Some years ago, my mother-in-law bought a new HP computer. She asked me to come down to Riverside and install her software on it, and move her documents and photos to it. I took my external drive and drove down, spending the afternoon installing the software and restoring the documents and photos. Everything worked, and she was thrilled.
The next day, about mid-afternoon, I get a panicked call from my mother-in-law. “IT’S GONE!” she screamed into the phone, “IT’S ALL GONE!”
“What’s gone? What happened?”, I asked urgently, fearing the worst.
“My programs…my photos….my documents! They’re all gone!”
A 45 minute conversation finally revealed that earlier this afternoon, she had changed her password and then taken a nap. On waking up from her nap, she couldn’t remember her password. Being unable to log in to her new computer, she called HP Technical Support, and some very helpful but mumbling and highly accented person somewhere in the Indian Subcontinent had walked her through the steps to reinitialize the operating system. The Tech support person never told her that she lose her newly installed software and data.
She was distraught.
I told her not to worry, I still had all her ‘stuff’ on my external drive, and I’d come put it back. She was very adamant about filing a ‘complaint’ with HP. I told her I would take care of it.
At the time, I was a consultant with HP. I was an ‘Internal Resource’. I had access to internal HP processes, and I initiated a complaint using the proper HP procedure. I spoke with probably 30 individuals, each of whom would cheerfully explain, in a sing-song accent, with many interestingly pronounced words, that I ‘simply didn’t understand the way a technical support call functions’. Usually, it was at this point that I would remind them that I was an HP Technical specialist and I’d ask to speak with their boss. Finally, I reached someone who spoke English, and who could understand what I needed to communicate.
First, I explained that ordinary people have a hard time understanding technical support delivered by fast talking people with thick foreign accents. Not being judgmental, it’s just a fact of life. Secondly, the tech support folks are delivering bad tech support. My mother-in-law should have been warned that her software and data would be lost if they reinitialized her system. Finally, I explained, HP will probably never sell another computer or printer in Riverside, New Jersey because my Mother-in-Law knew everyone in town, and being pissed, she just can’t stop telling the story, and it get’s ‘better’ every time she tells it. My contact assured me that he would make the ‘powers’ that be aware of this.
So, I called my mother-in-law, Elsa, to bring her up to date, to give her some closure. Have you ever had a stroke of inspiration? Just out of the blue, something leaps into your mind and it seems to be a really great idea? As she answered the phone, it happened to me.
“Hello”, Elsa said as she answered the phone.
“My name is Sahiminash. I am with HP Technical support. I understand you have had a veddy minor problem that has not been resolved to your happy satisfaction?”, I said in a heavily accented, sing-songy voice. And it began.
I coxed her to tell me the whole story again, nudging her on occasionally just to spin her up more and more. At every opportunity, I teased her just a bit to get her more and more angry. Finally, when I thought she was about to burst into flames, I interrupted her.
“May I put you on hold for a moment?”, I asked in my thick accent.
“What?” came the startled reply.
“May I put you on hold?, I repeated in my unimaginable accent.
“Yes”
I held the phone away from my face just a tad, and in my wonderful accent, said just loud enough for her to hear….”Shoot him”, pausing just a second, I slammed a book down on the counter creating a loud “Bang!”
“What did you say?”, she asked.
“I had him shot. SHOOT HIM AGAIN, HE MOVED!”, I replied. Once more, I slammed the book down and a loud ‘bang’ echoed through the room.
“WHAT?”, she screamed into the phone.
“I had him shot. Shall I shoot another one. RAMADAMA! SHOOT ANOTHER!”, I continued, and again the book slammed against the counter.
At this point my mother in law was losing her mind. It took some doing, but I finally calmed her down. She realized it was me, and somehow failing to see the humor in this, the cussing started.
It wasn’t until weeks later that I learned that when this was going on, her preacher was there having coffee with her.
Let’s just say Elsa never has appreciated the humor in this particular event.
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