Wednesday, August 17, 2011

PayPal Diatribe Number 2: or "Why I'll never be a Customer Service Representative"

OH EM GEE, people!!!

So, it's been days and I haven't received a letter with a code. Meanwhile, my lovely new blog is dangling in the nether regions of the interwebs.

Lovely Tricia sent me an email letting me know that PayPal contacted HER and let HER know that they are giving ME back my money. Luckily, she was nice enough to pass on the message, because PayPal apparently didn't think it was an important enough piece of information for them to, you know, tell me.

So I checked my account, and sure enough, my moolah is back, but my account is still limited access, so I can't do anything with the money that is rightfully mine.

At this point, I've absolutely had enough. I decided that I'm going to call the bastards and get some answers and get this shit settled. So I look for their contact information, and of course, they want you to use their written prompts to try and figure out your problem before you actually call a human. I make it through all that and find a phone number for customer service.

Now, folks, what does a customer service phone number start with? Usually 1-800 or 1-866, right? Do you think PayPal has a toll free customer service line?

Of course not.

1-402-935-2050. I had to call them long distance to solve a two week long dispute that THEY CAUSED. But, okay, fine, I'll call Nebraska for you fuckers. Anything at this point to just get access to my own damn money.

I called Nebraska, and of course had to go through five minutes of phone prompts and yelling "REPRESENTATIVE!!!" at increasingly louder decibel levels. (I was smart enough to leave work and go out to my car to make this phone call, because for some reason, I had an inkling that it might get a lil' rowdy.) And I finally. Finally. get a person.

Turns out that, yes, I do have my money back, and yes, there is a limitation, and yes, he can lift it during this simple phone call without me having to wait days for a pin number to show up. Oh, and why did the "dispute" happen in the first place?

He asked me if I had been travelling.

Nope, not recently.

Do you work in a different city from where you live?

Well, technically, yeah I do. Why does that matter to you? 

Did you access your PayPal account from a work computer?

Okay, Big Brother, I did, but don't tell my boss on me.

Aha! That's what caused your issue. I can take care of it for you right now.

Apparently, their smartie two shoes system saw that I logged in from a different city and went all "Danger, Will Robinson!!!" on them saying that I might not be who I said I am because I logged in from a location 30 miles from home. So take that, internets, you're supposed to be all "hey, connect from anywhere and be connected to anywhere all instantly and shit", but as it turns out, I'm only allowed to connect from home. Connecting from anywhere else obviously means my identity was stolen and someone is trying to steal minimal amounts of money from me.

Clearly, that's the case.

Now, Blogland Lovers, I *so* try to not go all bat shit crazy on Customer Service Representatives, because, hey, I know it's not your fault you work for the biggest douche canoe of a company known to man. But, duuuuuuuuuude. You all have no idea how hard it was for me to not scream at the poor guy.

I took a few deep breaths, tried my best to reign in the snarky, and "calmly" let him know the process that I wen through to get to this point. I told him all about the bait and switch email that said "oh, just change your password and all will be right with the world" when the actual process was something more akin to teaching an elephant to speak Chinese. In sign language.

I told him how I think it's re-donk-u-lous to require a land line in "this day and age." (yep, actually used that phrase. I'd like to be called Grandpa from now on, please.) And I told him that his company is not customer friendly and that the thousands of blog followers that I have all know about their evil-doings.

So I embellished a bit. Sue me. Or better yet, call me long distance from your land line and we'll hash it out.

At any rate, he lifted my dispute and I'm supposedly able to get back into my account and do whatever I want to do with my money. Thank you, PayPal, for the privilege of being able to access my own damn money. Douches.

But I'm not bitter...

1 comment:

Fat in Suburbia said...

I'm sorry but I am LOL reading this! Douche canoe. ROFLMAO! I needed a good laugh today. :)