iLiars: A day spent trying to figure out AT&T.

In response to my last post a dear friend said that if she could be anyone in the world (besides her lovely self) she would be me. Because my life “is an adventure comedy”.

The things that happen to me aren’t any different from the things that happen to everyone around me, every day. I’m just unusually incompetent at handling most everyday tasks.

The world is a big, scary place to me, and I somehow feel like I’m missing some sort of ‘Idiot’s Guide to…” book that explained it to everyone else.
Purchasing stamps for the first time, for example, was a huge trial for me. I had a vague understanding that I needed to put one on a letter to send it, and assumed the only place I could purchase them was the post office. I drove to the local post office, demanded stamps while presenting money, and was asked with a surprised expression what type I wanted.
It had not occurred to me that stamps would come in various amounts. Startled, I stared at the money in my hand, and realized I needed to escape.
“GOOD LORD” I shouted “I LEFT MY OVEN ON FIRE!”
And I bolted.

I returned (to a different post office, so as to avoid being recognized) the next day, and purchased stamps in various increments from a machine in the lobby. Thus eliminating further human-to-human contact. If the machine judges me for this, I don’t really care. He’s just a machine, and he can’t even walk, so who the fuck does he think he is, anyway?

In general, I feel like a little kid masquerading as an adult. Too embarrassed to ask those around me what must be for them very obvious questions about how to do very obvious things, I stumble through tasks like a blind man with recent head trauma; waving my arms for balance and bumping into various pieces of furniture, while creating multiple fire-safety violations.

Also, I see salesmen as being a mutant form of vacuum like liars; trying to suck every last penny out of me while adding on as many features, and depriving me of as much information, as possible. I don't trust them as far as I can throw them, which probably isn't very far considering the last time I threw a baseball it actually went backwards.

So it was with a feeling of absolute dread that I set out to purchase an iPhone, or, at least, to figure out the method by which I go about purchasing an iPhone.

My old phone is from an age where you were happy with grainy unrecognizable photos, and waiting until you got home to browse the web. But it’s a ‘Cella proof’ phone. Meaning it has survived not only falling in the bath (3 times!), but being dropped from a variety of altitudes (including down an escalator). And it still works. (the best part was that it happened to be an up escalator, and I just waited off to the side until it traveled back up to me. It didn’t even drop the call).

But it’s time to move forward, into the future, I tell myself. Time to get an iPhone.

So I went to the AT&T website, which answered none of my questions, and made me feel like I was a recently de-thawed Neanderthal. Apparently I needed to buy a plan, or something, which looked expensive, and then I could get my phone (which, also, looked expensive). And even then, I couldn’t figure out which of the phones did what I wanted, or what plans cost what, or even whether I was on the right site.

It was all very confusing, so I called my brother.
He explained to me, with the patience of a saint (Saint Carter; provider of seemingly obvious information), what he paid for his bill, how much his phone cost him, and why I should go for one model I immediately-forgot-the-name-of instead of another model. He also provided the seemingly fantastic idea that I go in and talk to them directly, via an AT&T store.

Because it was closer, I made the bad decision to go to the one at Bell Square mall, instead of driving to Factoria. "How mobbed could it be?:, I asked myself, startling the people walking around me.
‘Very’ turned out to be the universes answer.

There was only one sales person available when I arrived, and he didn’t seem all that excited about talking to me the further the conversation went on.

“Hi!” He said, enthusiastically, when I walked in. “Mumblemumblemuble-day?”

I stopped, and tried to replay what he said in my memory (Joshua will tell you I’ll often ask him ‘what?’ after appearing to not hear him, but suddenly be able to recall what was just said, mere seconds later. This gives me the appearance of being both deaf, and a liar).
I got nothing, so I asked him to repeat himself.

People don’t like repeating themselves, I’ve noticed. This gentleman looked both surprised, and annoyed, that I would ask. “Uhhh,” he said “How are you today?”
“Oh… I’m good… But I need help”
He waited.
“I want a touch-screen phone…That can browse the web. And has an alarm function I can have only turn on during certain days…weekdays, specifically.”
He waited.
I floundered. I hate prolonged eye contact. “And… that’s it. It needs to do those three things. I simply cannot use it if I can’t do those things” I added, with an air of importance, because it seemed like the right thing to say to a salesman.

He immediately took me to the iPhone 3G, which was a scant $99.
He launched into a long talk about the various features, during which I daydreamed about cats.

When he appeared to have finished, I pretended I was considering what he had just said, and drawled in my ‘serious’ voice “Well… it does sound impressive…”
He beamed. I could see the word commission reflecting in his eyes.
“Ok.” I said, finally “What do I have to do to get it?”
He gave me a look I’m used to from retail salesmen. That look that says both ‘this is a trap’ and ‘is she kidding?’
I tried again “I need you to explain to me – like you would explain to a child – exactly what I need to purchase in order to get, and use, this device. Specifically, what it would cost me each month to do all the things you just said it would do”
He still looked confused.
“I’m not an idiot” I tried to assure him, though he looked more alarmed. “I just… I need it explained. I’m actually very intelligent. Really”.

He started eying the exit, and his enthusiasm in helping me had obviously deteriorated “I just don’t understand…” I waved my hand, searching for the word. “things” I ended, suddenly feeling rather depressed. I joined him in looking at the exit, and suddenly thought that escaping to get a hot chocolate would be a really swell idea.

I was about to employ the ‘oven on fire’ excuse again, when he finally seemed to understand what I wanted.
“Well,” he said, “First you’ll need a data package. Do you just want to check your e-mail and facebook every now and then?”
I nodded. “Yeah. About once a day.”
“Ok. Then that will probably be about 25 to 30 bucks. Then you need the minutes. Do you talk a lot on your phone?”
“Sweet zombie jesus, no.”
“Then that will only be about another 40. You’re looking at about 60 dollars, altogether, a month.”
“And that’s everything?”
“That’s everything”
“Everything I would need? 60 bucks a month?”
“Yeah. That’s everything.”
“EVERYTHING?” (As I've mentioned, I think of all salesmen as being like used car salesmen. They'll smile and say the right things, but really they're hoping to send me home in a used Pinto, and frankly I don't need another beat up car in my life)
“Thatiseverythingyouwillneedforthisphone”. His eyes added ‘now get out of my store’.
I raised an eyebrow.
"EVERYTHING" He shouted.

“Fantastic!” I squealed. People turned. I thanked him for his help, offered my hand in a friendly ‘Thanks for not calling the police’ way.
He just stared at it, so I pretended I was stretching.

It was on the way home that I realized he hadn’t mentioned txt messages.
On their now-slightly-more-compressible website, I discovered this would add another 40 dollars to my bill.

Fuck you, AT&T.

(Post Script: Now that I have had that depression-lifting hot chocolate, I feel slightly more capable of trying this again, next weekend. I have not given up on getting my new iPhone, AT&T you filthy liars, and since it’s not possible to do this using the machine in the post office, I’ll just have to suck it up and try again.
But next time I’m going to bring a stick, and I swear to god I will smack the first person who lies)