Know any TV execs?

While waiting on hold for customer service at Time Warner (after it took a half hour of menu-tree navigating to find the cleverly buried option to speak to a person), I had a fantasy about hosting a reality show called "Make Me Lose My Shit". The concept is simple, it would be like Make Me Laugh except to win the money you would have to not lose your shit while being forced to endure situations diabolically designed to make you do so; like spending half the day trying to get a human being on the phone at the cable company, for example. I was on hold long enough to work the concept through pretty thoroughly; my wardrobe, the rules, potential liability issues, and a few no-fail, guaranteed-to-lose-your-shit scenarios for the crafty, unflappable contestants --like Buddhist monks and Buckingham Palace guards and whatnot. So when a voice finally came on the line saying "Time Warner Cable, can I help you?" I had MMLMS all sewn up. I decided it was as good a time as any to put the concept to the test, see if it was in fact possible to get through what had already proven to be an exercise in futility without, you know, losing my shit. I put the prize winnings at a million dollars.

"Yes, Hi. I just came home and..."
"Your phone number?"
"Excuse me?"
"What is your phone number?"
"718-***-****"
"Your problem?"
"When I came home earlier one of your employees was trying to disconnect cable to an apartment upstairs, 3R, but I think he..."
[clicking sounds] "Our records don't show any appointments in your building today."
"He was here a half hour ago. For 3R?"
"No. [more clicking] There were no calls to [my address] today."
"Okay...well a man who stepped out of a Time Warner van in a Time Warner uniform was on a ladder outside of my window..." I was screwing up already. I had decided around minute five on hold that one of the rules of MMLMS would make sarcasm and passive-aggression punishable point detractors, and if used to excess, cause to eject you from the game. I had to reign in that bitchy tone in if I was going to get the Big Money. "...my problem is that my cable was cut by...my cable has been disconnected."
"Have you tried resetting your modem?"
"No..."
"Well there's your problem, why don't you unplug your modem and..."
"Excuse me, I don't think that's the problem."
"Ma'am, 90% of connection failures are solved by resetting the modem."
"I understand that Sir, what I'm trying to tell you is that the cable line, the actual line outside of the house, has been cut."
"Cut? You think someone cut your line..." he emphasized 'cut your line' the same way you'd emphasize the words 'fix his zipper' in the sentence 'He had the balls to tell me she was only trying to fix his zipper'. "...how do you even know which line is yours?" he said, snot dripping from every pore. This guy was good. A half minute into the conversation and I was ready to kill his mother for the mistake of his birth. I knew coming up with polite, non-passive aggressive terms to use on a combative person who clearly thinks I'm a moron, or lying, or both, was nearly impossible.
"As I've been trying to...as I started to say before," Christ, it was difficult. I decided to go the route of simple, step-by-step explanation, knowing full well that being overly precise is merely the quiet man's version of losing your shit, but there was no other way. I made a mental note to put something about 'necessary meticulous speech' in the rules. "Why don't I start from the beginning, tell you everything I know."
"Yeah, THAT would be helpful." said The Fucker.
"I came home, passed one of your...a man (who could not possibly be an actual Time Warner employee because they have no record of any appointments in our building) working on the lines out front. He said he was disconnecting cable service for [neighbor's name] in 3R. I went inside, turned on my computer, and couldn't get online. I assumed, um, thought it might be possible that he had disconnected our line, by mistake of course, so I went back outside to tell him we'd lost service, but he had already pulled down the block for another call. It was at that point I looked over to our line and noticed it had been cut."
"Disconnected?"
"Cut, cut, as in severed, what part of....(dammit!)....the line had been cut in two, with a knife."
"So you think he disconnected your line."
(gritting my teeth) "Yes."
"Even though you never tried resetting your modem."
"I'm sorry, I really can't see the logic in resetting a modem that (ISN'T FUCKING CONNECTED TO ANYTHING YOU ASSHOLE!)... okay, all right, why don't we try, um, resetting the modem then."
"Hold on. What was your neighbor's name again?" There was another flurry of keyboard clicking followed by my being returned to the same hold message I'd been listening to all morning, a pleasant woman reminding me that 'all the answers' to 'any cable connection questions' can be found on their website. I won't even address the futility of that message for people with no access to the internet, but will say it was dammed effective at making me want to strangle myself with the phone cord.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"I think I've figured out your problem. Our records show a technician was at your building earlier this morning with a disconnect order for unit 3R, he probably disconnected your line instead." His. Exact. Words.

Now I'm well aware my game was a dry run for a million dollars that did not exist, but had a real million been on the line I would have willingly, cheerfully, with great joy and no reservation whatsoever, given it all in exchange for the opportunity to scream "Really you stupid fucking hockey puck? Do you think that's what happened? Because I'm not sure! Never mind the frayed piece of coaxial hanging from my window you genius fuck-wad, we never did try that modem thing! Don't be so quick to abandon your brilliant modem theory!" in his face. But as appealing as the idea was, and as much as I'll never understand patterning your customer service approach after a military tribunal or freaking cointelpro investigation, I wasn't going to flip out just because it's their policy to ignore a customers clear understanding of the problem and then take credit for discovering it themselves after basic, yet insanely time consuming examination. At that point I just wanted my cable on.

"Okay, how long will it take him to come back and re-connect it? His van is only a few blocks down the street..."
[more clicking] "We can have a technician there...[clicking]...on the 29th."
"Are you kidding? That's two weeks away."
"Yes ma'am...our earliest appointment for a service call. Are you available between eight and noon?" It was here --a stroke of brilliance unparalleled in its ability to make one lose one's shit-- his tone changed. He became the most polite, friendly, yet totally unaccommodating human to have ever walked God's green earth; nothing, and I mean nothing is more infuriating.
"But it's not a service call, there was nothing wrong with our service until a half hour ago when one of your technicians cut our line."
"I understand that ma'am."
"But you expect us to wait two weeks when the guy who did it is still on my block?"
"I apologize for the mistake Ma'am, should I put you down for the eight to noon slot on the 29th?"
"May I speak to a manager?"
"I am the manager."
"This is insane."
"I understand your frustration." I began to see little imaginary twenties and fifties and hundreds float away in front of my eyes. I was, as my grandma would say, being killed with kindness. I swallowed hard and gave it one last, gasping attempt at a save, after that I knew all bets would be off.
"Look, I would understand if there had been a power outage or some other unforeseen natural disaster, or we hadn't paid our bill or something, and believe me I'm fully aware it's not your fault personally --you've been very helpful, a fact I would be glad to pass along to your supervisor (Hey Rocky, watch me pull a compliment out of my ass)-- but you must agree there should be some kind of priority for instances where an outage is the fault of the company.
"It would seem so Ma'am. However, it is our policy to take appointments on a first come, first serve basis."
"Is there any way to contact the technician who was just here? Any way to get him to stop by some time today and reconnect the cable he cut by accident? It's not even noon yet, and as I mentioned he is still on my street."
[more clicking] "I can have a technician there between eight and noon on the 29th."
"That's the best you can do?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Two weeks, when there's a guy so close I could hit him with a rock."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"What if I wanted new cable service, we don't have cable TV, how long would it take a technician to get here to install cable TV?"
"New cable service? [clicking] I'm sure we have a technician in your area..."

Yeah, you're goddamn right all bets were off. But in the rage that followed (a rage that, of course, got our cable fixed post haste and our bill adjusted for each second we were without service) the sheer genius of Make Me Lose My Shit became impeccably clear...I could make the prize three million, hell, seventy million dollars because I'd never have to pay out. Never. No one would ever win. It's impossible.