As my daughters are quickly learning and often quoting to me these days, “adulting” is hard.  There are so many interactions to navigate, so many decisions to be made, and so many moving parts of to an adult life.  There’s transportation, work, paying bills, obtaining housing, shopping for groceries, relationships, preparing meals, washing clothes – the list goes on and on.

While my daughters think that an old hand like myself makes these daily, weekly, and monthly tasks look easy, there are still times when even I encounter the fickle fate of bureaucracy, delays, and just bad luck.

Case in point, I recently tried to “cancel” internet service for a college apartment.  Now, for legal reasons, I won’t mention this company by name, but I will say that it rhymes with “Tomfast”.  I think you’ll figure it out.  I’m not sure when the last time any of you tried to “cancel” any type of electronic-related service these days, but let me tell you something – you’re in for a treat.

Being naïve and optimistic, I first tried going to the website to cancel my service.  It took a while to dig through the various screens to get to one where I could “adjust my account”, but when it came time to actually try to cancel?  Well what do you know, there’s a website error.  I’ll need to call their support line.

The first support line I was directed to sent me down the rabbit hole of fifty different automated menu choices.  The “Press X for Y” syndrome, as I like to call it.  After entering account numbers, confirming my language preference, and having to saying “yes” or “no” numerous times to an impartial robotic voice response system who was constantly asking me to repeat myself (is my accent that bad?), guess what?  They suggest I cancel via the “website live support” or – the unfeeling system voice actually said this – they couldn’t even begin to estimate what my hold time would be to talk to a customer service rep.

Strike two.

For my third attempt, I found another customer service number (different from the first) on the website, dialed the number, and buckled up for what I was sure was going to be an eternity of terrible hold music.

Rather quickly, I was greeted by a human voice.  Heavily accented and filled with background voices from other calls, the service rep (who said her name was “Rose” – yeah, right), asked how she could help.  After explaining what I was looking for (to cancel my internet), Rose then spent the next ten minutes trying to offer me alternatives and retain me as a customer.  Why was I canceling?  Would I like to transfer my account to another address?  With each “no”, Rose became more and more desperate, asking weirder and weirder questions.  Would I consider keeping the service for the next apartment tenant?  Uhhh, no – why would I do that? 

I had my own modem (so there was nothing to return to the company), but that didn’t stop her from asking “can you tell me what color the modem is?”  Rose, are you having a stroke right now?  What possible bearing could this have on my request?  It’s black – just like 98% of all modems – does that narrow it down for you?  What if I said “midnight blue with a gold ‘swoosh’ down the side?”  Does this change the fact that I own it and don’t have to return it to you?

Through all of these comical exchanges, Rose remained unfailingly polite (to the point of annoyance) and uncomfortably giggled at my sarcastic responses while my patience continued to wear thin.  I finally, but forcefully explained “look, I’m just trying to cancel service that I’m no longer using – can you help me or not?” 

“Oh certainly, sir,” came the reply.  “Let me check with our cancellation department”. 

Back on hold for ten minutes.

Rose then resumed our conversation.

“And when would you like this turned off?”

How does “right now” strike you, Rose?

So after a twenty minute phone call, my cancellation request was entered.  Hey-Zeus Christmas, that was a struggle. Signing up took me about two minutes. Canceling took three attempts and about ninety minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.

Oh, and Rose then had the stones to request that I fill out a survey on my customer experience.  How does “get bent” sound to you?

My daughters are right, sometimes “adulting” is hard.