"I grow weary of this world" *

Remember my replacement piece of garbage from Sprint? Yes, they ordered me a replacement Centro and it lasted, oh, two and half weeks before it developed cloudy eye and turned belly up. No matter how many times I tapped the glass** it wasn't going to flutter its little tail for me.

So, I trucked back to the Sprint store...

There I wait in the 8' by 8' space for an employee to become available. The two counter people are busy "helping people" and by "helping people" I mean telling the customer "there's really nothing I can do" over and over again. In fact, they deny connection with the equipment or any culpability so often I wonder if they've been studying old Family Circus strips.

I have plenty of time to peruse all the Sprint propaganda on the walls and also to read the poster that says I'll be receiving a follow-up survey call to make sure I am delighted with my service. I notice that the poster doesn't include a phone number for me to call them... not that I have a working phone to do so anyway... tra la...

One customer ahead of me, a twenty-something woman, starts coughing up a lung while she waits, in vain, for a different answer from the employee.

But she's not just coughing. She's doing the "walk and cough." She walks and coughs into her elbow from the counter spot where she stands on the right side of the 8' by 8' space to the display of phones on the left side of the 8' by 8' space. Why, yes, the very same 8' by 8' space I'm cringing in. Fit over, she walks back and argues with the woman behind the counter. Then, she starts to cough again, but this time she walks and coughs back and to the right, because, let's face it, this woman is nothing if not thorough in her contamination efforts.

Me, voice rising with each word: Could you stop moving, please?

Her: *cough*step* What? *cough*step*cough*hack*snort*step*cough*

Me: JUST STOP MOVING. You're coughing all over the place.

Her: I'm covering my mouth. *she steps toward me indicating that she has been coughing into her elbow, per CDC protocol*

Me: It doesn't matter. You're still spreading it everywhere.

Her: *blink*step*cough* Uh...

Me: JUST STOP. STAND STILL. I DON'T CARE WHERE YOU STAND JUST STAND STILL!

Amazingly, she does. If only not to get clubbed to death by the crazy woman wielding a dead Centro.

I eventually get called to the counter. They make me wait while they take the phone to the back of the store for evaluation. Five minutes later, the tech comes out, with the dead Centro in his hand.

Tech: I don't know what's wrong with your phone.

Me: That's two of us, then.

Tech: It's not working at all.

Me:

Tech: I'll order you another one. It should be in in a few days. We'll call you on this number *indicates dead cell phone* when it's in.

Me: I can't answer that phone.

Tech: Yeah, I know. You'll have to check your messages remotely.

Me: Can't I just give you an alternate number to call me on? My home number or my work number?

Tech: I could write down another number but the note won't be with the phone when it comes in, see. It's easier if you just check your messages remotely.

Me:

Tech:

Me: Thanks.



* 10 super magic bloggy points to the person who can provide another quote from the same source.

** They do TOO like that.