I was just cleaning up my desktop--and this is riveting, June! I can't wait to read on! And I saw a screen shot I took for you, because I wanted to complain about something.
This is so unusual, June! I can't wait to read on! Usually you're so chipper!
I pay most of my bills online, as does I think most of the community at large who does not still have dial-up and a rotary phone and a unicycle and a barbershop quartet and 23 skidoo.
As a result, I have some observations about companies. Actually, I now have TWO observations about companies.
This continues to be riveting, June! Ima read on!
My first observation is about unsubscribing. As you know, from your Big Book of June Events, I have a hater who daily subscribes me to ludicrous things, things that generally make me giggle. Today I had TWENTY-SEVEN new emails from the same religious site, because they have a newsletter for each occasion. How to be a Christian married person. How to be a Christian at work. How to be a depressed Christian. How to be a Christian hater of a blog.
Yesterday I had to unsubscribe from a Russian bride dating service. Not before sending some love to Valeriya for a moment.
The point is, I've gotten adroit at unsubscribing. Companies vary wildly on their ability to let you unsubscribe. Dear FOX Sports: Go fuck yourself. If ONE company makes it easy, why don't all of them?
I mean, really. Is there some yahoo in marketing who thinks if you make it nearly impossible to get out of that company's emails, that one day we will melt over something you sent and eventually buy your shit? BECAUSE NO. What we will DO is FORVER HATE, say, FOX Sports and even if we turn lesbian and start getting way up in the latest volleyball stats, we will NEVER EVER GET SAID STATS FROM FUCKING impossible-to-get-out-of FOX Sports emails.
Some companies have the unsubscribe link right at the top. I love these companies. Not enough to want their emails, but still.
Some companies make you search like Nancy Drew, all over yonder, for how to unsubscribe. And they say annoying things like, "Manage Your Subscriptions." Just call a spade a spade, you dicks. There's not one person in all the world who wants to opt out of one of your riveting emails but, oh, yes, DO send me the Paleo diet updates, still, thanks. Just not the grapefruit-and-vomit diet ones.
THEN there are the assholes who, even though THEY EMAILED YOU, need you to RE-ENTER your email address once you're on their page trying to unsubscribe. Oh, eat a bag of dicks. You KNOW my address. YOU WROTE ME. It's like when a business calls you and you call them back and whomever answers the phone acts like they have no idea why you called. YOU CALLED ME OH MY GOD.
Oh, and the FOLLOW-UP email. Just writing to let you know you won't be receiving any more emails from us.
I JUST DID! I JUST DID NOW JUST NOW I HATE YOU FOX SPORTS.
So that's bad enough, but then there are the places that make it impossible to pay your bill. My mortgage company never sends me a confirmation email, so each month I have to remember their address, and they don't use their company name, Cenlar, as the web address to pay your mortgage. It's something really generic like paymymortgage or billpay or some shit. And then of course the site never remembers my name and password for me, like the whole world is clamoring to get online and pay my mortgage for me, so it has to remain super secret.
It's like, we're going to get REALLY MAD if you miss your mortgage payment, but we're also going to make it REALLY HARD to pay it! Go forth! Be zen!
And it's the same with effing AT&T. My cell phone is on AT&T. My Internet and cable are AT&T. But do you think I can get one bill for all three things? Then you must be high. It feels like every week I'm getting an email from AT&T. "Friendly reminder! Your bill is now due!"
Friendly reminder. No one who's ever said that in the history of time has meant "friendly." It means pay up, ho. You stanky ho.
This month I got a reminder, but when I went to AT&T, it said my bill was paid. I went to my bank statement online, and it said a week before I'd paid $132 to AT&T. Was that the cable bill? Or the phone bill? I have no idea. Was there a follow-up email? No.
THREE PHONE CALLS AND TWO HOURS LATER, after talking to countless people at AT&T and being disconnected and put on hold for eight centuries and getting to know Marie Antoinette but the whole time I had a phone to my ear, they determined the site was screwed up JUST ESPECIALLY FOR ME, and that it was only showing that I paid my cable bill but wasn't allowing me to get to my cell phone bill.
"You can pay over the phone to me, but it's a five-dollar convenience fee," the woman at AT&T said.
A convenience fee.
A CONVENIENCE FEE.
I'd been on the phone for NINE YEARS trying to just fucking pay online, and their site wouldn't LET me, and now they're saying well, hey, pay on the phone, but convenience fee.
Oh my GOD.
When that woman started paying her bill online, she was 12. That's a cup of arsenic in her hand. Her hair was straight when the day began, and it curled in anger as the day progressed.
The reason everything's white is because she went to heaven, waiting to pay her bill online.
Anyway, that's June's business column for today. Ima go take my Lexapro. You think?
Click here to manage your subscription,