Believe me, have I had a frustrating few days!
It all started out about four weeks ago when quite a large number of phones were knocked out due to a severe electrical storm. After multiple calls for repairs and time slots not met, the repair man finally showed up late on this past Sunday afternoon. After checking and repairing the box connections on the house, he checked my phone and found out it, too, had been damaged.
At my son’s suggestion, we decided that it might be more convenient for me, as well as the caller, to get a cellphone that could be carried in a pocket. This made sense, as during the nice weather, I am not often in the house or anywhere near it during daylight hours.
It is just short of a one-hour drive from Markdale to Owen Sound, the closest telephone office, where we could pick up a phone. At the counter, we were told of their special where the cellphone was free and the monthly cost was similar to my regular phone.
What more could one want? Then she added, “I’m sorry, we are presently out of stock. They are on back order, but we don’t know when they will be coming in.”
I have lived long enough to know that this is often just a sales gimmick, but on seeing other offers, I decided the move up would be less than a trip back when and if the first option did arrive. It was then that I was notified that you now had to have photo identification before she could sell me a cellphone. It was further suggested that we could get an Ontario photo ID across town at the social service building. Across town in Owen Sound is across the bay, so off we went in a downpour of rain and in bumper-to-bumper traffic due to road construction, negotiating around the bay.
On arrival there, it was suggested at the desk that we pick up a number and wait our turn. The number that appeared on the call-board was 23 short of the number 80, which I held in my hand. Two hours later, as it poured down rain outside, my number came up.
A few questions were asked, a $35 fee requested, a picture was taken, and a form printed from their computer was ticked off where yes or no questions were listed. I signed this form and a copy was handed to me. It was not until then that I was told that the ID card would be sent to me by mail in approximately four to six weeks.
Knowing I would have to come back to the phone company with the card when it arrived, I picked up a cheap plug-in phone at Home Hardware to tide me over the waiting period.
We were halfway back home before I realized that the salesperson had not asked me for my mailing address. On checking my copy of the application that she had handed me, the address printed there was one that I have not lived at in over 20 years.
When home, I called the 800 number on the back of the form to inform them of the mistake, and I was told that they could not correct it. I would have to go back, in person, and have them correct it there.
Is there any wonder why folks my age have stress-related heart attacks?
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105