An Open Letter To Comcast
Fuck you for sending down wave after wave of fuck-knuckles who don't know where Mellon Arena is. It's the ONLY arena that's used by the ONLY hockey team in Pittsburgh, across the street from the ONLY apartment complex in the entire block that has "CHATHAM TOWERS" written in big bold letters with fireworks going off all around it.
Four times..... FOUR FUCKING TIMES over the course of TWO WEEKS, you had to send people who had never set foot in this complex. Three of those times, you didn't send these people with the proper equipment to measure how much power our coax cables were getting. Instead, your people either stood around gabbing on their shitty Nextel phones for two hours talking about how our apartment didn't even HAVE coax cables with power, or THEY HAD NEVER EVEN DONE A PERSONAL INSTALLATION BEFORE IN THEIR ENTIRE YEAR OF WORKING AT COMCAST.
It was only today that the guy that you had sent for my 10:00 AM appointment, who decided to show up at 5:30 PM today by the way, that I was finally able to get my cable TV and internet. You know how long it took to install?
One fucking half-hour.
I called seven times today, and spoke to six different supervisors. One of those times, I couldn't get put on with a supervisor because some stupid black bitch decided that she simply wouldn't do it and gave me the same run-around I had been hearing all morning. It wasn't until I told her that since she was refusing to put me on with her supervisor, and since I had her name and employee number, she was assuming the responsibilities of a supervisor and I was holding her equally responsible to the lack of customer service, and that if I was losing my job because of all those people fucking up, I would have more than enough time on my hands to devote myself to giving the higher-ups all of the names and employee numbers of the people I dealt with and ruining the reputation of those employees within the company, so it was only THEN that she decided to whistle a different tune out her asshole.
Is this what it needs to come down to? When you pay peanuts, you get monkeys, and I really don't like threatening to take away peanuts from a monkey. I also understand that you don't give a shit about me threatening to take away my business. I'm just one guy. Trouble is, shit rolls downhill. Not only do I work in a company that deals with Comcast customers on a daily basis, but I am perfectly capable of leaving a bad salty taste in EVERYBODY'S mouths after I'm done talking about you.
And once they taste it, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, they certainly won't think it was me fucking them.