misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

I've had about enough of big corporations fucking the shit out of my bank account so hard they leave semen stains all over my twenties. This past Wednesday, I had one more in a seemingly endless stream of face to face encounters with corporate greed so shameless Enron would be jealous. Sprint Nextel was the name, but you can insert any corporate fuck you want into that space. Your gas is expensive so the four-hundred executives at Chevron can own homes for every season. But even they only tag on a few extra cents to each gallon of gas, which makes them look like virginal girl scouts made of ice cream next to Sprint Nextel.

I'll keep this as brief as possible, as you've all had the same experience.

My two year contract with Sprint expired on July 1st.

I go to the local Sprint store to purchase a new phone and renew my contract. I am hoping to parlay the $150 credit they provide after two years of being a customer into a cheap phone purchase. I pick the phone I want, which is the one with so many features that "making phone calls" is like the 89th listed benefit of the phone. Essentially, with this phone I can talk to Winston Churchill, make turkey meatloaf, and film feature-length movies. At a listed price of $149, I figure I can use my $150 credit, and walk away with a bad-ass phone for the cost of nothing.

Of course, because Sprint is a corporation, and a corporation's entire goal is to rape your financial anus with their fist, I was hardly suprised when the teller rang up a total of $167.45. I calmly inquired into the source of the misunderstanding. The explanation for the added cost? Well, the phone actually is $299. The listed price already includes the $150 dollar credit. I don't really follow, but don't really say much, as I know resistance is futile, because, as we've established, Sprint enjoys tricking the consumer. Essentially, the $150 credit you get every two years as a Sprint customer applies to anyone and everyone on the earth, as long as you sign a new contract. So it is already included in the cost of the phone. So the listed price of $149 is what I owe.

Ok, whatever. Just give me the fucking phone, here is my debit card, slide it through your rape machine, and let me get the hell out of here. I'm in no mood to argue with corporate America at this point. I entered the store expecting a certain amount of shit, and this is it.

But wait, he says.

What, I inquire.

There's also a $35 dollar "re-activation" fee, he informs me.

Well, now we have a problem. I've been a Sprint PCS customer since 1999. So what exactly are you "re-activating"? And, for the record, I write the language in advertisements for a living, so I can 100% confirm the word "re-activation" means absolutely nothing. And costs even less. In advertising, "re-activation" is what I refer to as a "ghost" word. It sounds like it should be something, but when you look, nothing is actually there. It is a word created by marketing people so they can charge $35 dollars to dimwits like myself. Nothing actually occurs for the cost of that $35. But I feel warm inside, because something was "re-activated". And activity is good. So, I decide to allow it. Again, I am well-aware that arguing will simply take my time and not lower the price.

Well, then, I say. Go ahead and "re-activate" my account. And, while you are at it, turn on my phone, make it work, give it to me, and I'll be on my way.

But wait, he says.

What, I inquire.

Do you want to transfer the address book of your old phone onto your new phone?

Yes, I answer.

Ok, 15 dollars, he says.

Oh, he adds, there is only a 50% chance it will work.

And if it doesn't, I ask. Do I get my 15 dollars back?

No, he replies. We'll print out your address book for you.

So, I counter. 15 dollars for a print out of my address book?

Yes, he replies.

He's good. He's been raping for so long, he actually has convinced himself that he isn't, in fact, raping anyone. He thinks I like it. That I asked for it.

Well, I tell him. Throw the 15 dollars onto the rest of it. Anything else I can pay for, I smile and ask? I don't want to keep Sprint Nextel executives from buying a third summer home.

Well, you'll want a case for your phone, he reminds me. And today, phone peripherals are 20% off.

Sure, why not? Throw it all in there. All of it. In fact, I can only carry so much, so why don't you just charge my card for every dollar in my bank account, and we'll call it a day? Take it all. My gift to you, Sprint. I want to ensure your employees can have the nicest of lives in the gated communites around the country. I want your sons and daughters to go to the best schools. I want you to have turkeys on your tables every night. So, take my money, cut up my debit card, and call it a day.

At least I got a phone that takes pictures.

Suckers.