I finally get around to joining the 21st century and order a Samsung Galaxy S5. After I got home from work, I saw where FedEx left a door tag. Unlike USPS, they don’t leave your package at your doorstep. So, I had to go to their local office to pick up the package.
The service girl scans the door tag, looks through her computer, and says I’ll have to call the 1-800 number on the door tag and ask for the tracking number.
This is strange. Why can’t she get the tracking number from her computer? But, I don’t say anything. I pull out my flip phone and call the 1-800 number. I get the scourge of humanity, the friendly robot who asks for info but NEVER gets it right. Friendly robot asks for the door tag number. I say it. Friendly robot repeats it. Friendly robot then says “I’m sorry, I can’t find that number. Tell you what, let’s try again, OK?”
This happens 3 more times. I finally say “Operator.” I get India. The rep says something like “Hookah wallah bimbim sallah bim, duwali couscous nahasapeemapetilon?” “Uh, I got a door tag and I’m here at the FedEx office and they told me to call this number to get the tracking number,” I reply. “Apu wallah wallah bing bang many arms elephant?” says the rep. “Uh, you want the door tag number, right?”
Much like the friendly robot, I repeat the door tag number three times to no payoff. The rep is explaining something using more bim bim sallah bim language, and I finally say, “Look, can you transfer me to an American call center?” I think that made him angry. I finally turn to the girl at the counter and say, “Look, can you talk to him? I can’t speak his language.”
She’s busy with another customer, so that takes 5-10 minutes. She then tells me she doesn’t have permission to talk on the 1-800 line. I say, “Why not? If you have to get the tracking number, why can’t you get it from the headquarters?” She kept repeating she didn’t have permission, and was apparently trained to say no more than that.
After getting nowhere with her, I walk out as she says “Have a nice day, thank you for using FedEx,” and other things she was trained to say like the good Pavlovian dog she was. I’m thinking of contacting Verizon and telling them not to use FedEx, but that’s probably impossible because the delivery guy can just say the package got damaged, can’t be returned, and he’s got himself a brand new phone. I hope they all get cancer and die.