Stupid Inept Verizon A-Holes

19 Nov

from June 12, 2009

“Hey,” you might be wondering, “did Mr. Blog  get his cell phone battery yet?”
First, thanks for you touching concern.
Secondly, and to answer your question, no. My cell phone battery is sitting in East New York, among a few thousand other undeliverable packages in a FedEx warehouse.
“But what,” you may ask, is your battery doing there?”
Good question. Answer- The people at Verizon are not capable of typing their own names.
Stupid fucking inept Verizon A-Holes.  

My cell phone was safely sitting its cradle, like a baby. In fact it was softly snoring as it dozed. I gently lifted it out of the cradle, careful not to drop the little pink baby blanket, and saw that the baby’s bottom had a full load. In other, less metaphoric, words, the back of the phone, which is the battery, and is normally as flat as a cat on the Belt Parkway, was as round as a beach ball, which is what that dead cat would look like if it was chucked over the seawall and decomposed on the bottom and later floated to the top. (See, I was less metaphoric, but more, um, simile-aphoric (?) and a whole lot more annoying.)  

I popped off the battery and it shot out of the phone and bonked me in the head. I assumed that something was wrong.  

I took the phone and oddly bouncy battery to the big Verizon store on 86th street. The place was packed but I was swarmed by a trio of three (try being swarmed of a trio of two. Can’t be done.) sales associates who seemed competent but just below the surface were actually steaming bags of ineptitude and stupidity.  

 One of them, a middle-aged guy in a suit that looked like it was originally tailored for his grandfather, elbowed the other two aside and asked what he could do for me. I explained the situation and, as his face registered almost the correct pattern of human emotion, showed him the battery. “Wow. Is that your battery?”  

Indeed it was.  

Now it turned out that the guy who asked how he could help me could not help me at all. His job was to put my name into a computer and point me to the other end of the store. “See that counter there?” It was ten feet away. I assured him that I could see it.

“They’ll call your name.”

I didn’t say anything because I naively assumed that he would go on after that.
He did not.  

 “They’ll call my name,” I prompted him.
“Right. And they’ll-“
I was already at the counter.  

The counter was staffed by three (or four, one was sort of there and not sort of there. I can’t explain it any better than that.) people whose job it was to listen to people complain. I’d feel sorry for them if I had a shred of compassion but, as you may have heard, they fucked up my cell phone battery.  

When it was my turn (after the woman who broke three phones by opening them too hard) I explained, again, the problem and showed, again, my battery.  

I was informed that he had never seen a battery that bad. I was honored.  

“What would you like us to do?”
Really. He really asked me that with a straight face.  

 “What I would like,” I said with what I thought was a great deal of patience and composure, “is a new battery.”  

He typed awhile on his keyboard.  

Type type type.  

Click click click.  

I waited.  

 Type type type.  

Click click click.  

I waited.  

 Type type type.  

Click click click.  

“We have one left in stock.”

“Would you like it?”  

 “Yes, of course I would like the fucking battery, you monkey brained suit-filler. That is what I fucking asked for!” I didn’t say to him.  

 “Yes,” is what I said.  

“That’ll be $29.99.”  

Ah ah ah, no it won’t. “It is still under warranty.”  

Type type type.  

Click click click.  

“I’m sorry, um, sir. Your warranty expired six days ago.”  

If there is one thing I hate more than something breaking right after the warranty expired, it is being called “um sir.” What the hell is that? Did he have to think for a second, decide if I was a “sir?”  

 “OK, but I have insurance.”
“But that only covers the phone.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The battery is an accessory.”

I tried to explain that the battery, which came with the phone, in the same box as the phone, and is attached to the phone, is an integral part of the phone without which the phone will not and cannot work. Therefore it is not an accessory.  

Well, it turns out that Verizon does indeed consider a battery an accessory.

I told the feeb behind the counter I’d take it.  

Type type type.  

 Click click click.  

“I’m sorry, it was just sold.”  

While I was arguing with the fool, the last battery for my model was sold. If I believe him, that is. I think the guy was just a Stupid Inept Verizon A-Hole.  

The guy told me they could ship me one the next day, which would be Saturday, at no extra charge. Fine, no problem.  

Type type type.  

Click click click.  

“Same address as the account?”

Type type type.  

Click click click.  

“Same address.?’
“Uh huh.”  

 Type type type.  

Click click click.   “2 –?“
“Yeah, yeah, 2-.”  

I was ready to leap over the counter and, after planting my foot in his left ear, through his skull, and out his right, just type it all in myself.  

 Type type type.  

 Click click click.  

“OK, you’ll get it tomorrow.”  

Now I really doubted that. Other people were being told that their orders would arrive by Tuesday, so I just assumed I’d get it on Tuesday and left. As I walked away, the guy from the counter called out “thank you and –“  

 I kept walking.  

To the shock of no one, my battery did not arrive.  

No battery.  

No battery.  

I rushed home from work, not really like a kid on Christmas morning, just like a guy who hates work, and lo and behold! No battery.  

No battery.  

I went back to the Verizon store and the first thing that struck me was the fact that not a single person who was working there last week was working there this week. However, I was swarmed by a (totally different) trio of willing and eager brain cells.  

 The one who pushed to the front first was a very Irish woman named Jamie. How Irish was she? Her freckles were drunk. (Just kidding, Irish! I love your whiskey.)  

I explained the problem to her, and clearly told her that “I was here a week ago.”
“They have until 7pm.”
“It has been a week.”

I’ll skip the details because, believe it or not, Jamie was helpful and competent. Here is the timeline of what really happened to my battery, and read it carefully to witness the wonderful fraud that is “2-day shipping.”  

Friday (day one)- my order went into the system.
Saturday (day two)- the Verizon warehouse is closed.
Sunday- the Verizon warehouse is closed.
Monday (day three)- Verizon sent my battery to FedEx
Tuesday (day four)- FedEx receives my package.
Wednesday (day five)- FedEx does not make the first attempt to deliver.
Thursday (day six)- FedEx does nothing.
Friday (day seven)- via Jamie, FedEx explained that I would have to pick it up at their warehouse.  

So what happened? FedEx had the wrong address, a non-existant address. Jamie gave them the correct address but they could not update it because it came from outside of the system, i.e.: from Verizon.  

Verizon could not fix the address because it had left their system, i.e.: to FedEx.  

Verizon’s solution was to let them return the package to Verizon. They would credit my account, then repurchase the battery and send it out again, and maybe it would even have the correct address.  

How long would that take? About a week.  

I picked option two, which means that tomorrow I’m going to East New York to get my cell phone battery.  

PREDICTION: Since my ID will not match the non-existent address on the package, they will refuse to give it to me.  

 I’ll let you know.

One Response to “Stupid Inept Verizon A-Holes”


  1. I love You Verizon, You Stupid A**hats. « Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride - April 26, 2010

    […] avowed my love of Verizon before, notably here, but my love for them keeps growing, much like the fungus you find after a strong rain, so here is […]


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