HP Customer Service: Simple is too Simple Part II

Sleek, glistening computer and monitor sit quietly. The beginnings of dust particulate matter forms on the edges of the keyboard's space bar and the jutting lip beneath the cd-rom insert. The four-day old computer with its extra Power Supply Box still lacks a power supply cord.

I made the call - again- to customer service. Because I had a p.t. appointment for an injury, I was a bit cranky from some residual inflammation and not willing to be so, how you say, patient with the lack of electrical comprehension. No more Miss Nice Gal.

HPSC: HPSC, my name is ***, will you be willing to take a short customer service survey at the close of this phone call?

HOME: Sure.
HPSC: Is this Miss Bossybeehive?
HOME: Yes.
HPSC: How may I help you Miss BBH?
HOME: Well, you should see in your records that a call was made to your customer service center on Saturday, April 11.
HPSC: Yes. Yes I see that you called. How may I help you?
HOME: If you notice in the notes, there was a problem in our shipment.
HPSC: I see that you purchased a shiny new computer which is a fine computer.
HOME: I don't know about that because You People (I never refer to anyone as You People, but this just fell out so appropriately) failed to send an electrical cord with the computer, and then today failed to send me an electrical cord as a replacement part.
HPSC: I see that we ordered you a Power Supply Box and...
HOME: Yes. A Power Supply Box does not satisfy the problem because we have no power.
HPSC: I'll transfer you to Technical Support.
HOME: No. Technical Support won't help with this problem because it's not related to anything technical. It's a power cord. You know, like the thing that connects to the wall and to the computer. That is what you didn't send.
HPSC: I see that a power supply cord is not listed in the accessories that you ordered.
HOME: It shouldn't be! It's a cord. It's not an extra. The cords aren't noted for the speakers that hook to the computer, the cords aren't noted for the woofer that hooks to the computer, the cords aren't noted for the monitor that hooks to the computer. It's not an accessory! It's just a standard part of the computer.
HPSC: I'm sorry ma'am. I don't have a power cord listed here. Can you read me the inventory list that came with your computer?
HOME: Sure. But I'm telling you that it's not going to be listed because it shouldn't have to be. It's like doors on a new car. There're not listed in the inventory because they're standard!
HPSC: Yes ma'am.
HOME: (I read the inventory list).
HPSC: The power cord is not on your list, ma'am.
HOME: I know it's not on the list. It's something that's expected to be in the box! If I lived in the middle of Antarctica and ordered this computer, I wouldn't have a local hardware store or BestBuy to drive to in order to purchase a power cord because it should've been in the box with the new computer. It's not an extra.
HPSC: Yes ma'am. Let me look for a part number.
HOME: There shouldn't Be a part number because it's just a fucking cord. It's a cord, like a snake, only rubberized with a girl-part on one end and a boy-part on the other. You know, three-prongs?
HPSC: Yes ma'am. Do you have the original list of items that you ordered to be included in the design of your computer? Perhaps it's on there and you did not check the box.
HOME: It's a cord! The computer is an electrical tool. It's a cord that connects the computer to the wall outlet, you know, to transfer electricity. You know, like the same kind that you have with a lamp, or a hair dryer or a radio. They run on electricity.
HPSC: Yes ma'am.
HOME: You don't know what I'm talking about do you?
HPSC: (Silence)
HOME: It looks like a rubber snake with gold pokey things near its tail that plug into the wall. I don't know how else to describe this. They're called electrical cords and there isn't one with this computer that I just purchased!
HPSC: Yes ma'am. Okay ma'am.
HOME: You still don't understand what I'm talking about do you?

HPSC: (silence)

HOME: Look, if I don't have the electrical cord, that black rubberized thing that hooks into the 3-prong portal at the back of my computer while the other end hooks into an electrical outlet, what do you expect me to use to move the electricity, tin foil and a couple forks? It's a cord. It's part of the computer. Yes, it's an electrical cord, but not a Power Supply Box, but rope-like, or a big fat worm.
If you just lean over and look behind your computer or any computer in your customer service center you'll see that there's a black cord, like licorice that connects your computer to some sort of electrical outlet or power strip. Do you see what I'm saying?
HPSC: Yes ma'am. Please hold.

(12 minutes later)

HPSC Supv: Hello Ms. BBH, this is floor supervisor ###. How may I help you?
HOME: (I repeat the same yell-a-thon schpiel I just ranted at cust svc rep ***). I don't get why this is so difficult to understand. It's like something from Kindergarten it's so fucking simple! It's an electrical cord. Not an accessory. Not a power strip. Not a Power Supply Box. Not a cosmetic case or a calculator. It's a cord. We use them to plug in things that need electricity, like, oh, this computer, which doesn't have one!
HPSC Supv: I understand.
HOME: Do you? Because it seems like it's over-simplified and the fact that all I need is a power cord to solve my new computer's problem isn't listed in the HP customer service script of how-tos.
HPSC Supv: Yes. I understand. For your inconvenience, we'll credit you $xx.
HOME: Well, thank you, but that still doesn't get me any electricity between my wall and the computer. What do you want me to do put my finger in the socket and simply hover over the computer and create static electricity?
HPSC Supv: No ma'am. I understand your frustration. We'll order you another Power Supp...
HOME: No. I don't need a box. I need a cord. A cord. Please. Just stand up and lean over your computer and see what I'm talking about. It's the same thing as what we use to turn on our refrigerators and toasters. That black ropey looking thing. It's a power cord. It has 3 prongs on one end and hooks into the wall, and 3 receding prongs on the other that hook into the back of the computer.
HPSC Supv: Okay. I'm leaning over my computer and I see a cord that attaches to the computer.
HOME: Is it 3-pronged? (I can't believe she's actually looking at the back of her computer)
HPSC Supv: Yes. And it connects to the surge protector.
HOME: I don't want a surge protector. I want that first cord you mentioned. The 3-prong to 3-prong cord.
HPSC Supv: It's 3-prong to 2-prong.
HOME: Yea, okay, I don't have one so I can't tell you if that's how it should be. But it's a power cord. It sends electricity to the computer from the outlet.
HPSC Supv: Yes ma'am. I understood you needed a Power Supply Box. This is what you need?
HOME: That's what I've been screaming about.
HPSC Supv: Please hold on one moment.
(3 minutes later...)
Okay we'll send you this replacement part in a few days?
HOME: That is absolutely unacceptable. Next day air or overnight. I live an hour from HP headquarters why can't one of these people just drop one off at my house? (Can't believe I said 'these people'). I'm sure one of the HP board members lives near me.
HPSC Supv: Yes ma'am. We'll send this overnight. I'll give you the replacement part number.
HOME: A part number for a cord? Okay.
HPSC Supv: We'll send this overnight.

*+*+*+*
I realized when the phone call ended that I wasn't transferred to the customer service survey people.

HP Customer Service: Simple is too Simple

Bought an HP desktop computer the other day. Did the whole thing online, you know, to customize it like some sort of sooped up car. Shiny, fast, a few whistles, a couple bells, silent, though, not all revved up with massive exhaust pipes and fans.



Took 7 days from order to front door FedEx delivery. Very exciting, getting a huge box - let alone any box - delivered via FedEx to the door. The doorbell Ding-donged! Cute guy in FedEx midnight blue shorts and shirt hauls up this coffin-sized box. Couldn't just leave it at the door like everything else; had to actually have a live human sign for it. Box was unmarked save for the white upc stickers. It could've been a dead body (or a bunch of fishes in newspaper)sent from Uncle Vinny, for all I knew. Heavy too.



Handle holes on the side allowed me to shoosh it inside the door and scare Basco and Gracie into a major sniff-a-thon. Dead body still scored high on the list, although if it were, I think both dogs would have rubbed their bodies all over the cardboard, just like the allure of a very post-mortem seagull or other maimed mammal in the woods. I bent down next to them and, yes, sniffed too. No pronounceable or obvious scents to alert Horatio & the Miami CSI folks about.



Dragged the boxes (monitor came separately) up to the kitchen where I'd already disassembled the archaic 5 year old computer. Opened the giant box and found, of course, the sleek black computer and its sidecar box of accessories: speakers, keyboard, mouse, you know all the goodies.



Pulled everything out, laid it onto the floor and followed the simple 6-step pictograph poster for Installing Your New HP Computer. Easy peezy. Monitor-check. Speakers-check. Keyboard & mouse wireless usb thing-check.

Finally, "Step 5: Connect Power. Connect computer to electrical outlet." Seems easy enough. Hmm. Where's the 3-prong power cord? Searched through the casket box. Nothing. Scanned the styro-packing. Nothing. Dug through the keyboard, monitor, and accoutrement packaging. Nothing but black twist-ties and empty plastic bags. Foraged under the desk and in Gracie's toy basket (just in case). Nothing. Nowhere.

A brand spankin' new HP computer with snappy little speakers - and shoebox sized woofer, too!- a glossy monitor and only air to draw the electricity from the wall to the computer. This seemed strange to me: was this one of those 'accessories not included' things like Malibu Barbie's van and yellow polka-dotted bikini?

From the home phone, called HP Customer Svc. and explained the situation, in short, 'There's no power cord in the box.'
HPSC: Ma'am, what's the part number for this?
Home: What part number? It's a power cord.
HPSC: On your inventory list, it should have a part number.
Home: (Review inventory list) There's no part number because it's a power card. It connects the computer to the electrical outlet in the wall.
HPSC: If it's not listed in your inventory list then it must be sold separately.
Home: It's a power cord, it's not an accessory. It gives the computer the electrical energy.
HPSC: Let me transfer you to I.T. Perhaps they can help you with this.
Home: There's nothing for I.T. to do because there's no power. There's no technical assistance I need because there's no electricity running to the computer. I just need the power cord.
HPSC: I understand what you're saying ma'am, but if it's not listed in your inventory and you didn't add it in to your computer purchase then it's not included.
Home: It's a computer! It needs electricity! It doesn't run on batteries. All I need is the electrical cord that attaches to the computer and the electrical outlet.
HPSC: It sounds like you need a Power Supply Box.
Home: Fine, if that's what you call an electrical cord, then yes, I suppose a Power Supply Box is needed.
HPSC: I'm sorry for your inconvenience in all this. We will credit you $x for this inconvenience.
Home: Thank you. So you're sending a power cord?
HPSC: Yes ma'am. We'll be sending you a Power Supply Box soon.
Home: Soon? No. I've spent $xx on this computer and because of HP's mistake, I can't turn it on. You'll be sending it to me via FedEx next day or overnight.
HPSC: Yes ma'am. Again, I'm sorry for your inconvenience. We'll send you the Power Supply Box overnight.
Home: Thank you.
--click--
That was Saturday.
On Tuesday, a heavy package arrived via FedEx on the doorstep. Surprised at the box's girth and weightiness, I opened it immediately, thinking that they must have included the inconvenience $$ credit inside as a sack of coins.

I withdrew the double-layer bubble-wrapped contents. Indeed, it was a Power Supply Box. This, btw, is a 3"x 5" x 5" metal box with the (innie) outlet on one side and about 50 multi-colored wires poking out the other. At the terminal end of said wires are plastic things, meant for plugging into some other matched-up pokey things within the bowels of the computer, not unlike the serial port attachments, only way smaller and more of them.

I checked the box. I checked the bubble wrap. I checked the packing slip which said "Please find the enclosed replacement part sent to you by HP Express Parts Program....Your product is ready for installation..."
I looked outside the front door just in case I missed something, like, oh, another package containing a Power Cord.
There was none.

Gen-X Solo-Travel: Will She Make it to the Airport?

A few months ago, my 22 y/o niece, Keisha, decided that she wanted to travel to Europe. She'd just quit her job in a grocery store, prior to that she'd quit her job in a cafe, and prior to that, she'd quit her job working at a theater box office. She stopped attending classes at the local community college because she didn't think it was worthwhile. And why not? She was active in her high school's drama department and hoped to move to L.A. or NY to get discovered (or rich?), a lá Lana Turner at Schwab's soda shop or like J-Lo bumping into the senatorial candidate in Maid in Manhattan.

Her grandmother decided that there was not enough room in her Malibu home for granddaughter Keisha, aka Juliet Marks, or Lily White (stage names) to live while her budding acting career launched itself into Hollywood's open arms.

Because she lacked income, her boyfriend booted her from their shared apartment. She moved back in with my brother, Tommy the single father.

Then she decided to travel. She'd ventured with Tommy --who made all arrangements and studied the guides-- to Seattle, Chicago, the Oregon Coast, and Las Vegas. It was this latter point of interest that spurred her Big Trip.
They tip-toed through the Wynn, open-mouth awed the Chihuly jellyfish glass beauties at the Bellagio, admired the sultry legs of the Pharaoh-clad employees at the Luxor, and dreamed of 5th Avenue at NY-NY. Around 10pm, they leaned over the canal at the ever-daylight Venetian boat launch area and Keisha was bitten. "I love this!" she said to Tommy. He wasn't sure if it was the dusky lighting, the gondola or the striped gondolier, or the $8 she just won in the Wheel-of-Fortune slot machine, or even M&M World which they strolled to earlier in the day that she adored. It didn't matter anyway.

Three months later, she's in Venice, Italy for a solid week of travel. The real Venice, not the Venetian, which may have been a better, English-speaking option given her travel-saaviness. She's traveling alone this time, not with Tommy, though. At present, following two-and-a-half days of Venice, she's holed up in her hotel room with a dead cell phone and a credit card that's mounting in debt.

One week ago, she arrived in Venice with two outfits. Once she leaves Italy, she's planning on spending a week in London. She had no hotel reservation, nor a hostel reservation. She's knows nary a lick of Italian language other than a few entrées and Peregrino. She has not a map of Venice. And, despite my brother's urging to purchase an adapter, "Dad, quit telling me what to do! I know what I need!" she has no means for communication other than the $1000/minute hotel phone. She purchased a phone card in the airport when she landed, she's already used it up. Since she doesn't know any Italian, she doesn't know where to buy another.

She took a cab from the airport to a hotel recommended by an [employed attorney] family friend. Her room overlooks a canal. I wonder if this is a good thing or bad thing given ambient temperature and wind direction.
Day one in Venice: Step outside the hotel, walk two cobblestone blocks (again, no map or guidebook) and she's lost. Can't ask for directions because it's Off Season, so the major English-speaking touristy peops aren't there. Lost. In Venice. Three hours later, return to hotel.
Day two in Venice: She asked the hotel's front desk person for assistance in finding a cafe and a couple sites. Cobblestone turn, cobblestone straight, cobblestone turn, a canal, a turn, an old building, and, voila! Lost again. Four hours later, return to hotel. Call father and cry during expensive phone call. "I hate it here! It all looks the same and I keep getting lost. I'm not leaving my hotel room again."

Prior to this whole trip, while my brother was in Reno, he received a desperate phone call from Keisha. She bawled on the phone, gasping for air between sobs. "Slow down," he said, "tell me what's going on." Again, I'd like to point out she's 22 years old.

"It's ONE WAY! I'm stuck there. It's only One Way!" sob sob sob.

Tommy sat down and pressed the phone to his ear, as if this would help him comprehend the situation better. "What's one way? What are you talking about?"

"The ticket. It's One Way. I'm stuck there. I'm just going to let it go and forget about this whole stupid trip thing. How was I supposed to know?"
Apparently, in her independent state of mind, she failed to notice that her online purchase of said ticket to Venice from Portland, via Washington, DC was one-way versus roundtrip. $600.

I decided to try doing this myself, to go through the very confusing process of purchasing a one-way vs. roundtrip ticket from Portland-Venice, Italy-Portland.
First, I googled Flights to Venice, Italy. Seemed clear enough. Lots of choices. I went with Cheap Flights, then plunked in the information, you know, starting point, end point, list by price etc. Right there, all neon and clear it defaulted to Round Trip. I had to physically click One Way. Found a RT for $629. About ten minutes with distractions.
I'm still trying to figure out how she managed this minor oversight.
Because she was debilitated and he was out of town, Tommy's friends helped her out. Got her back stateside by way of London, through Dublin. Another $600. Cha-ching! Said atty's son/family friend suggested that as long as she was flying out of London, she might as well stay a few days, hence the 5 days there beginning this Friday.
Little problem: how oh how is Keisha going to get from way-south Italy to way north England? Oh my oh my. Just a detail that's a bit overlooked and she has no Eurail pass, nor enuf for a bumpy 3-day taxi or busride. I'm thinking mule. Anyone else agree on this?

So, there's my neice, someone who would be eaten alive in NYC (although she loved the NY-NY hotel in Vegas). Someone who would openly sit at a romantic Venezia cafe and tell some handsome English-speaking Italian hotty that she 'can't believe how hard it is to get around Venice! It's a good thing I'm carrying my cell phone, passport, plane tix, and all my cash right here (points to belly) in my money belt! Don't know if I'll ever get back to my hotel room!'
And with that, Hotty Italiano will wink at his buddies across the cobbled road and they'll offer to walk her back to her hotel, the name of which she's butchered to "L'Hotelio Venezia, or something like that." And somehow she'll find a way to help them out financially with their broken down Fiat or ailing mother's health or some taxicab-hydroplane scheme that will help her get up to the island London.

I told Tommy to locate his local Western Union office, and that the next time he speaks with Keisha (via costly hotel phone) he should tell her to do the same as I foresee a financial deficit in the near future of my wise-cracking crystal ball. If she's not pick-pocketed or scammed of all her low-value American dollars in Venice, I wonder what will happen in London where they speak English and she, naive and all, still has no idea where she's not going.

Mind you, some people are really good fly-by-the-seat-of-yer-pants travelers. Keisha is not one of these people..... yet.

In the meantime, I'm hoping that she can simply bump into another English-speaking traveler in the hotel lobby who can help her get a good meal or cup of espresso, or at least a regular route out-and-back from her hotel.