Today I had the daunting realization that I must change my email. Not to get away from the creditors, or even the penis enlargement people who spam me every day. I have to dump my email because it is connected to my main tv/internet service provider, and the service is crap. One friend told me she was actually transferred to the company “anger management” line, when trying to find out what all the extra charges on her bill were. Quite a few people need to get pissed off before a company will set up what is basically a new office. I imagine a new a red button on their phones, for those customers who are so irate they won’t take no for an answer.
“I don’t want ten dollars off my next bill, and I will leave this company(for basically the same other monopoly) but NOT BEFORE SPEAKING TO THE MANAGER. “
But on this, special service line, they are all the manager. They are special operatives, trained in soothing tones of voice. They have psychology backgrounds. Or, like me, they got a B.A. in Art History and have basically said, screw it, I am unemployable, I better just take this stupid job where people scream at me all day.
This particular internet snafu fix it guy was very pleasant, and there was no need to call in the anger task force. He still couldn’t untangle my email problems,or fix my “spam situation”, which had somehow clogged my email account like a plaque filled artery.
I joked with him.
“I really don’t need these emails about Brittany Spear’s Boobs. Or Ford Trucks. Or free lobsters or dinners at Olive Garden, and I definitely don’t need the one’s about penis enlargement,” I add, just because we have been on the phone for about two hours and I feel like we are having our first date. It isn’t going well. We are both bored.
“Heh, heh,” he laughs, “No comment, except once you get on one list, you seem to get on them all.”
This seems fair. I suddenly think about searching for the truck ball story. Oops. That explains the fords, and perhaps the enlargement spam. I also once googled the name of an Italian restaurant and up came a site geared to gay men who call themselves “Bears”. Enlightening, sure, but I was looking for pizza.
I admired his courage, as he told me in a hushed whisper,
“You need to switch your service provider. Get a different email account!”
If the company representatives are telling you to get out while you can, then you really need to. But I get attached to email address’. What if someone from five years ago suddenly needs to contact me? What if I lose some valuable contact that I don’t know exists in there? WHAT IF SOMEONE WANTS TO GIVE ME A JOB?
But then I think, that’s okay. They will find me, somehow. And maybe for a time, I won’t have to worry about enlarging my non-existant penis.