The day Orange announced my death
Published on 4 December 2012
A little guest post, today with Lousia, who tells us about her ugly ordeal with Orange, and its customer service, sometimes… peculiar. For once it's not coming from me… A big thank-you to her in any case, and I invite you to read her story, which is rather eye-opening.
Strangely, I've always avoided going to Orange, probably inspired by the influential master of these premises. But since my dad lived in a non-unbundled area, when I left the nest several years ago, I set him up with Internet, plus phone and TV, so he could read L'Internaute and correct my spelling mistakes on MSN. An Orange contract, then. But here's the thing. A few weeks ago, my dad passed away. And I decided to fly back to the nest, abandoning everything, including my own Internet provider. Because yes, the area is still non-unbundled.
Step 1: a change of account holder
So on Monday morning, I called Orange customer service. An advisor kindly offered her condolences, explained that she'd need certain documents, but that I'd receive a letter explaining everything, before the end of the week. The letter, I got it well before, since it was in my mailbox this morning. Speed, 10/10.
Step 2: the glitch
So I opened my letter. To my surprise, I read these words: "Hello, You have informed us of the death of Mrs. So-and-So, holder of the line…" Except Mrs. So-and-So is me. And the holder of the line, on the other hand, is Mr. So-and-So, my dad. I took a deep breath, because it wasn't very pleasant to read. And I decided to call customer service back to get an explanation.
Step 3: "I have to leave"
I picked up my phone again and dialed 3900 once more, droning out "sales department" in the hope of finally getting someone who could fix this tactless error and move things along. I reached a new advisor, to whom I had to explain my problem, namely that Orange considered me dead, but was writing to me anyway to have me fill out the account holder change form. I sensed some hesitation on the phone, but she seemed to take charge of things. Until a siren went off and she asked me to call back since apparently a fire alarm had just been triggered, and she had to leave. I hung up and took a deep breath. And I hesitated to call back, wondering if next time it wouldn't be an army of zombie advisors that would take my request.
Step 4: But Mrs. So-and-So, that's impossible!
I called back anyway, 3900, the sales department, key 3 to reach an advisor about a contract change… And I reached an advisor, to whom I explained my problem, namely… (in short) She cut me off sharply.
– "But Mrs. So-and-So, that's impossible. There's no possible transfer for an Internet line." – "Ah. You're the first to tell me that." – "Well that's not my problem, it's an error."
Clearly, I'd landed on the department's uptight one.
– "And besides, who are you to him anyway?"
Breathe. What followed was a conversation where we gradually escalated, her rejecting all responsibility, me only asking her what could possibly, for God's sake, be done to resolve this situation.
– "You have to cancel. Then create a contract for yourself." – "But I'm not going to send back the equipment, cancel, and risk a service interruption before a line is re-created, when I also use it professionally…"
(implying, and the line re-creation fees too, mind you) Apparently, yes. This person ended the conversation by advising me to "take a vacation" while waiting for my line to be reactivated. Implying that in any case, everyone takes a vacation at Christmas – I suppose. What I mostly plan on doing is having a pallet of chamomile tea delivered. Not only because this kind of unpleasant tone is pretty hard to handle at the best of times, but also because I'd have appreciated, given the situation, a minimum of empathy. But no. Now, all that's left for me to do is find a solution. If anyone has an idea that doesn't involve going through 3900…
Photo credit: AI-generated illustration
By Paingout