As a Sprint customer, I find the news that Sprint lost $29.5 billion last quarter... well... incredibly easy to believe. Also incredibly satisfying.
And I'm especially heartened to read that the company is acknowledging that it's losing money not because of market trends or writedowns related to its acquisition of Nextel, but because it's, um, losing customers at an astounding rate -- 700,000 customers who had annual contracts left in the last three months of 2007 alone. That's impressive.
I wonder if it has anything to do with the unimaginably atrocious customer service. Apparently, being complete assholes every time you interact with the people who pay you for the privilege of using your service does turn people off -- even if the customer service page on your corporate web site advises us that "Sprint wants you to enjoy the best customer experience."
Like many others, I have a Sprint tale of woe. Two years ago, someone hacked into my account and added three lines (including one for a phone number in northern Indiana -- ick!) and ran up about $800 in calls in a month. After weeks of my begging and pleading, Sprint kind of figured out that those lines and those calls weren't mine -- must have been tough since that's about what I spend on cell service in two years. But they were still going to make me pay half of the fraudulent charges.
It took several more emails and calls to work it out; each time I contacted them, they grudgingly agreed to knock off a hundred dollars or so until the balance came out to zero. Actually, because of their convoluted way of doing the math, I wound up with a credit of something like $7.32, which was great, but somehow made me hate them even more.
It's amusing that the CEO blames some of the company's struggles on the "brand" lacking "relevance and a clear message." I think the message that Sprint pretty much hates its customers comes through loud and clear.
Oh, and, yes, I'm still a customer. I get a monthly discount through my employer. What a sucker!
February 28, 2008
February 25, 2008
Spend in the clowns
Maybe contributing a few bucks to support the campaign of your fave presidential candidate is a very American thing to do -- playing your tiny-but-oh-so-valuable little role in this fine democratic system.
On the other hand, maybe you're just paying for a crapload of donuts (and, by the way, would you really support a candidate whose staff chose Dunkin' Donuts over Krispy Kremes?) and filling the coffers of overpaid and generally ineffectual corporate p.r. agencies.
Think maybe I'll do something more useful with that $25, like buy myself a donut and download 24 songs from iTunes.
On the other hand, maybe you're just paying for a crapload of donuts (and, by the way, would you really support a candidate whose staff chose Dunkin' Donuts over Krispy Kremes?) and filling the coffers of overpaid and generally ineffectual corporate p.r. agencies.
Think maybe I'll do something more useful with that $25, like buy myself a donut and download 24 songs from iTunes.
February 22, 2008
Name game
If your name is Allison Edwards or Allison Epstein or Allison Engel, this post will be really interesting.
When I was flying home on Monday, I sat behind a guy wearing a Hard Rock Cafe baseball cap. (How original of him.) On the back, said cap bore the following slogan, which I assume to be Hard Rock's signature: "ALL IS ONE."
After pausing to dedicate one great big deep thought to that profound and well-placed mantra, it occurred to me that it would be really cool for someone whose first name was Allison and last name started with an E to have a company named All is One.
When I was flying home on Monday, I sat behind a guy wearing a Hard Rock Cafe baseball cap. (How original of him.) On the back, said cap bore the following slogan, which I assume to be Hard Rock's signature: "ALL IS ONE."
After pausing to dedicate one great big deep thought to that profound and well-placed mantra, it occurred to me that it would be really cool for someone whose first name was Allison and last name started with an E to have a company named All is One.
February 14, 2008
I reject your rhetoric
In an article about the Obama-Clinton delegate duel, in today's New York Times:
"We don’t think our lead will drop below 100 delegates,” David Plouffe, Mr. Obama’s campaign manager, said in an interview. “The math is the math.”
Once and for all: Can people stop saying stupid things like that? (Or, at a minimum, can newspapers stop printing them?) Is it just me, or has this construction -- along with such brilliant turns as "It is what it is" -- suddenly become acceptable as worthwhile analysis of any given situation? Does anyone else think this is the laziest possible way to make a point? Does anyone else realize it doesn't actually mean anything?
I guess it's a useful rhetorical tool -- it's kind of hard to argue with someone who puts forth that "the math" is, in fact, "the math." But I think we need a new rule. If any sentence you're speaking begins and ends with the same two-word phrase, separated by another singular word, you should just shut up.
Sorry, you can't disagree with me. I write what I write.
"We don’t think our lead will drop below 100 delegates,” David Plouffe, Mr. Obama’s campaign manager, said in an interview. “The math is the math.”
Once and for all: Can people stop saying stupid things like that? (Or, at a minimum, can newspapers stop printing them?) Is it just me, or has this construction -- along with such brilliant turns as "It is what it is" -- suddenly become acceptable as worthwhile analysis of any given situation? Does anyone else think this is the laziest possible way to make a point? Does anyone else realize it doesn't actually mean anything?
I guess it's a useful rhetorical tool -- it's kind of hard to argue with someone who puts forth that "the math" is, in fact, "the math." But I think we need a new rule. If any sentence you're speaking begins and ends with the same two-word phrase, separated by another singular word, you should just shut up.
Sorry, you can't disagree with me. I write what I write.
If loving you is wrong...
Thanks to the continued steroid silliness on Capitol Hill, newspapers all over the nation today have front-page photos of Roger Clemens testifying that he never used performance enhancing drugs. (Kind of looks awkward in a suit, doesn't he?)
Smart move by Roger. I mean, vehemently asserting his innocence in front of a Congressional committee and scores of cameras worked so well for Rafael Palmeiro. Oh, wait a minute.
Anyway, if you read my previous entry about this idiocy, you know my theory that Congress is wasting its time on this imbecilic quest mostly because congressmen are hoping to rub shoulders with famous athletes. (An addendum to that theory is that these legislators were student-government dorks in high school who were jealous of the star athletes and they're taking out their frustration by harassing the kinds of guys who used to beat them up.)
Call it men's intuition. (Hm. Why is it I've never heard that phrase before?) Call it common sense. Call it an excuse to write another post on an otherwise slow news day. But I dare say that coverage of yesterday's hearings proves my little hypothesis.
To wit, the honorable Elijah E. Cummings, a Maryland Democrat, said this to Clemens: “It’s hard to believe you, sir. I hate to say that. You’re one of my heroes, but it’s hard to believe you.”
Snap!
Apparently, the microphone malfunctioned after that, so most people didn't hear him say, "And, can I get your autograph? Make it out to E.E., but make sure those initials are capitalized. People always confuse me with that poet guy."
And any notion that this isn't just ridiculous political grandstanding seems further supported by the fact that reporters have observed that the committee is split along party lines -- the Republicans generally siding with the players (shocker) and the Dems choosing to believe the allegations in the Mitchell Report.
Next, maybe Congress can get to the bottom of this whole Britney mess. Far-fetched? I don't think so.
Smart move by Roger. I mean, vehemently asserting his innocence in front of a Congressional committee and scores of cameras worked so well for Rafael Palmeiro. Oh, wait a minute.
Anyway, if you read my previous entry about this idiocy, you know my theory that Congress is wasting its time on this imbecilic quest mostly because congressmen are hoping to rub shoulders with famous athletes. (An addendum to that theory is that these legislators were student-government dorks in high school who were jealous of the star athletes and they're taking out their frustration by harassing the kinds of guys who used to beat them up.)
Call it men's intuition. (Hm. Why is it I've never heard that phrase before?) Call it common sense. Call it an excuse to write another post on an otherwise slow news day. But I dare say that coverage of yesterday's hearings proves my little hypothesis.
To wit, the honorable Elijah E. Cummings, a Maryland Democrat, said this to Clemens: “It’s hard to believe you, sir. I hate to say that. You’re one of my heroes, but it’s hard to believe you.”
Snap!
Apparently, the microphone malfunctioned after that, so most people didn't hear him say, "And, can I get your autograph? Make it out to E.E., but make sure those initials are capitalized. People always confuse me with that poet guy."
And any notion that this isn't just ridiculous political grandstanding seems further supported by the fact that reporters have observed that the committee is split along party lines -- the Republicans generally siding with the players (shocker) and the Dems choosing to believe the allegations in the Mitchell Report.
Next, maybe Congress can get to the bottom of this whole Britney mess. Far-fetched? I don't think so.
February 13, 2008
Small mess with Texas, or the Lone Nut State
If you've heard it once, you've heard it a million times: Small-town Texas mayor agrees to take care of her neighbors' dog for a few days, tells them dog's dead, changes dog's name and sends dog to live at her twin sister's ranch before being charged with tampering with evidence and fabricating a police report. (If only they could charge people with "being a raging moron," life would be so much better.)
The best part of the story? The small-town Texas mayor -- now ex-mayor -- has a lawyer who was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the very subtle message, "No Cupable." That's Spanish for not guilty, for those of you who live outside of Los Angeles.
Good thing the attorney picked that shirt out of his drawer instead of the one that was underneath it, which read, "Mi cliente está loco."
Here's some free advice you can file away for the next time you call your lawyer: If your legal counsel is professing your innocence via imprinted sportswear, it might be time to get new legal counsel.
Kudos to the Times for letting its writers get a little funky, though. Referring to the dog, whose name had been changed during this caper, the reporter observed: "Puddles/Panchito had no comment. But he sniffed around Mr. Canales’s desk and lifted a leg." And beneath a photo of the wacko mayor holding her pilfered puppy, this gem of a caption: "Grace Saenz-Lopez, ex-mayor, and Panchito, ex-Puddles. "
So, Stark, now aren't you sorry you left the Lone Star State?
The best part of the story? The small-town Texas mayor -- now ex-mayor -- has a lawyer who was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the very subtle message, "No Cupable." That's Spanish for not guilty, for those of you who live outside of Los Angeles.
Good thing the attorney picked that shirt out of his drawer instead of the one that was underneath it, which read, "Mi cliente está loco."
Here's some free advice you can file away for the next time you call your lawyer: If your legal counsel is professing your innocence via imprinted sportswear, it might be time to get new legal counsel.
Kudos to the Times for letting its writers get a little funky, though. Referring to the dog, whose name had been changed during this caper, the reporter observed: "Puddles/Panchito had no comment. But he sniffed around Mr. Canales’s desk and lifted a leg." And beneath a photo of the wacko mayor holding her pilfered puppy, this gem of a caption: "Grace Saenz-Lopez, ex-mayor, and Panchito, ex-Puddles. "
So, Stark, now aren't you sorry you left the Lone Star State?
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