After I sobered up from the fictitious drinking binge with Douglas Adams this morning I sallied forth (well, closer to third I think) to slay the Dragon of corporate mass communications. I took my vorple phone in hand and laid into the thorny hedges of the AT&T ‘s automated phone answering system.
“For French press du”
“If you would like to check on your bill press three”
“If you would like to speak to a real person please deposit in my personal Swiss bank account…”
In the end I finally did speak to a real person who, oddly enough, seemed to have an accent at least consistent with this continent. After explaining the interpretive dance I had been forced to engage in, through my usual use of auditory charades, I finally had an answer. Seems the charming young lady who had tried to sell me a phone, only to have it denied because I wanted to use CASH (how 19th century!), had done something to the anger the gods of jiggery-pokery and had sold me a new contract without selling me a phone, thus rendering me subject to the whims of the whims of Kafka and Loki. She then informed me that this was powerful spell indeed and required words of power that I needs speak at the source of the original enchantment. Well, actually, what she told me was that I had to go back to the original store and tell the manager that he had to engage in an operation that he was most LIKELY unfamiliar. I liked my first interpretation better, fits better into a world where Vampires are romantic leads rather then targets for timber.
Mounting my trusted steed, Subaru, I found my way through the open hedgerows of Petaluma (I am taking this “Dragon slaying” metaphor seriously) to the AT&T store. Upon entry I was eyed suspiciously by a couple of swarthy (yet doughy) minions who wanted to take my true name from me (OK, they wanted to put my name down on a waiting list). I was having none of this and declared loudly that I needed to speak to the manager…a declaration that silenced everyone in the place (not kidding here).
After a few minutes the enchanter, er, manager came out. In the flickering reflected light of his teeth and shirt I spoke the word to him I had been told, he looked confused (as I had been told by the sprite on the phone) but told me that he would look into it. I passed to him a ltter of marque to act in my stead, er, I gave him my business card and told him that my will be done as I had another appointment with my therapist accross Sherwoon forrest and could he please call me when he had news.
All of my tortured metaphors were well served as I got a call in about 45 minutes saying that everything had been worked out and I could now buy a new iPhone and please could I remove the curse on the manager as the scales were chafing in his slacks.
In a few minutes I was happily on the Apple store ordering my new iPhone. In the fading light of the afternoon I saw faeries dancing in a ring of toadstools in the backyark whilst sprites from the camphor tree performed aerobatics that would shame the Blue angels. Good had triumphed in the end over the evil minions of the corporate world. I Rveled in my victory as I hit return on my pre-order.
…then I noticed that Apple had just charged me $64 in taxes on a $299 sale. My iPhone began to glow blue in the shadows.
