AT&T: The Furry Caterpillar

In my blog entries, I make a conscious effort to avoid specific identifiers. I do this for two reasons: to protect the innocent and to protect myself from the inevitable lawsuits. In a litigious society, one can never be too careful.

Today, I'm breaking my own rule. Why? Because the offending party earned it. They worked hard for it. They deserve it. Who are they? Stand up and take a bow - AT&T Mobility, formerly Cingular, formerly AT&T Wireless, formerly BellSouth Mobility. I know, because I've been with these jokers through each metamorphosis. Even when I tried to escape by switching from Cingular to AT&T, Cingular bought AT&T and I was assimilated back into the collective. With each metamorphosis, I hope that a butterfly will replace the furry caterpillar. Each time, I get another furry caterpillar.

When I moved, I made every effort to erase all traces of my existence in the northeastern postindustrial wasteland, including changing my cell phone number. Somehow, this triggered a "new customer" alert at AT&T. Before I could learn my new number, I started getting all kinds of crap marketing offers, trying to sell me another phone line, another phone, more minutes, and a big chocolate cheesecake. (OK, I made up that last one.)

In the midst of marketpalooza, I learned that AT&T decided that I needed roadside assistance coverage, to the tune of $2.99/month. The slick brochure announcing this service informed me that I had to call the marketing firm in charge of the promotion to avoid being charged for a service that I never asked for in the first place. Well, after weeks of dealing with cable companies, phone companies, banks, tag offices, and leasing offices, I'd had it. I called aforementioned marketing firm. After being on hold for 10 minutes, I told the unfortunate jackass who answered the phone precisely where he could put his unsolicited roadside assistance. In fact, I think I offered my AAA service, if he needed assistance finding the exact location that I specified. I explained that this marketing strategy forced me to waste my valuable time on something I didn't want or need. I'm not sure he enjoyed the irony of his impatience quite as much as I did.

Fast forward to today: I got out the checkbook and the accumulated bills and performed the monthly ritual that we all know so well. Yes, I'm a dinosaur and I still write checks, lick envelopes, and affix stamps. As I detached the payment stub from my AT&T Mobility bill, I noticed a charge for roadside assistance. $2.99. Big as day. On my bill.

Calmly, I reached for my cell phone and called the furry caterpillar. Calmly, I waded through the automated options, never hearing, "If we are erroneously charging you for a service that you specifically declined three months ago, please press *" When a real person finally answered the phone, I explained the situation. I believe I said, "I seem to recall speaking with your marketing firm about this service and telling them that I wasn't interested, since I already pay for AAA. Apparently, you didn't get the message, even though you are a communications company." Without explanation, the woman on the other end of the phone offered to remove the charge from my bill and to credit my account for the previous months.

Word to the wise - if you use AT&T Mobility, always check your bill carefully. Always open and read junk mail to make sure they won't automatically charge you for something that you didn't ask for. Like I said, it's just another furry caterpillar.