Cablevision Makes LIPA's Communication Look Exceptional

By popular demand – my “discussion” with Cablevision ……

When I got my electric back – about six days after it went out – I was curious if my Cablevision would be working. According to everything they’d said, it would still be functional.

Loaded everything up … and found that it wasn’t working. OK … so, I immediately called them to get an ETA.

They took a cue from LIPA’s customer service ideals, and basically had rendered any way to speak to a customer service rep null and void. You only had options to deal with automated menus, or call back later. So, I fired up my company’s iPad and hopped on the mobile network to chat with them.

The first person said he had “no idea” when we’d be getting cable back. He told me to check back later that evening. I checked back later, and again, was told “no idea.”  This time, the individual told me he would have someone contact me.

I checked with my neighbors, who had switched to FIOS last year; and they had their service. I called FIOS and inquired about their service. They, not surprisingly, answered (which indicates their outages weren’t nearly as severe). We spoke and I got an idea on cost and also, when they could get there to install.

The next day, I again chatted with Cablevision; again, was told, “no idea.” I explained that I had spoken with FIOS and now had an appointment for them to do the install (this wasn’t entirely true). I explained that it was now a race … if Cablevision could get there before FIOS, I’d stick with Cablevision. If FIOS got there first, there’d be no rush for Cablevision, because I wouldn’t have their service anymore. Again, I was told someone would contact me.

Around 4:30 (still not having heard from anyone) I chatted again, and bluffed hard. Told the specialist that I was ready to cancel, but needed to know the steps to take. He gave me a phone number and assured me someone would answer.

So, I contacted the disconnect department. Explained my situation. The rep was decent (mostly) – explained it was my decision, blah, blah, blah. Still no idea when I’d be getting connected again. But, then, she made some critical mistakes.

First – there’s *no way* they could absolutely have no idea …. They explained they were still “assessing the situation” – but, it had been six days (and, unlike power lines, there’s no inherent danger in just ‘flipping the switch’ on, to return service).

We then discussed the pace they were re-activating people. I explained that, according to their website, earlier that day, a total of 1547 customers (on Long Island) HAD power and didn’t have cable service;  now, it was down to 1512 … so they were activating about 35 people a day … at that rate, it would take about a month-and-a-half to get everyone back (and, worse yet, the percentage of people in my area that had service had DROPPED from 73% to 65% that day … what the hell were they doing?)

Her response was to explain why FIOS was still up (and had fewer outages …). Basically, there’s a hierarchy when it comes to lines. LIPA gets first crack at them; then Verizon (because, historically, they had been a phone company), and finally Cablevision, because, historically, there were a TV company. Even though Cablevision now has phone service, the hierarchy is unchanged.

I asked, how on earth she thought that would be a compelling reason for me to stay with Cablevision?

She told me about the higher cost of Verizon … something I also disregarded (and, of course, said, “at least they HAVE service).  Especially, when you consider many of my friends have Fios and say it’s roughly the same price (yes, the ‘taxes’ are all broken out; but, ultimately, taxes are just included with Cablevision … for example, if I can buy a  computer for $300, or I can buy one for $200, but there’s another $50 tax on top of that; I’m STILL going to buy the second one, right?

But, finally (and here’s the crux of the argument) she said,

“Of course Verizon is willing to work with you. You’re new money to them.”

Wow. Sure, that’s true and I totally get the idea of seizing market share. But, isn’t *every* customer, in today’s economy, “new money?” Shouldn’t they be?

When there are options and choices for consumers, why would any company not view even existing customers as ‘new money?’ This isn’t something like a mortgage, where the consumer really has no choice (once they’re secured), or even LIPA. This is something where *every month* a consumer has to make a conscious choice to stay with your service.

I definitely prefer things like loyalty rewards … if you want to retain your customer base, it’s best to not ignore them and focus on new business. Retention is just as important. So, if you want to add an incentive to your new customers; so be it (there has to be a reason for them to “switch” in the first place, right?), but even after they’re customers, figure out ways to reward their loyalty. Make them feel as though, by switching, they’ll be missing out on something.

I left the conversation, repeating the same ‘challenge’ to the rep. About 30 minutes later, my service returned. Although it feels good to say it was a result of my conversation, I’m far more likely to believe it was nothing more than coincidence.

A few other mostly unrelated tidbits:

LIPA – a lot has been made about LIPA’s poor communication. My power returned on Saturday, 11/3, but, for some reason, the following Thursday, I got a call from LIPA, advising me that my “outage” (which was non-existent) was ‘more severe than they’d originally though, and needed specialized manpower and equipment’ but I should have my service restored by Friday at noon. Then, Friday afternoon, I received the same message, apologizing for them not meeting their deadline, but committing to a Saturday deadline instead.

I had power the entire time. This is remarkably concerning. No WONDER it took so long; they were too busy restoring power to people who still had power!

Last week, I also visited another diner on Long Island (not the same one I ranted about the first post) -- probably my favorite ... the O-Co-Nee Diner. The place is a virtual Party City store … every holiday there are more decorations in the diner than anywhere else. But, the food is also exceptional. The owner had been the force behind the Seaford Palace (a fairly famous diner on Long Island) – which used to have a 90-minute wait on weekends for a table. For a diner.

On Foursquare, the dissenters will argue the service isn’t great. Previously, I’d never noticed one way or the other. Last week, though, we had an exceptional server. She was thorough, quick and friendly. While my sister was discussing which soup to get with her husband, she mistook what he’d ordered and she got the same type. When the soup came out, she expressed her regret, and said, “oh, I didn’t realize you got the same one; I would’ve gotten the lentil soup.” The server heard this and told her, “I’m happy to take it back and get you what you want.” There was no reason to do this; no one expected it; but – this was exceptional.

Halfway through the meal, the owner’s son came by and dropped four super-large chocolate chip cookies on the table for us. Gratis.

We’ve been to O-Co-Nee before. At one point, we were going fairly frequently. It’s definitely back in my rotation now. The sheer attention to what makes a visit meaningful is what separates this diner from the others.

What to do ... what to do ....

Hello again.

So, it's been a while since I've posted anything. 2012 has not been a great-fun year ... you can read back over my posts if you're not familiar with the circumstances (in short: my mom's passing, two surgeries, and a few other inconveniences that comprised my crap cake).

This blog originally started as a way for me to continue to keep up with writing, while I was unemployed. In fact, two years ago -- November 2010 -- I participated in NaBloWriMo (National Blog Writing Month), where each day I posted one story. At the time, since I wasn't working, this was my primary outlet for writing, and I used it pretty frequently.

When I started working again in 2011, my posting frequency dropped off ... why would someone who writes for a living (effectively) want to write in his spare time?


So, a few weeks ago, I had to wonder ... what is the purpose of this blog? For those of you who are friends with me on Facebook, you know that I'm not someone who posts random stuff there, necessarily ... my posts tend to be (1) informative, because Facebook is the quickest, easiest way to engage my friends in social media (as compared to emailing all of them separately, and having their responses in isolation); and (2) funny. Why should this blog be any different?

There are a few things I'm passionate about in life. One (which does make for good blog fodder) is customer service. I am continually amazed ... amazed ... by what passes for that these days. I've never been involved in customer service, directly, as a profession (although, I've been involved in training on it); but I also knew it wasn't my calling. I'm a firm believer that in today's commerce world, with online stores hammering away at price, the ONLY differentiating factor a company can offer is exceptional service. Too few get that.

In the past few weeks, before the hurricane, I had the opportunity to visit two 'restaurants' - 34 New (in Huntington, during Huntington Restaurant Week) and California Diner (in Patchogue). Both had remarkably poor service -- in the first case, they readily admitted they weren't prepared for large crowds due to Restaurant Week (mind you, the restaurant was *about* half-full ... I wouldn't rush there; if they aren't prepared to be half-full, I doubt they'll be successful). In the latter's case, *everything* was a surcharge ... you want a bread basket? $3 ... you want a refill of your unsweetened iced tea? full price.

So, initially, I was going to blog about the service there. But, then the hurricane hit. Between LIPA and Cablevision, new achievements were reached in poor service.

LIPA started by calling my cell phone the day after the hurricane and informing me (through automated message) that I would have my service back by noon that day. I was amazingly impressed -- this was a punishing storm, and there were nearly a million people out of service; what had I done to warrant such care? Ultimately, that wasn't true ... and when I called to inquire, they had no knowledge the call had gone out (one operator told me I had been mistaken). By Thursday of last week, the outage map was completely useless, except for the phone numbers at the top -- calling the 800 number took you to an automated center; but calling the local number provided you with the option to speak to a live person! So, I would call and politely (really!) inquire about an ETA (since the outage map didn't provide those; all ETAs were "being evaluated").

And, on Thursday, they rerouted the local number to the 800 number, so you no longer had the option of speaking to a live person ... awesome, LIPA! This is clearly the new, more transparent communication you were promising, yes?

*****************************

I don't know how much I'll be blogging still ... As I said, it's tough for writers to want to write in their spare time. But, I do think blogs need a focus; a purpose. And, hopefully, this can be this blog's purpose. It won't be a mish-mosh of topics, as it has been in the past.

With that, I just got notice of a delayed opening for my job today; so that provides me with an unexpected additional two hours where I can sit in a gas line! Joy of joys!

62 Days ....

My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today. – Watership Down

It’s been about two months since my mom passed away. I can honestly say, not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about her.

I know I haven’t dealt with the matter yet. I’ve done a positively fantastic job of suppressing my emotions and just pushing through my days; but I’m always aware of a weight; something not quite painful, but extremely noticeable, that seems to plague me.

The old mantra is true – you really don’t know what you have until it’s gone. And, in my case, I’m sure it’s amplified by the birth of my son. It pains me that he’ll never get to know her. It pains me that she never really got to see him smile or launch into one of his uber-contagious laughing fits; which has really only started in the past few months.

As a child, I was a big fan of  “Choose Your Own Adventure” books – the books where you could make a choice and see the result (a great learning tool). Unfortunately, it tricks you into thinking that the whole world qualifies for a do-over; and nothing is further from the truth.

I don’t mean to be such a downer; and I certainly don’t plan on having every blog post be nearly as depressing. I suppose it *has* gotten easier, in that time has passed; but, unlike the days immediately following, where there was pressure to complete activities required for the wakes and funeral; all that’s left now is memory … and something that isn’t quite regret.

I know my thoughts are selfish. I recognize that her road to recovery was certain to be difficult, if not impossible; and certainly painful. And, from a merciful standpoint, her immediate and sudden passing was almost certainly for the best. But, I’m also quite aware of the strong and powerful love she had for her family; and her grandchildren, even more specifically. And, I’m positive she would have willingly endured the struggle for each additional day she could have spent with them. It’s hard to reconcile what was “best” for her with what we think she would have wanted.

I know I need to deal with this … someone told me they were surprised that after the events of the past few years (unemployment, failed adoption, numerous life-threatening situations with my wife, my mom’s passing, my grandmother’s passing) that I didn’t have some form of PTSD. I suppose that’s realistic.

Part of my difficulty, of course (and where I differ from my wife, for example) is her spirituality. I like to consider myself spiritual; but I’m also driven by logic. When you see, for example, the sprawling … universe (or whatever that would be called) with millions and billions of stars and solar systems … you get a feeling for how tiny and insignificant you are.

But, I can honestly say, I pray that she has found the peace she craved, and that she still feels connected with her family (and that she’s part of our lives – so, even today, while my youngest sister is in labor, my mom isn’t “missing” it). In many ways, the closing lines of the book I quoted above (Watership Down) most effectively sum up my hopes – still incredibly sad; but positive, given the circumstances.

Black Rabbit: Hazel... Hazel... you know me, don't you?

Hazel: Yes, my lord. I know you.

Black Rabbit: I've come to ask if you'd like to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you, and I know you'd like it. You've been feeling tired, haven't you? If you're ready, we might go along now.

[Hazel looks at all the younger rabbits of Watership Down]

Black Rabbit: You needn't worry about them. They'll be all right, and thousands like them. If you come along now, I'll show you what I mean.”

He reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom.

Musical Transformation

Admittedly, I haven't felt much like blogging for a while -- plus, I wanted my last post (about my mom's passing) to stand on its own. I really haven't had many ideas, recently; so I figured I'd take a cue from one of my friends' blogs, and just mail this one in....

I wrote about Charity Vance last year -- she was one of the contestants on American Idol the year I watched the show. Interestingly, my son *adores* her (even at 10 months old) -- her song "Run Away With Me" (which is the video embedded into the post I made) enthralls him every time he hears the opening piano notes.

I began searching for other blonde singers that had melodic tunes, and came across Nina Gordon ... who? you may ask... Well, as a solo artist, she released a song in 2000, called "Tonight and the Rest of My Life" -- a perfect sound for my son:



A really nice song, with slow, melodic sounds. He definitely likes it (not as much as he likes Charity, though). But, her name (and her look) sounded really familiar to me. Did a little more digging in my mind's memories, and realized -- hmmm .... only two years before THIS song, she was putting out stuff like this:



Wow - that's some transformation; in just two years. I mean, Phil Collins (and Peter Gabriel) left Genesis; but the music they put out wasn't *that* dramatically different.

Fortunately (I guess) for her die-hard fans, she released what I call "middle-ground" music just a few years later ... a cover of N.W.A.'s "Straight Outta Compton" - but with the same type of music as "Tonight and the Rest of My Life":



So, what musical artists do YOU think have gone through an equally dramatic metamorphosis? Anyone? Anyone even come close to comparing to the radical changes made by Ms. Gordon?

Mom

My mom passed away a week ago.

It's still surreal to write that. I feel like I'm talking about someone else, when I read it. My mom was never supposed to pass away. We'd had a good, symbiotic relationship. She would call me every so often and complain that I didn't call her enough; and I would explain to her that we had the rest of our lives – there was no urgency.

I guess that was wrong.

The past week has been a complete blur. My mom had gone to the emergency room last Friday, although the situation was far from dire. True, she suffered from pulmonary hypertension, emphysema and COPD (the latter two, almost certainly linked back to years of smoking); but the past few weeks, she'd gotten progressively (and rapidly) worse. She went to the ER, primarily to get acute care; but even during the day, I was texting my wife (who works in the hospital) to see if it was necessary for me to come there – no one thought it was. She needed oxygen and rest (and what better place than a hospital).

My wife and I actually attended a party that evening. And we arrived home around midnight. My wife called the ER, and found that they were moving my mom – not to ICU (as we'd suspected), but to a lower unit. Good news all around.

An hour later, my sister called with the news. She'd simply passed away. And, even now, there's no rhyme or reason. Every doctor was shocked. Yes, she was sick (and, almost certainly, she had a long road ahead of her – the cat scan had showed other issues that hadn't been seen before). But, still, the suddenness was shocking. I'm still in shock.

From that hour (1am on Saturday morning) until now, I've run through a gamut of emotions. I don't really even know what day it is. Plans and arrangements had to be made. People needed to be notified. In just a few days, my life was turned upside down and violently shaken like a toddler with a snow globe. The days were a combination of exhaustion and distractions. I slept for hours (because, at least when I was asleep, I didn't have to be thinking).

And, suddenly, the distractions were gone. All that's left is the mourning and emptiness. And one word: "Never" - which is now completely synonymous with my mom. I'll never see her again. I'll never speak with her again. I'll never laugh with her again. I'll never be annoyed with her again.

I'm still raw. I sit for hours with my laptop and I do nothing. I accomplish nothing. For those who know me; well, that's really not me.

I put on a good show this week. I smiled and laughed with people, but the word "Never" hadn't sunk in yet. I know the next few days ... weeks ... months ... years ... will be changed forever now.

Interestingly, my recent transformation into a father had been instrumental in changing my relationship with my mom. As an example, for years, my mom (and the rest of my family) would go to an Easter play ... she'd ask my wife and I, and we always declined ... wasn't our thing. This year, I thought how much it would mean to me if my son would willingly do things with me that I wanted to do, just because I asked him; and that changed my perception. So we went. I'm very happy we did (not because the show was great; just because it really was the right thing to do).

I still believe that I need to be strong for others. During the wake and funeral, it was others' emotions that most moved me. Seeing my family hurting caused me to feel even worse. In fact, for most of the week, I was upset that I wasn't more upset. It was my family's emotions that caused me to feel sorrow.

And, then last night, for no reason, I broke into a crying fit. I told my wife I wanted to videotape interviews with all our relatives. I wanted to get video of my mom so my son will be able to build memories of her. And, I told her I wanted to make sure my son was a better son than I was. And that was it. Cue the waterworks. Exit stage left.

Obviously, the wake and funeral was a blur of emotions. My current friends, oldest friends, ex-friends, current co-workers; previous bosses – even my ex-wife showed up to pay respects ... it certainly continued the surreal feeling of the week.

And, on the last night, I gave a speech; a tribute to my mom.  It wasn't nearly as emotional as I feel now (I had days to write it, rewrite it and edit it). And, I thought I wanted it to sound as though it came from the elder statesman of the family. If I could do it over, I probably would change some things; but, I wanted to include it here.

On behalf of my entire family – my father, my sisters and their families, my aunts and my cousins, I want to thank you all for coming to pay your respects and provide support during this exceptionally difficult time.

When we were writing out the information for my mom’s obituary, the funeral director asked what her profession was. And, I answered, “mother.” She certainly had jobs – as a realtor and working for the county, later in life; but I think she would’ve liked to think her career (and what she’d be most remembered for) was as a mother.

She was a strong, passionate woman, who sought out causes to be an advocate. For many of us, the clearest example is when she formed PEGAT (the Parents and Educators for the Gifted and Talented organization), which almost certainly is her shining accomplishment. She founded the group because she felt the school district was ill-prepared to embark on this new initiative, and she wanted to ensure the parents (and teachers) were on the same page. For nine consecutive years, she led the organization, as it became – arguably – the largest and most involved PTA in the district and, almost certainly, the most progressive gifted and talented advocacy group on Long Island.

And, when I graduated from the district, she stepped down as president. It was never about the prestige or the power, for her; it was always about her children. Once her children were no longer involved in the program, her involvement was no longer necessary.

I remember asking her, years later, if it bothered her that while the organization continued, there was no homage paid to her for her hard work and the guiding principles she established, and – not surprisingly, she said no. It was never about that for her; it only was about ensuring her children benefited from the program, and whatever she could do to facilitate that was her only objective.

When her children grew, her energies led her in new directions. She was a woman who sought out purpose in life and causes to support. She became the primary caregiver for my grandmother, until she needed to be placed in an adult home. And when that happened, she formed and ran a patient advocacy program at the Good Samaritan Nursing Home in Sayville. Eventually she was a board member and volunteer with the Sayville Cabinet for the Sick and she volunteered with the Sayville Food Pantry as well.

And, sadly, in the past few years, none of us, including her, recognized that the cause she should most have been championing, was herself.

But, she would say all of these accomplishments were ancillary; because, as I said before, her top goal was to provide for her children and ensure their happiness. When we were young, she volunteered as a cub scout and girl scout leader, and she never tired of coming up with ways to make our childhood a happier time.

I can still recall being quite young and being fascinated with dinosaurs. She set up a birthday party where my friends were blindfolded and led through a museum of dinosaur artifacts she had created … there were peeled grapes, which were the dinosaurs’ eyes; and cooked spaghetti which was the dinosaurs’ veins. This was just one example of the type of mom she was. All she needed was an inkling of her children’s interests, and she was off and running with creative, engaging ideas.

She always wanted to be the house where people met. She took pride in being the destination, not only for family; but for friends. No doubt, the number of people who felt the touch of her hospitality and her generosity is almost uncountable.

Interestingly, through social networking, over the past few years, I’ve been fortunate to reconnect with countless friends and relatives from my youth, and each time I’ve connected, they shared their extremely fond memories of my mom (when I connected with one of my cousins; the first thing she remembered was how she would come to our house after school and eat frozen ding-dongs, which was the afterschool snack my mom would serve). Obviously, since her passing, those stories have just multiplied exponentially. It’s extremely comforting and I really think she’d be contented to know that her legacy and memories were so rich and warm.

I don’t want this to be entirely sad. And, more importantly, she wouldn’t want that either. I sat my eight-month old son down yesterday and explained to him, “It’s a good thing you don’t understand pressure; because there’s a lot of it on you now. The next three days, you have but one job – your job is to make people smile.” And he looked at me, and moved his bowels; which I assumed meant he understood (since that’s normally the way I acknowledge people).

One of the things people loved about my mom was her sense of humor. And, she was comfortable with – maybe she even preferred -- self-deprecating humor.

For example, even as technology evolved, she continued to use her antiquated devices; even through her family purchased newer items for her. At Christmas, one of her grandchildren might be doing something cute, and we’d all grab our smartphones to start shooting video; while she’d be struggling to load a VHS tape into the 1987 camcorder she had. For years, even after getting a cellphone, she refused to get rid of her beeper; which may have kept that industry alive for another 2-3 years.

One of my favorite stories of all time took place when we were doing my college visits. She wanted to be worldly and knowledgeable. We were looking at the campus map for New Paltz, and she said – very seriously – “oh, I don’t know if I want you to go here.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Oh, it sounds like there’s a lot of accidents and injuries here.”
“Really?” I said
“Oh yes,” she said. “There’s this whole area in the upper part of the map called the Tripping Fields.”

As her children shifted into adulthood, the relationships changed, obviously. I’m especially happy that we all – as a family – went to Disney World in 2009. My mom had always wanted to go; and it was a joy to go and experience it with her, with us all as adults. The trip certainly had its bumps (one of us (who shall remain nameless) might have had a slight meltdown in the parking lot on the last day, when the limo company showed up with a vehicle that was too small to transport us) – but, as I look back on the vacation, my memories are only happy; and I’m sure they’ll continue to get even better.

Obviously, the past few days have been a mixture of emotions – anger, guilt, depression, sadness and even some moments of humor. I think each member of my family has felt every raw emotion at some point. I think I’ve struggled, quite a bit, with what to make of this event. The sheer unfairness of her passing has – at times – consumed me; especially since I’m someone who always likes things to make sense. And, for the most part, this simply doesn’t.

Nothing any of us can do can change what has happened; we can only change our future and attempt, in some way, to make changes that honor her memory and her values. For her family and friends, who knew her, it’s important to find ways to ensure her passing was not in vain.

For me, I have no doubt that my family will become closer through these events. We already have.

I will no longer think, “oh, there’s enough time…” It was sobering and saddening to see that we had only ONE photograph of my mom and my son. There was always tomorrow. That can’t be my philosophy anymore.

I have no doubt that her virtues and life lessons prepared me to be a stronger father than I’d ever have been otherwise, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

My goal, each day, is to ensure my son smiles. And each time he does that, I feel confident that I’ve done right by her, and I know somewhere above, she’s approving of kind of father I’m becoming. And, she would certainly say, more than anything else I do in life; never lose sight of the fact that being a father is – absolutely – the most important job I’ll ever hold.

Rest in peace, Mom. You’ve earned it, for all you’ve done for everyone.

At the risk of making this sound like I’m accepting an award (which my wife cautioned me about), I did want to mention a few other things.

I do want to thank my sister Debbie, who completely stepped up and handled the lion’s share of the responsibilities leading up to today – from selecting pictures to making dinner for the entire family each night. I know, as I’ve reflected on things these past few days, that my mom held a special role in this family; one with shoes that are almost certainly too large for anyone to step into. But, if one person has the capacity to do so, it would be Debbie.

And, I do have to thank my wife, who has done even more than her usual 90 percent of the work these past few weeks, to make sure that I can stand here and actually look composed and in control, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Once again, I would like to extend my thanks and deepest appreciation for all who have come this evening. Your support has truly been overwhelming.

At this time, I’d like to invite anyone else who would like to speak and share a memory or story to do so.

I know this will get easier. And, it will get harder. There will be small things that will trigger great outbursts; and years from now, when I'm "introducing" my son to my mom, there will be a cavalcade of emotions all over again. My own regrets will fuel my efforts to show my son how amazing his grandmother truly was. Her beliefs: love your family, advocate for the less fortunate, be frugal; will be passed on to him.

One of my mom's favorite activities was going to garage sales. She'd head out on a Saturday with my sisters and their families and they would hit 20 garage sales. She loved a great deal (even though, there was a better-than-average chance that her purchases would be given to her children as gifts and – eventually – would be sold, again, at her OWN garage sale later on).

In her memory, my wife and I went to three garage sales today. I bought a copy of "Four Christmases." Her favorite holiday (and mine, by far) was Christmas. I hope she smiled.