is a guy who finally, in his mid-40s, found his stride — and wonderfully so.

I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life — and not for one minute at another’s expense, which is impressive: he never makes light of another who works the job that he does on the show — he’ll make jokes about the job, but never about the people that do it.

It proves that, even though one gets a fancy education, piles up massive college loan debts, mortgages that impossible house, and finances all of that worthless sh*t that does nothing but add stress to daily life (and threaten to kill), even a blind squirrel can find a nut.

Which gives hope to the rest of us. Way to go, Mike!

By the way, my favorite line of his is, “I just like to know what I’m shoveling.”

If you watch the show (Dirty Jobs), what’s yours?