How many times have you spoken these very words into a phone at work while some clueless, loathsome primate bellowed irrational demands from the other end of the line? Hmmm? Yes, you! - Admit it! In fact, you're already quite aware of the negative effects that this "customer service" side of you has upon your tortured psyche. Your significant other has noticed it, as have most of your friends. Intoxicants offer only temporary relief; sober mornings find you before the mirror mumbling, "I gotta quit that stupid fucking job . . . . . " Yes, you do need to quit that stupid job. But then what? An endless succession of unchallenging forays into the dismal worlds of beer delivery, hired servitude and nightmare office temp work? All with ludicrous pay and the attendant stress of "the money squeeze"? Not very appetizing! So what's a young(ish) tech to do? Well, if you gotta keep that lousy job, you can make the best of it. I've decided to start treating all those twits at work the same way I'd treat them in the street: I humor them until I can humor them no longer. Then, I smirk. As a few of you know, I'm a TV tech (and a damn good one!) and I have some tales to tell you about the farce know as the "service industry". First off, I'd like to say that I'm one helluva nice guy. Ask anyone who knows me; you'll discover I'm cordial, thoughtful, fair, funny and smart. Pretty much. So it might seem odd that I would drop this deeply-held sense of citizenship when confronted by a nice little grandma who "just can't work that little clicker very good". But drop it I do, and with breathtaking results. Look around in this website (www.auricular.com) and you'll discover a glittery treasure trove of sordid tales from the desks of harried professional technicians. It's called "Tech Support Tales" and it represents some of the most cathartic writing in human history. I strongly recommend it; yea, even unto non-technicians, so that all who read may learn. Chances are, most of you have dealt with technicians at some time or another. Chances are, you felt violated by the steep labor charges and dissatisfied with the speed of service. I understand; I own a Japanese vehicle. What goes around, comes around, and I have learned this lesson well. I no longer wince when the grumpy mechanic hands me a $600 estimate to fix a leaky gasket and install a new heater core. I no longer roll my eyes when the doctor's perfumed secretary blithely tosses a $230 fee in my face to cover five minutes of chest thumps and a cortisone prescription. I no longer curse and spit when I'm stuck in a coffee line behind umpteen robotic yupsters ordering triple skinny decaf cafe mochas with whipped cream. In fact, when scruffy runaways harrass me for "spare change", I hardly lift one eyebrow hair 3 degrees northward! Because I'm the TV guy, and I'm waiting . . . . "Hey, Mr. TV man! I bought this here San-Yo TV a couple months ago and the piece of shit is busted! I need it fixed today, so could you check it out for me?" "Why sure, sir. Do you have your receipt?" "What? Fuck! I think I - " A stern, evil stare beams from my eyes into the subject's thick orb sockets. "Yes. You need a reciept. Sir. Otherwise, you'll have to pay for the repair." "Oh. Here it is. I found my receipt." I check the date. The TV was purchased seventeen months ago. His warrantee is gone. Completely. Null and void. It is at this point that I have consolidated all my power. I am golden. "Well, sir, it seems your TV is out of warrantee. Let me explain our labor rates . . ." "WHAAAAAT?!!! I GOTTA PAY FOR DIS?!!!" I was expecting this. I show no fear. "That's right. See here -- 90 days labor, one year parts. I'm afraid you're on your own." These are carefully chosen words. They are produced in order to entice the subject to consider blathering elsewhere, perhaps at the retail store or manufacturer. They also induce a sense of fear and trepidation in the subject, causing him/her to become increasingly frenzied. "WELL I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE IT! This damn TV set is just a -" "Well, tell me, what's wrong with your TV? What's it not doing right?" The subject immediately becomes more lucid. I own their mind. "Well, ya see, I was watching "Blossom". . . umm, I mean "Seinfeld" when all of a sudden the thing just crapped out! Let's see, well, my sister-in-law was over, and she usually comes by around 8:30, but she didn't have to pick up her kid so I guess she came around 8, and then we ate some pizza and we were watching . . . something . . . yeah. Then "Seinfeld" came on and it just went out." Do I care? Of course not. Was it annoying? Yes. But I didn't even blink an eye. These were important clues in the detective work of a trained technician. I had already learned a lot about this upcoming repair:
This is important. It gives the subject the false impression that they are in control while giving me a chance to elongate turnaround time by several crucial days. By the time the primitive subject gets around to calling back an approval, parts orders would be stymied and I'd have moved on to greener repairs. Confusion amongst the harried front office tends to slow things even further. So now, the job I'm paid to do: technicianing! Upon inspection, I discover some nasty corrosion damage on the front edge of the main printed circuit board, around the microprocessor IC. Visual and olfactory inspections point to beer being spilled or splattered onto the face of the tube, dripping through the channel/volume keys and pooling onto the printed circuit board. Whatever warantee they once might have claimed would be dissolved at this point. But, ah, that is all academic now! I produce a precision metal brush and begin to carefully shovel away all the accumulated grit and gloop from the micro. Once the printed circuit is clean, I begin to hard-wire some of the more rusted and ruined traces on the board. I give it a go. Nothing. With a mighty sigh I grab the manual and my scope and begin to trace from the "power" key, through the micro and beyond. Thirty minutes later, I have my culprit: A shorted 12-volt regulator. Too bad! This repair has just officially exceeded the fifty dollar limit. Parts, labor, tax: we're looking at $127.65! Ouch! That's gotta hurt! I try a new regulator and the sets runs fine. The only thing wrong with it is the mindless dreck it displays when tuned to any channel. Daytime TV: Lair of the Wayward Souls. I remove the regulator, re-install the crappy one and tape the new part to the TV. The paperwork is then dashed off to the front office where it languishes for days. Since our oafish cheapskate know-it-all subject refused to OK a lousy $89 estimate, his repair has now become a tangled nightmare. In the interim, I fix other sets and share in some engaging phone conversations with the "common folk":
Me: "E-lectronic Service! Can I help you?" and:
Me: "E-lectronic Service! Can I help you?" I could go on. Instead, I'll simply leave it to your imagination the endless man-hours wasted by paying attention to that jabbering horde of consumerist insects known collectively as the "buying public". A little side note: It is now common for Americans to purchase enormous TV sets -- sets with 35-inch screens weighing 300 pounds; projection TV's with sixty-inches of diagonal viewing! All at a price tag in the $2,000 to $5,000 range. Think about this. People will pay $3,000 to watch television. Tell me, o' denizens of the internet, what television program is worth $3,000 to look at? Hmmm? Even if I was bloody stinking filthy libertine fabulously rich and wealthy, I would never spend more that $200 for any TV, anywhere. Do yourself a favor, folks: You want a new TV? Scan the want ads. An ugly, hulking RCA from 1987 is just as dependable as that $1,100 Sony in the showroom. Take the money you save and buy ISDN or a mountain bike or a kayak or a big, giant bag of marijuana. Just don't waste it on "Montel Williams" reruns. OK? So anyway, our subject's TV continues to languish in the shop. Repeated calls to his house result in messages left on his machine. The announcements on his machine are performed by his 3-year-old daughter, resulting in a decreased propensity for anyone to call back, ever. A week goes by. No response. Ten days later, our subject explodes into the company phone, demanding to speak to the technician. This was expected. "Where's my goddam TV, huh? What are you, some kind of incompetent? What's the hold-up? Geez, my kids are going CRAZY without the TV!" "I'm sorry, sir. Is this the only TV in your house?" "No. I mean . . . what's wrong with my TV? Is it fixed?" "Well, sir, you had only approved fifty dollars on your estimate. Unfortunately, we discovered multiple problems in your TV and had to revise your estimate." "Well, shit! Why didn't you CALL me!" "We did, sir. On May 6 at 11:15 am. On May 6 at 4:15 pm. On May 7 at 3:35 pm. On May 9 at 1:20 pm. On May 10 at 5:15 pm and again on May 12 at 4:50 pm." "Well, geez, I WORK for a living, you know! I can't just waste my time making calls and shit! So anyway, what's wrong with the TV?" "Well, sir, I found some extensive liquid damage on your main PC board." "What? What'sat mean?" "It means some kind of liquid spilled into your TV and wrecked a bunch of stuff." "IMPOSSIBLE!!! What did you do to my TV?!!" "Sir, I couldn't fake liquid damage if I tried. I'll be happy to show you the rust spots on your board, indicating that the damage occured many weeks ago. At any rate, your TV needs a new regulator. The revised estimate, bottom line, is $127.65." "For WHAT? To have some incompetent ruin my TV? I'm reporting you to the Better Business Bureau! I'll sue your ass!" I am golden. Where others might shake in fear and rage, I remain as cool as a Hindu in the Ganges. I am TV man. Without me, you are nothing. Seinfeld is nothing. CNN is nothing. MTV does not exist. I am your God. And you have angered me. "Sir, listen to me for a moment, OK? For one, we are dues-paying members of the BBB. We welcome your call to their offices. For another, I'll welcome the chance to demonstrate my position before a court if that is your wish. I think a judge would be interested to hear experts back up my diagnosis and handling of your repair, not to mention your irresponsibility in failing to return documented phone calls. And let's not forget the fact that until we receive $127.65 for your TV, it will remain in our possession as a mechanic's lien and, if actioned, it will remain in our possession until all court proceedings are finalized. And let us not forget your kids. Day after day, night after night, with no TV. So, this your call, OK? Do you want to continue with this crap or do you want your TV back in your home? Your call. Sir." A still, muffly silence drifts from his end of the phone. Then, in a gutteral tone, "I'll pick it up in twenty minutes (click!)" Now, some of you might be thinking "Geez! This TV guy's cruel! I knew TV shops were rip-offs! I'm never going to one again!" Fear not, my beloved fellow beings. For in truth, every customer that enters my shop and treats the staff with the slightest inkling of respect will be reimbursed for such kindness ten-fold. As a salaried employee, I make no commission on repairs. All customers who behave like thoughtful beings receive lightning-fast service and a hefty break on labor. It's not uncommon for me to charge $69 for four hours of labor on a difficult TV, solely because the client demonstrated his/her high standing on the food chain. In fact, I've gotten a reputation as the best tech in town mostly by providing top-notch service to the folks that matter: those who, through their honesty and wit, convey to others an opinion to be esteemed. Fact is, no one listens to the brash opinions of louts. Just ask any lout.
So, my friends, next time your TV craps out, ask yourselves these questions:
"Is what I watch on TV worth the cost of a new set?" The answers: "No", "Yes", and "ask around, then read article above". Goodbye for now, fellow viewers. Feel free to email me with any TV questions. And please, put down the remote and crack a book, will ya?
contact the author via email: hamster@nas.com |
"Yeah, right. OK. Absolutely. Will do. Yeah, you're right; I'm sorry. Sure
enough. OK. Thanx. Mmmmhmm. Have a nice day. Bye."