Y'All Ain't Gon' Believe This Shit, Part Two

Before I get into the meat of this story: FUCK SPRINT. FUCK RADIO SHACK.

It's officially 12:37 p.m., and I've got no cellphone, thanks to the numbnuts at both companies.

Long story, made even longer: I went into Radio Shack yesterday to buy Sprint's new Touch phone, which is their answer to the iPhone. Pretty sweet-ass phone.

I arrive at Radio Shack around 7:30 p.m, Tuesday night. I pick out the phone, go through the paperwork, and it turns out I'm eligible for $75 off on this phone. Cool. I get rung up and have one foot out the door when Radio Shack sales clerk tells me we have a problem.

The proper eligibility code didn't ring up on their computer, which would allow me to receive the $75.

OK, I don't speak Radio Shack-ese, so I'm looking at him like he just said something in Swahili. Sales Clerk, a pudgy looking gay-ish guy, explains he must call Sprint and get the proper code so that I may be properly credited for this purchase.

45 minutes later -- no bullshit -- he thinks he's got the proper code. He doesn't. He calls back again. 45 minutes later -- which means I have now been in this fuck-ass store for damn near THREE HOURS trying to spend MY MONEY -- he basically doesn't know what the fuck to do.

Let me give you a little background about Sprint's customer service in case you don't know. It's shitty. This is the same company who announced a few months ago that customers who call and complain too much would have their contracts terminateD. Basically, they're on some miss-a-step-today, you'll-be-frying-fish tomorrow shit. Complain one extra time, and they're doing you like Suge Knight did Vanilla Ice.

At this point, I'm frustrated and pissed, but trying to remain somewhat professional. I don't want to give the white folks what they want, which is to see me go from Zero to Rashida. I'm trying to handle this like an adult, but still get across that this bullshit is acceptable.

I called Sprint myself. An hour later -- meaning I had now been in this store DAMN NEAR FOUR HOURS -- Sprint decides you know what? Fuck a code. We'll just send you the phone ourselves. They gave me some credit, upped my rebate and tried to somewhat makeup for the inconvenience. Although, the insulting part was, while I'm boiling about this bullshit, the ho' ass Sprint operator tried to sell me some shit. I'm like, BITCH, now ain't the time for you to be telling me about buying unlimited Internet access. If I had a fucking bomb, I'd plant that shit right at Sprint headquarters, and now you wanna talk to me about some trivial bullshit I can add for an extra $60 a month?

FUCK SPRINT.

At this point, FOUR HOURS LATER, I'm thinking the problem has basically been solved. Nuh-uh. Gay Pudgy Boy tries to switch me back on my original phone (the same phone I walked into the store with), and is finding that the "system" -- this ol' Coleco-bullshit-ass-Pac-Man-throwback computer they got up in Radio Shack -- isn't allowing them to. After another 45 minute phone call to Sprint -- WE'RE ON FIVE FUCKING HOURS NOW -- it's determined that ain't shit gon' happen. I had to leave my phone at Radio Shack, and basically deal with that shit the next day.

Now, the next day is here, I still don't have a fucking phone. My account is showing I purchased two phones, which is completely incorrect. You would think in situations like these muahfuckas at Radio Shack are trying to offer me new DVD players, a free subscription to Maxim, some Kleenex, some Now-Laters -- just something that would make me feel better about having wasted about nine hours of my life trying to get a phone from their punk ass store. Nuh-uh.

Well, Sprint and Radio Shack, I'm well past a Rashida-level of anger. I'm officially on some shit with a prefix and an apostrophe, a La' Princia or some shit. I'm on some, where the fuck is my blade? I'm on some, it ain't nothing between but space and opportunity. I'm on some, whip dat ass like Ike did Tina when she didn't hit that note right in the second verse.

FUCK SPRINT.
FUCK RADIO SHACK.

Sprint To Customer: We Can Get Into Some Gangsta Ish

I've been a Sprint customer for nearly 10 years. If I had to describe my relationship with them, I would say Sprint is like that boyfriend that does a few sweet things to keep you, but just not enough for you to actually consider him a good boyfriend.

So this absolutely doesn't surprise me. Let me throw a scenario at you: Say Sprint is your company. Say your customers begin to complain that you have woefully, shitty customer service. What do you do?:

A) Revamp customer service so that it's more beneficial for your customer

B) Re-route your customer service through Indonesia so that if people do complain about it, you'll never find out about it.

C) Tell the customer to f**k off

Most of us would probably choose A because we're decent Americans who posess a heart and a modicum of responsibility. Sprint, my friends, chose C.

For years, Sprint has been lambasted for its customer service, which I admit is rough around the edges. Their customers have complained about the long wait times with customer service. Me, I NEVER call Sprint during normal business hours because I don't have two hours of my life to waste on the phone with them. I'll call at midnight or later. (And as a side note: If you ever want to amuse yourself, drunk dial Sprint. You actually don't mind their terrible customer service then.)

Anyway, instead of correcting their shitty-ass customer service, Sprint has decided to drop customers who irritate them. No, I didn't make that up. They are cancelling the accounts of customers who call them too much.

Read that again: THEY ARE CANCELLING THE ACCOUNTS OF PEOPLE WHO CALL THEM TOO MUCH.

Ain't dat 'bout a bitch?

Until this, I thought no company could be more terrible than Northwest Airlines, who has traumatized me on several different occasions because they fail to treat their customers like dignified human beings.

But it takes some real nerve to tell your customers that if you call us one mo' gin, you can kiss those 1,000 minutes a month goodbye. I mean, what kind of shit is that? How exactly will Sprint define "calling too much?" Am I allowed three calls a week? Two calls a month? If my phone starts acting up or I notice a discrepency on my bill, then I guess I just better STFU because Sprint might cancel my account. And considering Sprint's customer service people treat you like indentured servants, my guess is that they won't have much tact in terminating your account. I could see the kiss-off call going something like this:

Customer: Hello?

Sprint: Hey, bitch. Don't call us no more.

Click.

As Will Smith said in Bad Boys 2, "that's that bullshit." Whatever happened to the "customer is always right" mantra? Whatever happened to taking some responsibility when you're company is messing up?

This took some real balls. Sprint to Customer: We can handle this like gentlemen, or we can get into some gangsta shit.