The little things you have to do when someone dies…

I’m on the phone with Bell, canceling my father’s phone and internet account. I haven’t dealt with Bell since leaving them 8 years ago for appalling service when I had my Blueberry iMac (“I’m sorry Mr Dead Rewbit, but the person who handles Macs is on a break right now.”) and so far, past the smarmy “look how techy we are with voice activated prompts!” voice prompt system, into real conversation with a real person, it’s been a cake walk. When I tell Customer Service rep Sharon why I’m closing the account she seems genuinely sorry.

We’re finalizing the details.

“The Internet will be cut off to your father’s apartment on the 20th. Before I do this, is there someone else who would like the account?”

“Not sure what you mean,” I say, squinting at the phone.

“Is there a family member or friend who would like to take over the billing of this account. Is there anyone you can think of who would like internet service?”

“You mean ‘Keep the account alive’?” I intentionally say this, I want her to wince behind her headset. Is she trying to retain a dead customer? “I… don’t think so.”

“Alright then Mr Dead Robot.” She motors on through the rest of the call. It was the only point in the call where she sounded like she was reading from a script.

I was Da’s go-to guy for all things internet/computery. In the grim moment of relinquishing my father’s email accounts, his unused access to the virtual world, Bell wants me to keep paying.

I’ll have to say Fuck You, Bell.