1-800-@#$!%$!

I get it, dude. Seriously. While I have not had your specific crappy job, I have had one pretty much like it--just ask my friend here--and I know there's only so much you can do. You've got to answer the calls and you've got to resolve the calls and you've got to reserve at least a small fraction of your brain for pretending that you are not trapped in that particular headset-and-keyboard purgatory. I know how it is.

But, dude. I cannot express to you how helpful it would be if you would focus just enough to listen to what I am saying and read the words that I know are glowing on your screen, me having recited, again, my name and my address and my e-mail address and my phone number and my incident number if not, again, my laptop's serial number, being that said laptop is packed up in a box to send it back to you people, if only you would SEND ME THE LABEL necessary for said shipping. How many times do I have to explain?

Four, apparently.

It's not as if I launched into a rant-- at least not at you. I saved that for the bastards at Charter, lack of Internets on top of lack of laptop being more than I could stand. But try to sell me more services in the midst of blaming me for your company's problem, and I make no promises.

But speaking of which, stupid me for believing the part where you said, "we'll ship it out," and then the part where you said, "it was shipped out," depsite the fact that you could not tell me how or when. Since--this is my favorite part--it never happened. Once because you thought I didn't know what I was talking about and once perhaps just for sport. Silly me for just checking the mail day after day. Patience is not, after all, a virtue.

But persistence is.