I Am Sorry to Tell You But...

My mom is that woman who will do anything to save a dollar. Argue with someone on the phone for three hours to get a $7 charge removed from her credit card? Hell yeah! "Confidentially" {which means speaking out the side of her mouth since this renders her invisible in her mind} ask someone for the "cash price?" She is there! Drop to her knees to fish a quarter out of a sewer grate? BRING ON THE STICK AND THE BUBBLEGUM!

She was one of the last people on the planet to have AOL. Mom saw somewhere that they had reduced their rates for AARP members from whatever to whatever minus $2 per month. And she was pissed that she was not in on the deal! So, on the horn she goes to get this remedied. Pronto.

Her call gets outsourced to India. {This is a very bad business practice to put AARP members on the phone with India. Everyone just ends up angry and frustrated.}

My mom is, to put it politely, technology challenged. She does not understand tech stuff and is not the least bit interested in learning how it works. Hence, my brother and I end up setting all this stuff up for her. Rather than being grateful, appreciative or, at the very least, acknowledging that we do this for her... she harps that we take too long, are ripping her off, are setting her up for cyber-stalkers and identity theft, etc.

Like the poor call center folks in India, my brother and I also end up annoyed. Which is what leads me to her latest antics.

She calls to get her bill reduced $2/month and they expect her to be able to answer questions about herself since she has no idea as to what her password or account number is. {My mother NEVER calls someone with complete information or the whole story. Just another fun little quirk she has.}

She can't answer the question as to where she was born. At her insistence this keeps getting escalated up the levels of management. About an hour later this conversation takes place:

Raheem: Madam, you have to tell me where you were born.
Mom: Buffalo?

R: No, madam, I am sorry that is not correct.
Mom: Well, that is where I was born! I don't know what your computer says. Let's try New York.

R: No, madam.
Mom: Cheektowaga? {For those of you who don't know her, my mother is the least patient person on the planet. At this point, her blood pressure is about to cause her to stroke out.}

R: No, madam, think lower.
Mom: My idiot son set this up for me. Try Dallas.

R: No, madam.
Mom: All that money on private education and he does not know anything. Try Texas.

R: No, madam, even hotter.
Mom: Listen up, Raheem. My moron son set this up because I don't like computers. I don't know where the hell he thinks I was born but I WANT MY TWO DOLLARS OFF A MONTH. WHERE THE HELL DID HE SAY I WAS BORN?

Since Raheem has now been subjected to one of her (mini) tirades, he crumples. Two hundred rupees an hour is not worth her abuse. His response was classic:

"I am very sorry to tell you, madam, but your son listed your place of birth as 'the very bowels of hell.' "