I call Customer Service to see if they can give me more details. I go through the usual crazy phone tree (there has got to be a better way) and finally get to talk to a person. I ask him if he can elaborate more on this mysterious call — maybe what number I was connected to via 411? Of course all he can tell me is that it was a 411 charge. Bah.

• What do I do if I think this charge is bogus?
• I can go ahead and adjust that charge.
• That would be great, thanks.
• Just give me a minute. I need to make sure that is something I can actually do…ok. I’ve removed that charge. If it appears again, I don’t know what to do since we can only adjust one charge per account.

So apparently, I’ve blown my one account adjustment on a $1.99 fake 411 charge. Next they will stick me with a $50 March Madness fee and there is nothing they can do about it. “We already adjusted one charge on your account. Our hands are tied.” The future is dark.

But today’s story ends with a shining beacon of hope: AT&T tried to sucker an extra $2 out of me (because the usual iPhone bill isn’t enough of a screw) and I caught it, and they took it back. Score one for the customer!

RELATED: Here’s oldie, but a goodie. Verizon’s Dirty, Little, Secret Charges.

Today’s airline rant come courtesy of American Airlines. They may now join United on the list of “airlines I will avoid flying unless there is absolutely no other alternative.”

In November, I took a trip to Missouri on AA. On the way home, they oversold the flight* and asked for volunteers. “Who wants to hang out in the Dallas airport for an extra three hours? We’ll give you $300!” Deal, I’m in.

So they hand me the $300 voucher and tell me that I need to keep it because they do not accept copies, only the original. (That was the only instruction I received.)

A month goes by and I decide to book another flight to Missouri. (Actually, I’m flying into Arkansas and out of Kansas City, so I’m sure that will make things extra confusing later.)

I assume that I can go to aa.com, pick my flight, enter my voucher number, pay the difference in price, and I’m good to go. There should be no opportunity for chaos or hilarity.

Hmm…I can’t seem to find where to enter the voucher number. No instructions on the voucher itself. I guess I’ll call Customer Service.

[insert the usual phone tree nonsense here]

When I finally get to a person, he tells me I need to go to their website (!) and pick a flight. But do not BUY the ticket, just put the ticket on HOLD. Then call back (!!) and he will apply the voucher to my held ticket. Um…ok.

So I go back to aa.com and pick some flights and put them on HOLD. Then I call Customer Service back, again. This time he tells me I need to mail them the voucher. He can’t take any info over the phone. He gives me a PO Box number in Florida and instructs me to mail the voucher, as well as include the flight numbers and dates ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE ENVELOPE UNDER THE RETURN ADDRESS. What? Really? Fine, whatever. I drop the voucher in the mail 20 minutes later.

Weeks go by.

Since I haven’t heard anything from the airline after mailing them my voucher (which is probably how this thing was handled back in 1978), I call Customer Service.

[insert the usual phone tree nonsense here]

• We did not receive your voucher.
• What should I do?
• The voucher needs to be postmarked by Dec. 26.
• I already mailed it. Weeks ago.
• We did not receive it. Make sure it is postmarked by Dec. 26.
• Um…I don’t have it, because I ALREADY MAILED IT, on Dec 14. But I did make a photocopy.
• Ok, good. Take that to the airport and they can help you.
• They will tell me that they need the original, not a copy, and then they will tell me to call Customer Service.
• Why do you think that?
• Because that’s how this thing always works.**
• The person at the airport will help you.

So, I take an unnecessary trip to the airport. On Christmas Eve. Airports are basically a series of lines. A line to check-in. A line to check bags. A line get through security. A line to sit on the bench to put all your clothes back on after going through security. A line to get in line to get on the plane. A line to get off the plane. A line to get your bags. A line to get a taxi. I fucking hate airports.

After waiting in the Christmas Eve check-in line for 30 minutes, I get up to the counter. I tell the agent the whole story up to this point.

• …so now here I am with this photocopy and my reservation numbers.
• We can’t take a photocopy. It needs to be the original. You should try contacting Customer Service.
• [head collapses]

She calls the secret employee Customer Service number, where she gets to skip the phone tree and only gets transferred twice. Those airline employees get all the perks! After speaking with a supervisor, she tells me that everything should be ok. She has documented the entire incident on my reservation record, and I should call Customer Service 72 hours before my flight to have my ticket moved from “purchased” to “ticketed”. What? That doesn’t even make any sense. Why would someone what to “purchase” a ticket, but not actually have a “ticket”? I don’t understand. Whatever.

So that’s where we are at. Several phone calls, one PO Box, and a drive to the airport, and all I have to show for it is “call back three days before your flight…everything will be fine.” Riiiiight.

I’m not a UI designer (yes I am) but it seems like this entire thing could have been avoided by having a place on their purchase webpage with a field called “Enter your voucher number here”. No phone calls, no post office box, no wasting everybody’s time. Of course, if AA were to start listening and responding to user feedback, people would lose their jobs.

At first I thought this whole voucher system was just a way to make it difficult to redeem so people wouldn’t do it. (I’m looking at you, Mail-in Rebate!) Now I realize that even if you do go through the crazy steps to redeem it, they will find another way to make it *impossible* for them to hold up their end of the bargain. I got them out of a bind by taking a later flight, they make me jump through hoops and laugh at my expense. Good times.

I heard a rumor that American Airlines is going to expand their business plan:

1. Hire a team of highly qualified customer service agents to locate children’s lemonade stands.
2. Order a large glass of lemonade, not pay for it, and then punch the child in the face.
3. Complain to the government that they might go bankrupt due to their horrible business plan.
4. Receive bailout money.
5. Hire a team of highly qualified customer service agents to locate an animal shelter.
6. Rinse and repeat.

Some guy trying to cancel his AOL account:

It’s audio only, but there is a video of a blimp in case you need something to hold your attention.

Adobe installers have been covered other places, so I won’t repeat all that here.

Microsoft actually uses the native Mac OS X installer, but still manages to make it extremely over-complicated. I’ll go over the install step by step…

Double-click the installer. This is what I see:

Nothing strange there. Click Continue.

I’m not really sure what this means, but I’ll click Continue.

License Agreement. Standard stuff. It’s worth noting the strange line breaks around “updates, supplements, Internet-based services, and support services”. Continue.

Yes, I really really agree. Agree. Move on.

Quit everything. I guess that makes sense. Continue Installation.

Product key. Got it. Don’t know why it needs to be displayed in the installer, since it clearly says that it’s also in the About menu of each app and when you call MS for help, they’ll tell you to go to the About menu. Whatever. Continue.

A breakdown of what can be installed. Nothing really strange here except that if you add the size of each component, it totals 585mb. However, the installer claims that the total size of Office is 927mb. Remind me again why I don’t really trust MS software? Click Install.

Alright…installer progress bar. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for! The heavens open and the angels sing! Glory to all!

Remove Office? What now? I just installed Office. Oh, it is telling me that it will find older versions (including the demo, which apparently causes “problems”) and remove them. I would think that it could check on its own and then warn me if there is going to be a problem. I won’t have any previous versions because this is a brand new hard drive. Continue.

It’s done searching for other versions of Office. Good to know. Continue.

“No version of Office were found on this computer.” I assume it means that no previous versions of Office were found, since it just finished installing Office 2008. This is not a shocking revelation because, as you may remember, this is a brand new hard drive. Continue.

Um. Riiiight. Continue.

Ok. Successfully installed! The only step left is to…”run the Setup Assistant to complete the process”? What the fuck? Close.

The installer quits and the MS Updater launches. In a confidence-inspiring manner, the first thing it shows me is this:

Yikes. If it’s any consolation, I don’t understand the event sysodisA message either. Ok. (I don’t even want to think about clicking Edit.)

And finally:

More progress bars to finish up my Office installation. On the plus side, at least I had my Identity upgraded! And it only took 15 steps. Continue.

Obvious question: why use Office at all when iWork is so much better? One bone-chilling word: Entourage. We use Exchange for email at work and the only Exchange client for Mac is Entourage. If Apple ever gets their act together and offers full Exchange support in iCal, I will dump Office off my machine that very day.

So I went to Fry’s today with three goals: 1) pick up a USB gaming headset and 2) pickup the cymbal expansion set for Rock Band 2 and 3) pay and exit.

Step 1: Gaming headset

I go to the computer area and ask the guy behind the desk “Where are the gaming headsets?” He ignores me for a few moments, then when I ask him again he asks his coworker, who in turn asks his coworker. The last guy was able to point me in the right direction.

When I get to the headset aisle I have to dig through the pile of headsets on the floor next to the shelf to find what I needed. Picture a typical Ross clothing department and you have the right visual.

Step 2: Cymbal expansion pack for Rock Band 2

I go over to the gaming area and find an employee who looks like he works in the gaming area.

• Do you have the cymbal expansion set for Rock Band 2?
• Rock Band 2?
• Yes. The cymbal expansion set.
• You want to buy just the drums?
• No. I already have the drums. I’m looking for the expansion set — there is a set of three cymbals which plug into the drums.
• So you need the game?
• [blank stare]
• Let me ask my supervisor.

So now we are with a supervisor.

• Do you have the cymbal expansion set for Rock Band 2?
• We have Rock Band 2.
• Yes. But I’m looking for the expansion set — a set of cymbals that attaches to the drums.
• Umm…
• It’s not the full game. It’s an accessory to the game.
• We have Rock Band 1. [points to a RB1 box]
• Ok.
• We have Rock Band 2. [points to a RB2 box]
• Yup.
• We have Rock Band 3. [points to a Guitar Hero World Tour box]
• ….Uh-huh. You have Rock Band 3 already?
• Yes. [point to Guitar Hero World Tour box again]
• Can we check on the computer to see if you have the accessory I’m looking for?
• Sure.

She looks it up on the computer and finds nothing. I guess they don’t have it. As a side note: does anybody think it’s at all ironic that Fry’s, an electronics and computer store, uses DOS as their main operating system?

Step 3: Pay and Exit

I hand her the checkout lady my credit card.

• Can I see some ID?
• Sure.

She processes the card, but the debit card thing isn’t working so she tells me she’ll run it as a credit card. Fine. Whatever.

• Can I see some ID?
• It’s the same ID I just showed you. It’s also the same card you just ran.
• I just need to see your ID.

Short term memory fail.

As a rule, I never let them search my bag on the way out, and my trick is to either avoid eye contact or pretend to talk on my cell phone as I pass them.* This time I decided to go the other way and established eye contact early and held it all the way out the door. It was strangely cathartic.

In the end, two out of three goals were accomplished. So I guess I’d call that a successful trip to Fry’s.

* I don’t really have a cell phone, so I talk into my wallet as if it were a cell phone. Seems to do the trick.

The cord for my MacBook Pro is as old as the computer…around two years. Wear and tear decided to take its toll today and melted the connector. I didn’t take a photo (I should have) but here’s the general feeling:

Since my battery only lasts about 10 minutes now, I had no choice but to suck it up, take the power cord down to the Apple store, and buy a new one for $90. Boo.

When I got to the store, the orange shirt attacked me and told me that I’d have to make an appointment at the Genius Bar…probably around a 25 minute wait. I have nothing else to do…I’ll wait.

5 minutes go by and they are ready to help. They really cannot tell time. The guy takes a look at my cord, tells me it’s covered under the extended warranty, gives me a new one, and I walk out of the store without giving them any money.

Win.

• Are you also a Verizon customer?
• No.
• Well you could sign up for a family plan with your wife and pay less each month.
• How does that work?
• You get your own phone and phone number and it’s only an additional $10 each month.

I no math whiz, but I’m pretty sure that paying an additional $10 each month is not “less”. But what do I know.

It’s hard for me to even explain the extreme loathing I have for cell phone sales people. They work on commission so they will force more and more minutes and text message plans down your throat. How has the public not revolted over $20/month for unlimited text messages? Email is free. IM is free. How can they possibly believe that there is a monetary value to a text message, which is < 1k of data? Oh yeah, because people keep paying for it...that's why.

Really the only thing I want to buy when I enter a Verizon store is the opportunity to rip that bluetooth headset out of the asshole saleman’s ear in the most violent way I can think of.

PS: No, I don’t need a Rihanna ringtone, but thanks for asking.

I’m not really sure why I’d need a selection of farm animals as my default images in an email, but that seems to be what the Entourage team at Microsoft thought. Also, what the hell does “Object Palette” mean anyway?

Seriously, do these people not have meetings? Is there any common sense check? What the fuck is going on up there in Redmond?