Almost three years ago we made the jump to eliminating our land lines. My son found an inexpensive cell phone company that gives access to the internet so I can get my online calendar. (My daughter does not care about inexpensive. She cares about quality. She has the most expensive cell phone plan available.)
My son recommended a used cell phone seller. His shop was above a garage that housed a junk hauling company. After we climbed the cluttered stairs, each stair housing a bin of computer parts, we arrived at a loft area composed of two couches, two workbenches, shelves, and the entire floor area covered by parts and bins.
Sam, a friendly young man with a limp, rummaged through bins and bags overflowing with old cell phones. My son picked two cell phones out. Then began the search for chargers that would fit. One cell phone wasn't that difficult to find a charger for, but the other required the dumping out of a bucket onto the floor and sorting through all of the rubber banded chargers. We gave up after 20 minutes and decided to buy a charger online. We paid and left.
Then began the process of signing up for the cell phone service. Signing up for a cell phone service, as perhaps many of you know, involves signing up for a monthly service, then porting one's landline phone numbers over to the cell phone service and activating the cell phones. The term "port" reminds me of the canoeing and kayaking term "portage" in which the kayaker has to carry their boat around a rocky portion of the river, say a waterfall or rapids. This is not unlike my experience porting my phone numbers. First I had to find out what each term meant that the online form was asking for. I had to find out what my landline phone number's account number was. Then I had to decide that my landline did not have a pin number and to leave that section blank. Then I had to go online to find out where my ESN number is on my cell phone. There are various places where the ESN can be found on various makes and models of cell phones. Ours were both on a white tag under the batteries. Unfortunately none of the four numbers were labeled ESN. Two hours and 37 websites later I decided the MEID number was the ESN number for my cell phone, and the DEC number was the ESN number for my wife's cell phone. I typed these numbers in repeatedly and failed the online port. I switched to my wife's PC to see if that was the problem. Finally on try number six my cell phone registered successfully. For my wife's cell phone I had to call customer support.
The reviews for our new cell phone company warned me that a thirty minute wait is not unusual, and not to be surprised if the customer support staff were in a testy mood from all of the irate customers who had to wait thirty minutes. So I hunkered down at my computer terminal with the crossword and the sudoku. The first time I was connected after only fifteen minutes of Barry Manilow, I couldn't hear anything, except the click when I was disconnected. I called back. The second time, after 17 minutes of Karen Carpenter, I had to reason with Michelle that my landline did not have a pin. Fortunately she was American, or sounded enough like it that she convinced me, and I was relieved, having had some difficulty understanding foreign phone techs, and it really irritates me when they are obsequious, even though they teach the foreign techs to be that way on the phone. They are unhelpful and then they ask if they can help me with anything else. "Well, why would you want to help me with anything else if you couldn't help me with the first thing?" That's when I qualify as an irate customer. Anyway Michelle told me that I was going to have to wait a really long time for a port from a landline--a really long time. I said that was okay. She sighed and said it was going to take a long time--a really long time. Clearly this was a major obstacle in her mind. "How long?" I asked. "About a month," she replied in a tone that implied anyone would have to be nuts to wait that long. "That's okay with me," I said. I wasn't disconnecting my landline until the cell phone was working. She knew which number to type in: the DEC number, and presto, she was done.
The next day I looked at my cell phone account online. My wife's cell phone was hooked up, our two cell phone monthly fees were all set up, but my cell phone hookup had failed. I called customer service and hunkered down for another go at my crossword. This time Ron answered the Customer Service line after 22 minutes of Bette Midler. When I explained my problem to him he checked my account. "Should I type it in again?" "No," he said, "that just makes it take way longer." "Oh," I said. "Well, it looks like it failed. Shouldn't I try again?" "No, that makes it take way longer." He emphasized the word "way", making "way" sound way longer. "It looks like your phone was rejected." "Oh, should I just apply again?" "No, that just makes it take way longer." Now I was confused. If it was rejected, how was I going to get signed up if I didn't try again? "Your cell phone is on the Fraud List." Oh! "So it won't work." "Why is it on the Fraud List?" "It's registered as stolen or lost or something." "Oh! So I have to find another cell phone?" "Yes."
The Fraud List? That was a little scary. Was there a Fraud Squad that roamed the US of A and stopped at houses that were known to have tried to register a fraudulent cell phone? I had typed my address into the website when I tried to register the phone. They could be here in a matter of minutes, lights flashing, with those zip tie handcuffs. And what happens if you refuse to stand up and look at the camera when they want to take your mug shot? They can't punch you, can they? Do they spray you with mace? Zap you with a tazer?
And what constitutes a fraudulent cell phone? Was my cell phone stolen? The cell phone still had the complete phone contact list from the previous owner. I could phone all of them and finally figure out whose phone it was. Maybe they had been looking for it. "Hi, Jessica Adams? This is Mark Edwards. You don't know me, but I bought a used cell phone and your phone number was in it. I need to know the previous owner of the cell phone, because the cell phone is on the Fraud List, which means it is stolen or lost or something." Click. Can you believe how rude that Jessica Adams was?
My son said to take it back to Sam and ask for a refund. His partner said it probably was the fact that the phone had a contract that someone had not finished paying for, so they couldn't change the cell phone's number until they paid the bill.
So I bid online for a cell phone. I bid on six cell phones, one of which offered me a Second Chance. I wasn't the top bidder, but the top bidder renegged, or the sellers had a second cell phone to sell, which made me a little suspicious. Auctions to begin with make me suspicious. If I don't bid high enough to win the item, I think: "I'm just cheap. If I were willing to pay what something is really worth I would win it." But if I win the item, I think: "Crap! I overpaid. No-one else in the entire internet was willing to pay what I paid for that item." But I really get paranoid around Second Chance Offers: "What? The original bidder didn't like it? Why should I like it if he didn't like it? The original bidder discerned something suspicious and backed off just in time. What did he discern? Was he an online afficianado that can tell things? What can he tell?"
So after twelve hours devoted to the process I still was not even halfway through all of the pieces required to convert my business and personal phones over to cell. My wife's phone only took 24 hours to become live. So much for Michelle's fears. But what use is a labor-saving device like a cell phone if I have to spend all of my spare time chasing down glitches? In fact that's my beef with just about everything that is amazing and wonderful that has come along in the last two decades. Yes, I like email, but one of my email addresses has now been discontinued, and they won't give it back to me. And the tech was foreign and wanted to know if she could help me with anything else.
My son recommended a used cell phone seller. His shop was above a garage that housed a junk hauling company. After we climbed the cluttered stairs, each stair housing a bin of computer parts, we arrived at a loft area composed of two couches, two workbenches, shelves, and the entire floor area covered by parts and bins.
Sam, a friendly young man with a limp, rummaged through bins and bags overflowing with old cell phones. My son picked two cell phones out. Then began the search for chargers that would fit. One cell phone wasn't that difficult to find a charger for, but the other required the dumping out of a bucket onto the floor and sorting through all of the rubber banded chargers. We gave up after 20 minutes and decided to buy a charger online. We paid and left.
Then began the process of signing up for the cell phone service. Signing up for a cell phone service, as perhaps many of you know, involves signing up for a monthly service, then porting one's landline phone numbers over to the cell phone service and activating the cell phones. The term "port" reminds me of the canoeing and kayaking term "portage" in which the kayaker has to carry their boat around a rocky portion of the river, say a waterfall or rapids. This is not unlike my experience porting my phone numbers. First I had to find out what each term meant that the online form was asking for. I had to find out what my landline phone number's account number was. Then I had to decide that my landline did not have a pin number and to leave that section blank. Then I had to go online to find out where my ESN number is on my cell phone. There are various places where the ESN can be found on various makes and models of cell phones. Ours were both on a white tag under the batteries. Unfortunately none of the four numbers were labeled ESN. Two hours and 37 websites later I decided the MEID number was the ESN number for my cell phone, and the DEC number was the ESN number for my wife's cell phone. I typed these numbers in repeatedly and failed the online port. I switched to my wife's PC to see if that was the problem. Finally on try number six my cell phone registered successfully. For my wife's cell phone I had to call customer support.
The reviews for our new cell phone company warned me that a thirty minute wait is not unusual, and not to be surprised if the customer support staff were in a testy mood from all of the irate customers who had to wait thirty minutes. So I hunkered down at my computer terminal with the crossword and the sudoku. The first time I was connected after only fifteen minutes of Barry Manilow, I couldn't hear anything, except the click when I was disconnected. I called back. The second time, after 17 minutes of Karen Carpenter, I had to reason with Michelle that my landline did not have a pin. Fortunately she was American, or sounded enough like it that she convinced me, and I was relieved, having had some difficulty understanding foreign phone techs, and it really irritates me when they are obsequious, even though they teach the foreign techs to be that way on the phone. They are unhelpful and then they ask if they can help me with anything else. "Well, why would you want to help me with anything else if you couldn't help me with the first thing?" That's when I qualify as an irate customer. Anyway Michelle told me that I was going to have to wait a really long time for a port from a landline--a really long time. I said that was okay. She sighed and said it was going to take a long time--a really long time. Clearly this was a major obstacle in her mind. "How long?" I asked. "About a month," she replied in a tone that implied anyone would have to be nuts to wait that long. "That's okay with me," I said. I wasn't disconnecting my landline until the cell phone was working. She knew which number to type in: the DEC number, and presto, she was done.
The next day I looked at my cell phone account online. My wife's cell phone was hooked up, our two cell phone monthly fees were all set up, but my cell phone hookup had failed. I called customer service and hunkered down for another go at my crossword. This time Ron answered the Customer Service line after 22 minutes of Bette Midler. When I explained my problem to him he checked my account. "Should I type it in again?" "No," he said, "that just makes it take way longer." "Oh," I said. "Well, it looks like it failed. Shouldn't I try again?" "No, that makes it take way longer." He emphasized the word "way", making "way" sound way longer. "It looks like your phone was rejected." "Oh, should I just apply again?" "No, that just makes it take way longer." Now I was confused. If it was rejected, how was I going to get signed up if I didn't try again? "Your cell phone is on the Fraud List." Oh! "So it won't work." "Why is it on the Fraud List?" "It's registered as stolen or lost or something." "Oh! So I have to find another cell phone?" "Yes."
The Fraud List? That was a little scary. Was there a Fraud Squad that roamed the US of A and stopped at houses that were known to have tried to register a fraudulent cell phone? I had typed my address into the website when I tried to register the phone. They could be here in a matter of minutes, lights flashing, with those zip tie handcuffs. And what happens if you refuse to stand up and look at the camera when they want to take your mug shot? They can't punch you, can they? Do they spray you with mace? Zap you with a tazer?
And what constitutes a fraudulent cell phone? Was my cell phone stolen? The cell phone still had the complete phone contact list from the previous owner. I could phone all of them and finally figure out whose phone it was. Maybe they had been looking for it. "Hi, Jessica Adams? This is Mark Edwards. You don't know me, but I bought a used cell phone and your phone number was in it. I need to know the previous owner of the cell phone, because the cell phone is on the Fraud List, which means it is stolen or lost or something." Click. Can you believe how rude that Jessica Adams was?
My son said to take it back to Sam and ask for a refund. His partner said it probably was the fact that the phone had a contract that someone had not finished paying for, so they couldn't change the cell phone's number until they paid the bill.
So I bid online for a cell phone. I bid on six cell phones, one of which offered me a Second Chance. I wasn't the top bidder, but the top bidder renegged, or the sellers had a second cell phone to sell, which made me a little suspicious. Auctions to begin with make me suspicious. If I don't bid high enough to win the item, I think: "I'm just cheap. If I were willing to pay what something is really worth I would win it." But if I win the item, I think: "Crap! I overpaid. No-one else in the entire internet was willing to pay what I paid for that item." But I really get paranoid around Second Chance Offers: "What? The original bidder didn't like it? Why should I like it if he didn't like it? The original bidder discerned something suspicious and backed off just in time. What did he discern? Was he an online afficianado that can tell things? What can he tell?"
So after twelve hours devoted to the process I still was not even halfway through all of the pieces required to convert my business and personal phones over to cell. My wife's phone only took 24 hours to become live. So much for Michelle's fears. But what use is a labor-saving device like a cell phone if I have to spend all of my spare time chasing down glitches? In fact that's my beef with just about everything that is amazing and wonderful that has come along in the last two decades. Yes, I like email, but one of my email addresses has now been discontinued, and they won't give it back to me. And the tech was foreign and wanted to know if she could help me with anything else.