Ah, the Joys of Moving!

Particularly, the joys of setting up all those delightful yet necessary services to which modern life has accustomed us.

As I write, I am sitting on the phone in my office, listening to terrible muzak, courtesy of AT&T customer service. I highly doubt I am even being routed to the correct operator. Thus far, I have spoken to 4 - count em - 4 operators, none of whom were any help. The first one I spoke to checked my order status, informed me that he didn't have a tracking number for the wireless modem I should be receiving, and transferred me to another operator.

That operator (#2) never really answered his/her phone, although the line picked up, and I had the privilege to hear an operator discussing her boyfriend. Now the question is: Why is discussing boyfriends so pressing that I had to be kept ON HOLD for 10 minutes before I was allowed to eavesdrop?

After saying, "Hello?" increasingly louder and more impatiently for a couple of minutes - and freaking out the janitor, poor guy - I hung up the phone. I dialed another number for AT&T, and briefly explained my predicament to the operator (#3) that answered. She transferred my call to another department: payments and billing.

Why, may I ask, would I wish to speak to payments and billing when I need a tracking number for an order I've already placed? I even told Operator #3 the department to which I needed to speak.

Operator #4 (Billing) informed me that I was speaking to the wrong department, which I knew as soon as she answered the phone. In an exasperated tone of voice, she informed me that she would transfer me. Obviously, it was my fault that I had been mistranferred.

A lovely woman named Donna answered the phone next - after a further 15 minutes of waiting on hold. I explained to her my predicament, gave her my telephone number, and asked for her help.

My wireless modem was delivered on July 31. A person by the name of Brennan supposedly signed for it.

Nobody lived in my apartment on July 31. I didn't move in until August 1. When I informed Donna of this, she seemed confused. She was even more confused by the fact that - although I can place calls from and receive calls to my telephone number - my telephone/DSL account is not "active." She also provided me with the tracking number for my UPS package.

My UPS package was signed for at a "dock" in Fort Worth, Texas. Why the hell did it end up in Fort Worth?!?!? So now, I apparently have to call UPS to find out why my package was signed for by this person named Brennan in Fort Worth.

It has been an hour since I placed my first call to AT&T, and nothing has been resolved. After Donna, I spoke to another fellow, who told me he'd have to look something up on my account. Another person picked up after I'd been on hold for another bazillion minutes, and he asked me for the number of my "Trouble Ticket." I informed him that I didn't have one. He asked me to please hold on while he got one for me, and then...

I was rerouted to the initial customer support telephone menu. Because it is a high-traffic time of day, I am on hold, yet again, awaiting someone who will doubtlessly shuttle me around again until I have an aneurysm or attempt to throw myself out the window of my 4th floor office.

Of course, I would never throw myself from the 4th floor window because I'm afraid of heights.

A young woman finally answered the phone after a further 10 minutes of being on hold, and she informed me that she couldn't help me. She transferred me to another department, automated of course. At the end of a barely intelligible menu (people with lisps should not do the voice for automated menus), I received a busy signal and was forced to hang up. When I tried to call back the number I'd just called to get through all the hub-bub, I was informed by a lovely automated message that their office is closed, and will open again tomorrow.

I am so incredibly angry right now that I can't see straight. I think I will go home, now, as there's really nothing more to do.