AOL

It’s hard to be an addict.

While on vacation a few weeks ago, I signed up for an AOL dialup account so that Laura and I could suckle from the Internet’s great digital teat. Since I no longer need the account, I decided to cancel it today. This should’ve been easy. Instead, it’s very similar to cancelling a membership to a nation-wide gym.

First, it is quite impossible to find any customer-service contact number via their external website, www.aol.com. I suppose they never planned on people having alternate connectivity. I actually had to ask someone who used AOL to locate the number for the Cancellation Hotline, which in turn was very well-hidden.

Second, AOL seems to hire ex-KGB interrogation experts to act as telephone reps for the Cancellation Hotline. Mine was ‘Mike’. I’m pretty sure ‘Mike’ is short for ‘Mikhail’.

Me: “I need to cancel this account.”

Mike: “Ok, I’ll need your name…”

I give him my name.

Mike: “May I call you Eric?”

Me: “Sure.”

Mike: “Ok, Eric, I’ll need to get some more information from you. What’s your current phone number? Your street address? Your date of birth? Your shoe-size? Date you lost your virginity? Vas it good? Do you ever have impure thoughts about your mother? Tell me. I have vays to make you talk.”

Me: “Just cancel the account, Mike.”

Mike: “Ok, why do you want to cancel the account?”

Me: “It didn’t meet my business needs.”

Mike: “What kind of business needs?”

Me: “I’d rather not say.”

Mike: “Of course you can tell me, comrade! We have to know how vee didn’t meet your needs, so vee can be gettink da betters!”

Me: “Ok, the main reason I’m cancelling AOL is that the cancellation process is extremely invasive and irritating!”

Mike: “Hmph! Capitalist pig! Your cancellation number is 0032671614. And don’t expect me to be helpink you when dey have you in de gulag, Yankee.”