The Royal We

As I mentioned before, I've been pretty pissed off with my cell phone plan. It's Cingular, by the way. I don't like them. Let me say that again: I don't like Cingular. They suck. They are not raising any bars. Their rate plans are from the 19th century. Why do we pay to receive text messages? Why do we pay roaming charges? Boo. And by "we," I'm naturally referring to the royal "we." That's me. I'm the royal we.
So I'm shopping around, on the Nextel site, you know, because I see people on the bus with their walkie-talkie phones and I think, "That could be me. Here I am stuck in the last century with a phone that only I can hear, paying through the nose, when I could have a ruggedized bright yellow conversation that let the whole bus hear my weekend plans."
Aaaaaaaanywhoozlebees, I'm shopping around on the Nextel site, and this chat window pops up. "Jessica" asks me if I'd like any assistance. As it turns out, I did need assistance, because the chat window popped up right over the information at which I was trying to look. It's like if you were in a real store, and a sales rep tried to stand between you and the rack. "Would you like some help viewing the MP3 player that I'm blocking with my body?" So I asked her my couple of questions, and she responded pretty quickly. I was, like, all won over. It only took a couple of seconds for me to be totally impressed with Nextel's web site. I mean, there's personal service, right there on top of the page I'm trying to view. Personal service in bed with my browser!
Of course, it wasn't meant to last. Within two minutes of getting me in the chat window (during which time I'd already told her my life story), "she" (by which I mean Jessica) started getting really antsy about me having not purchased anything yet. "Which cell phone plan would you like to purchase today?" Whoa, Jessica, I mean, we're just getting to know each other. Don't you want to chat for a while first, establish some emotional boundaries. No. Jessica wants hot capitalist action, and she wants it now. Not to sound prudish, but that kind of aggressiveness kind of turns me off. So I decided that I'm just going to go to a store and talk to a real human. At least there, I can give subtle visual cues (like snorting in disgust) when salespeople try to get in my wallet before I'm good and ready.

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