Customer Service

I've spent a lot of time lately speaking with customer service representatives.

1. Rocio: my be-yotch, my chica loca, at the AT&T store. When I showed up the first time and said I needed a b-zillion GoPhones for our staff, you were there for me. But in a kind of I-don't-know-you-I-don't-need-to-get-to-know-you kind of way.

Don't worry, I thought the same thing. Neither of us knew how many times I'd be back to your store. Neither of us anticipated the kooky mishaps inherent in purchasing, activating, and managing so many monthly phone contracts. Now when I walk in the store, your colleagues say, "You here to see Rocio?" And that one that one time that you weren't working? It felt weird.

The day you let me sit in your chair at your work station and use your phone to talk to the corporate office was a nice touch. We talked about the rental market in Los Angeles and I honestly felt relieved that you'd finally found an apartment. You said that you'd bring lunch for me the next time I spend two hours in your store at midday and I think you might have meant it. Thanks, Rocio.

2. Touring in different countries means lots of airlines with lots of different frequent flyer programs.

I was online, signing up for every airline I could think of and a few I'd never heard of since when I start something, I often take it WAY past the point of immediate usefulness. I was thrilled to find that Virgin Atlantic, when asking for my prefix (Miss or Ms), also gave me the choice of Prof, Lord, Lady, Sir, and Rev. Naturally, I chose REV. Because I can! Legally! Fucking finally!

The only person who's sent me mail addressed to Reverend Jessica Roncker is Sara. I think it's because my sermon at her and Michael's wedding had her people bawling. My sermon caused a tissue relay in the seats and I'm proud of that. Sara is proud of the fact that I listened to the one rule she gave me about officiating her wedding: YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SAY MOTHERFUCKER AT ANY POINT IN THE CEREMONY. It wasn't easy but I did it. 

3. I was well into my call to the American Express customer service center and was certain that help was imminent when the customer service representative asked, "Do you like tandoori chicken?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Tandoori chicken. Have you ever had it?"

"Yes?" I said. "I like it. Why?"

"I thought so. You sound spicy."

Is this Amex guy flirting with me? I hadn't mentioned the Spice Girls in our call and I don't know what information his computer screen was giving him but I'm pretty sure it wasn't my measurements. If I had been tempted (I wasn't), he killed potential sparks by saying that tandoori chicken is delicious but hurts as much coming out as going in. Not a good move, for flirting or financial advisement.