If You're Not Talking To Someone Face-to-Face, They Might As Well Be an Ex-Con Fraud Felon.

If there's one thing I've learned over my years of existence, it's that people on the internet are dishonest.

Yeah, you're probably thinking "Jay, you dumb thumb, this is common knowledge". I don't mean fourteen year old attention-seeking wack scum trick bitch trolls who lie about being "bi, but kissing girls is grosssss" or "omg I love Fear and Loathing" when you wouldn't know Hunter S. Thompson if he snorted coke right off your fat bimbo duck lips. I'm talking about moderately reputable companies who try to solve support problems by dicking me around until I forget about it ever happening. This is now how I work.

Example.

Over the past few months, interesting things have happened to my internet connection. Something called "peak hours" was introduced. Now, peak hours existed before my ISP knew what they were. Eventually, they caught on, and thought, "Hey, is there any possible way we can cut down individual bandwidth and muscle customers into spending more directly under the layman's nose while still pretending nothing's different?" Then someone else (who probably was giving an executive a quick job with their hand or mouth) decided it would be a good idea to, between roughly 6:00pm and 1:00am, obliterate the connection speed for those on the cheaper internet plans. This leaves me with a one-bar Call of Duty connection during the prime time I'm online. I'm level 40 in Modern Warfare 3. I've been level 40 for weeks, because I can get, on average, one game in before I start running into corners I've already circled past three times.

Two weeks of correspondence with several different grammar illiterate immigrants and one Russian named Ivan, I was informed that there is nothing wrong with my connection; it has been the same the entire time I've been contractually attached to their company like a conjoined twin whose sister is retarded and defecates often. The only way to fix it, they said, was to upgrade my Mbps. Two things: Firstly, I've had a boss connection up until this year. Boss. Secondly, the amount of bandwidth I get is irrelevant, because it doesn't magically force other service users to decide they hate the internet and no longer wish to use it, for fear they will go to Hell and be sodomized for being too close to porn.

The best part was when they pacified me by telling me they would "escalate" my issue, and that it would take up to five business days. After five days and no change, I contacted the service again, being told that the problem was fixed and there was nothing more that could be done on their end. Apparently, the "problem" was that they weren't butt-fucking enough customers with huge bulletproof thunderstorm firecocks, and they had to spend five days remedying that situation. Needless to say, I'm sitting here with no fix, and a pocket full of lies and run-arounds.

When I needed my graphics card, the guy I talked to (directly to his face) was so straightforward and brutally honest about my system that I almost came. That's the kind of service I'd like online, but alas, there's just no respect. I can't go to their HQ and yell, I have to settle for Arabian outsourcing. I hate people.