How Bell Canada Committed Feline Murder

Dear Customer Service,

I am writing to you to inform you of the death of my poor little cat Mittens. Her untimely death, was a direct result of your lack of customer support, or better, the complete disregard of the Geneva Convention.

The reason I wasn’t able to write to you sooner, was because I found myself in a High Speed Internet induced stupor, made available by your competitor, Rogers. The Internet is so awesome, I couldn’t be bothered to contact your Victim Service earlier, simply because it is the mental equivalent of running headfirst into a concrete wall with sharp stuff glued unto it.

I am fully aware that only action Bell will take after reading this e-mail, is to print it out and fold a hat out of it.

In that case, please make it a Pirate hat, because Pirates are neat-o.

Here is what happened:

Last October I won a house in an illegal Chinese Casino. It was a close call, but I made it on the River. (AAAKJ) My girlfriend was very relieved because she didn’t feel like working off my debt sewing soccer balls for the next 25 months. Now, to me, a house is merely a place where I can play videogames and not get cold, so it was useless to me until I got an Internet Connection. The choice of Service Providers was a little overwhelming, so I flipped a coin and it landed on Bell. Please note, that I have since melted this coin and reshaped it into a monkey for being such an idiot.

Since I haven’t been defiled by your business ethics before, I went to one of your stores, thinking; “This is gonna be sweet, I’ll have The Internet soon!” Little did I know that every store employee are actually Demons from the Seventh Circle of Hell, dressed up like Perky Consultants. They sure had me fooled!

One of the employees that sunk her claws in me the quickest was “Lydio” (I have scrambled her name a little, so the wench cannot come after me). She was all friendly and nice, and getting me on the Internet was apparently her life calling! However, I somehow DARED to deviate from her stupid little script and that is when all hell broke loose. The matter at hand was, my new Chinese House was not in my name yet. I wasn’t able to move in for another 6 weeks, so I had to order the Internet…in ADVANCE!

This was a little bit too much to handle for Lydio and she had to call the head office, insuring me, it wasn’t going to be a problem. Now, I am not sure if she actually called the head office, because there was a lot of screaming and awkward silences. Maybe you should train your Banshees at the main office to learn the difference between regular victims and your own minions.

Buttons were pushed and forms were filled in when Lydio informed me of the following:

Yeah, we THINK your order is put in, but it doesn’t show in the system, but if you come back another time, we can check if it went through overnight. This made complete sense to me, because everybody knows computers are generally slackers and leave shit on their desk for the next day.

I asked if it didn’t work, if I could still be eligible for the discount that Bell was offering and would expire the next day. I was guaranteed I would be and Lydio even made a note of it on a random piece of paper she found laying around somewhere. I went home thinking “Wow, those Bell guys really know how to run shop”.

I spend the next few days working on the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland, so time flew by really fast. (One of the perks of Time Travel I guess). I walked back into the Bell Store and asked for Lydio.

She was in hiding…

Now, when I told the overly blonde clerk that Lydio had all my forms filled in and that the only thing she needed to do was to check in the computer if my order went through, her brain short circuited and all she could tell me was “You’ll have to ask Lydio”.

Of course ,one of my favorite things to do is to take a detour after work and walk into your store to answer rhetorical questions from your employees, so I had no trouble waiting another few days for Lydio to return.

I finally managed to trick Lydio to show herself by calling her name three times in a mirror at midnight and I was ready to hear her story.

She didn’t recognize me…

She also was unable to find my name in the system or find her own handwritten note in her “Office”.

The only option she had for me, was to restart the whole process, but without the discount, because that had expired. I think she got a little offended when I asked if she could somehow get me a discount anyway. Little did I know only the Dungeon Master of Bell has that authority, and he is way too busy slaughtering Unicorns.

I politely told Lydio that I was no longer interested in her services and I would look elsewhere to get myself an Internet Connection. Walking back to the car, I secretly hoped she would trip on her way out and accidentally swallow a cactus.

Since I can only endure so much stupidity a month, I decided to hold back on my Internet until I actually took ownership of my new Chinese House. I also needed to recuperate and planned a Holiday to The Motherland.

Finally the house was mine and I was getting prepared for a good relaxing trip home. Images of Lydio were starting to fade and I was content stealing WiFi from my neighbor for the time being. On one of my last days of work, I receive a phone call from Bell that their Mechanic is at my house to install the modem and I had 10 minutes to show up or I would have to pay a fee.

Now let me recap that for you:

• I order the Internet

• My order gets lost

• Lydio is an Idiot

• I have to pay a fee

Now, before you go “Yes, that makes complete sense, what is your problem?” Please try to at least IMAGINE having a shred of logic in your entire being.

Knowing that there would be no way in Hell I could convince you that this fee would be unjustified I called my father in law to come to my house and let the mechanic in. He fortunately got there in time and installed the Modem. However, the signal wasn’t satisfying, so the mechanic had to “do something” in the “thingy” and promised to be back in 5 minutes, leaving my father in law alone in an empty house.

What you probably don’t realize is that the town I live in has one of the densest populations of Ninjas in Canada. A 60 year old man, by himself in an empty house in a town full of Ninjas is like throwing a crying baby into a nest of drunk Wolverines. (I’m not talking the animals, I’m talking X-men). The poor guy had to fight off hordes of Shadow Assassins with nothing more than a coat hanger and a roll of biscuits…FOR TWO HOURS!

Your mechanic never came back.

Now if your mechanic was also attacked by Ninjas and didn’t make it, he is hereby forgiven, but since I am sure your company has close ties to the Underworld they were probably in on the whole ordeal. When I came home later that night (stepping over piles of Dead Ninjas) I found a modem that seemed to be working. This came as a complete surprise, because at this point I expected that even your hardware would be corrupt. Turning on my computer, it asked me for a Bell Password, that the Mechanic was supposed to leave behind. Now, here are the options of what could possibly have happened:

A: The Mechanic did his job and I finally got to enjoy the Internet

B: No password anywhere and the Service Desk closed 5 minutes ago

C: Me turning into a Supernova of all consuming RAGE!

D: Both B & C are true

First thing in the morning, I call the service desk and ask for my password.

My name is not on file… I should go to the store.

I go to the store and I am met with disbelieve that I somehow managed to get my hands on a working modem. However, getting a password still appears to be quite the feat. Lydio isn’t in that day, but she will call me the next day. Using a phone is too hard for your store minions so I take another detour to the store.

The store is filled with either unknowing victims or people who are looking to devour Lydio’s soul as well.

Having to wait, I move over to the complimentary internet booth to look at pictures of kittens and puppies to get sooth the pure rage pumping through my veins. This is when one of the other Chupacabras in a Bell Uniform turns to me and informs me that the Internet Booth is for Customers Only.

I couldn't suppress a twitch as that comment completely severs the left hemisphere of my brain from the right.

Had I been overexposed to Gamma Radiation as a child, Ottawa would have been in the papers the next day, trying to cope with what happened to the City.

Fortunately, I am a gentleman (and a scholar) and I explain that I have been trying for the last 6 weeks to become a customer, but that the Rabid Bell Baboons are unable to perform the simplest of tasks.

She told me I would have to talk to Lydio…

I walked out of the store to go and swim in the river to cool myself down a little bit (We are in January) and I would call again in the morning.

This time, I got to talk to Lydio right away and she told me that “There is nothing we can do for you in the store, you have to call the Head Office”. At this point I started drooling a little bit and have to wear a helmet ever since. I also created a strong craving for eating applesauce out of a jar.

Being no longer able to deal with this myself anymore, I decided to try one more thing and have someone else talk some sense into Lydio. I watch from the food court how my liaison walks into The Fiery Pits of Bell and wait for his return.

He comes back smiling…

“Lydio asked if you could stop harassing her with phone calls and visits”…
Lydio was lucky that day that the only projectile I had access to in my direct vicinity was my Hamburger and it happened to be too delicious to waste or she would be picking pickles out of her nostrils for a week.

Now I realize that the act of me coming to the Store begging for her to take my money for her service, probably brought her back to the days she was working the pole to support her crack cocaine habit, but let’s be honest, how hard does one have to try to give you guys money?

I walked over to the Rogers Store, ordered the Internet and it was working the next day. And that is exactly why my cat died.

Rogers Internet works so well, that I streamed a scary movie to my Playstation. During one scary scene I got startled so bad to I kicked my Super Strong Bionic leg out at the exact moment my cat walked by. She went straight through the wall.

If you would have just allowed me to use your shitty service, a whole chain of events would have turned out completely different and my cat would not be there at that exact time.

Not only are you responsible for my poor little mittens, but now I also have a cat shaped hole in my drywall.

As you can imagine, I am not amused

-Dave Stevens

How my new haircut from Joseph's killed my cat

Dear Management,

Please let me steal your life savings

When I stepped into your salon last Saturday, little did I know that my new haircut would cause the death of my poor cat, little Mittens.
I am writing to you to make sure that Josephs knows that her death is a direct result of the `service` you provide.

Both PETA and the organisation “Convicts 4 Kittenz” will be CC’ed on this letter.

As mentioned before, last Saturday I was forced to get a new haircut. This was clearly not my choice because I was in the middle of playing videogames and being an awesome manchild. However, since I was planning on getting drunk later that night, I figured it might come in useful or at least prevent me from getting stuck in an oak tree and getting stabbed in the heart with three javelins. ( 2 Samuel 18:9 – 18:14).

Now, when I am in need of a haircut, I go to any random hairsalon and see if they have a seat. Usually they do, but if they say “No sir, you would have to make an appointment and see us again in 249 hours” then I go somewhere else. Either way, where ever I end up, it is usually a very pleasant experience with rainbows and strawberry flavoured scissors. My favourite part is where I get the washing massage,  ecause I pretend to be a Roman Emperor who is getting serviced by one of his many enslaved servants. It must be that Toga thing that you insist I wear. So, basically, you make me feel like a tyrant, and I like it.

Now, because I like to live on the edge, I put off getting my hair cut to almost literally the very last minute. With only 3 hours left until the engagement party I was planning to attend, I finally managed to put down my PS3 controller and drag myself to my cellphone to call and make an appointment.
I ended up calling your shop in the St Laurent shopping Mall and after speaking to a  girl who didn’t really know a lot, we finally came to the conclusion that there was in fact, no spot for me to get my haircut on such “short notice”. I was slightly offended  by her choice of words, since my dwarfism is not something to joke about.  My lawyer says I shouldn’t make a Big deal out of it though.
After some yelling and crying, I managed to get some useful information out of the girl though, she told me there is another shop at the Rideau Center, which was conveniently close to the party I was to attend later on, so that would give me at least another 20 minutes of videogame time,..or a shower, I’m not sure which one I picked.
Either way, I somehow managed to make it to my appointment in time.

Now, from the outside, your salon looks like any other hairsalon out there and this is probably a well planned part of the horrible scheme you are running. Obnoxious music, over the top advertisement and hairproducts that are no doubt made from the souls of orphaned baby seals.

Now, I actually had to wait for 7 minutes and I can tell you, those were most likely the most dreadful 7 minutes of my day. Although I am willing to blame you personally for this, unfortunately, it is an industry wide abomination. But since we are communicating anyway, perhaps you can explain it to me.

Why does EVERY hair salon in the Galaxy only have girl magazines in their waiting area?  I’ll summarize for you why this is a stupid decision and will eventually lead to harm of innocent bystanders.

1.       There are men who are being forced to get their hair cut

2.       You provide this service

3.       Men will eventually show up at your shop

4.       Keeping a time table is not your forte

5.       Men are forced to wait

6.       There are only excruciatingly boring girl magazines in the waiting area

7.       Men get bored

8.       Men are surrounded by sharp object e.g. scissors & razor blades

9.       Target Practice in case the Zombie Apocalypse comes

10.     Harm to innocent bystanders

Maybe you can bring this up at the next world wide Hairsalon owners meeting.

 Now, what you do not realize is that you made me relapse into my Angry Birds Addiction and I was doing so well for the last 3 days. I will have to bring this up at my next ABAA meeting and yes, I I will point fingers in your direction. (Just in case, i will point all 10 fingers, because i once heard that if you point 1 finger at something, 3 will point back at yourself and i think it is clear that i am a victim in this and not an aggressor).

When I was finally picked up by one of your servants, (Did you know that in ancient Rome, most hairsalons were entirely run by Slaves? Maybe that is where the Toga’s come from) she put me down in a chair and immediately started to ask me questions as if she didn’t know how to do her job. Sorry, I didn’t know I needed a degree into hair cutting just to communicate that my hair needs to look good again. Her mood immediately changed into “Axe Murderer” and this was slightly unnerving since she is in control of all the sharp pointy tools on her work bench.
She took out this build up aggression by doing a thorough razorjob on my 7^th degree sunburned neck,  inflicting so much damage that I will most likely have to have it amputated.
Now, because I fear retaliated from “Axe Murderer” for the sake of my safety, I’ll say that the final result of my haircut was appealing.

What was not appealing was the realization that this whole ordeal was simply a scam to make me poor. At the cashier, I was asked to pay a lump sum of $50 for my haircut. Let me spell this out for you, because that is what the lady at the cash had to do for me as well.

F-i-f-t-y – D-o-l-l-a-r.

For a men’s haircut...

This haircut took less than 20 minutes to apply to my head. In case you are not a mathematician, that comes down to $150 dollar an hour for the service you provide.
For a men's haircut.

In case you are blatantly missing my point here, here is a list of other things that cost approx $150 dollar an hour.

* Having Tea with the Queen of England
* Getting a Dragon Tattoo in the FACE
* Racing a Ferrari
* Flying a Helicopter
* Roaming services from Bell Canada

Unfortunatley, you trained your servants well to be completely void of remorse of this scam you are running and since I couldn’t give my hair back, I was forced to make this payment. I know I should have ran home and cry, but to add insult to injury I was able to hear what you charged the woman behind me for HER haircut.

This haircut however, took approximately an hour and a half and involved all kinds of technology.
She was charged $50 dollar as well!

I am curious to know how this system works! Do you charge for time, resources or just a flat service? It is obviously not time, since according to the afore mentioned math, this lady should have paid $225 dollar for her haircut. It doesn’t make sense.

Since I consider myself an expert in getting my haircut and have a lot of experience in this, I will share the following graph with you. It shows you the pricing of haircuts over the last 29 years of men haircuts vs women haircuts.




Only the end of the world can stop outrageous pricing

 

The math doesn’t lie sir.


So, I ended up paying, spending at LEAST $30 dollars more than anticipated, leaving me with not enough money to buy cat food.
When I came back from work yesterday afternoon, I found my cat behind the couch in a mummified state, she died of hunger.
This obviously wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t overcharge for men haircuts.

Poor Mittens

As you can imagine, I am not amused.

-Dave Stevens

Flying West Jet Killed my cat!



YOU SHALL NOT PASS!



Dear customer service,



When looking for a contact form on your website, i came across your Secret Weapon which i have named Bertha the Discouraging Bear Lady. Her whole body language sends out a message of "HA! you thought you we're going to get service, but guess what SIR!, i am the Gatekeeper here and i will prevent you from sending mean e-mails by standing here with my arms crossed!" I find this very intimidating and emasculating.

Besides being able to strike fear in me, the customer, she also seems to have magical powers that prevent me to navigate from the FAQ site to the FEEDBACK button.

Whenever i click that link, Bertha the Discouraging Bear Lady bitchslaps me straight back to the FAQ site and smiles at me as if nothing happened. After being slapped around like this for 29 times, i have given up and had to browse the Internet to find alternative contact information. During my search, i came across the several websites that have inflicted severe harm to my retinas. One of them was rather pleasant though, it had an Otter on it and he looked really happy.

BUT!

The reason i had to go through this self mutilation that you call customer service is that i have been horribly traumatized by one of your flights from Toronto to Ottawa on May 26th, 2011. First of all, the flight had a 20 minute delay, which in today's day and age of ADD and high speed Internet is equivalent of missing a transatlantic boat back into 1912. This delay has caused me to relapse into my Angry Birds addiction and i was doing so well for the last 3 days. I will have to bring this up at my next ABAA meeting and yes, i will point fingers in your direction. (Just in case, i will point all 10 fingers, because i once heard that if you point 1 finger at something, 3 will point back at yourself and i think it is clear that i am a victim in this and not an aggressor).

So after waiting for 20 dreadful minutes i was finally allowed to stand in line to find my reserved spot in your flying carriage of death. Unfortunately for my highly developed sense of smell, ( 4.8 times as sensitive as the sense of smell of an Albatross,..google it) the gentlemen in front of me had used the extra 20 minutes granted by Westjet to build up an extra potent supply of body odor, and he was more than willing to share this with me.

After using all my willpower to not pass out, i finally made it to my "seat". These "seats" as you call it must have been designed somewhere duringe the middle ages, when the average height of a human being was about 5'3 (peasants, not nobility). Considering my near-fatal knee injury from last December, i choose an isle seat so it would leave me some extra leg space in the isle, but it would soon prove to be an unforgivable mistake on my behalf.

As the drunk pilot (this is an assumption,but i doubt a sober pilot would honk at other planes while mooning a competing airline) got me and the other victims, except for Body Odor guy, he deserves no justice, on the runway, the nightmare really started. After speeding up to what is most likely a traffic offense in most provinces, the engines roared and than turned silent again. Now, i have no deep understanding of Aviation, HOWEVER, i do believe that engines should not shut down during a take off. Of course, the pilot immediately downplayed this "incident" as a precaution and said there was a technical anomaly in the electrical circuit. This announcement was made as if anomalies are a frequent occurrence and we, the victims, should just find peace in this casually made remark.

At this point i would like to point out, that some of your clients (i.e. me) might have a problem with technical anomalies. The last time i was face-to-face with a technical anomaly was when i was fighting the Japanese on a spit of land in the Pacific. After a gruesome night of disfigurements and loss of limbs, i was finally in position to capture the flag of the enemy team, when a server message came up that the Playstation Network was shutting down to a technical anomaly in their software. This "technical anomaly" lasted for 23 days and deprived me of my one and only source of both entertainment and relaxation. This experience had me wounded on a deeply personal level and i do not take kindly to "technical anomalies" anymore.

SO, after waiting a full hour in a mucky, dark, hostile environment, the pilot almost literally said: "Well suckers, although our circuits are fried, we are just going to attempt to make it to Ottawa with some paperclips and a rubber band, we do this all the time, so don't worry" Then we immediately took off so the victims had no chance to escape from what seemed to be an inevitable death by crashing into a pit of Lava that would conveniently be there.

During this flight, i also had to move my aforementioned gravely injured knee out of the way of the flight attendents battering beer ram, to avoid full scale amputation by brute force.

After my two hour delay, i came home to find my cat in a mummified state which clearly wouldn't have happened if i would have made it home in time.

(See attachment for 100% trustworthy proof of this)

Mittens did not want to play anymore

As you can imagine, i am not amused.

-Dave Stevens

p.s.

Please don't send Bertha the Discouraging Bear Lady to my house, unless you are willing to pay for kung-fu lessons first.