Some store, somewhere, definitely has my photo in back with a sign that says “This lady is a bitch, don’t help her.”

It’s not that I’m “mean” to those in customer service, it’s just that they refuse to serve me in the manner in which I would like them to, so I’m forced to go ham on them to try and get what I want. Which might be counter-intuitive, but…eh maybe there isn’t a “but” here. There’s just something about dealing with customer service that makes me immediately tense up and get preemptively angry, like an abused dog thrown into a cage of pit bulls. I know they’re probably going to tell me they can’t help me, so I just go in like a pitbull. Maybe this is something I should talk to my therapist about (Napoleon complex? Who’s to say).

Most recently, I have been in a bitter, bloody battle with AT&T, the likes of which haven’t been seen since “Braveheart,” except I was screaming “Early Upgraaaaade!”  I would like to preface this story with that fact that I used to sell cellphones, so I know what a fucking racket this business is. I also know that if a manager thinks you, the representative, are cute…they’ll authorize whatever the fuck you want, because cell phone contracts are such bullshit. This isn’t Homeland security. Mama’s just trying to get the coolest phone sooner.

I was trying to help my fiance get an early upgrade on his phone, because the iPhone 6 just came out, and he decided that his phone “wasn’t working properly” (it was) and that he “refused to live one more day with a malfunctioning phone” (he really could). Not wanting to fight the man I believe the book “Mr. Impossible” was based on, I called AT&T to get the scoop on how we could get around this “you have to wait 2 more years” rule. After being connected to 4 different people in 3 departments (are your jobs that specialized?!), a lovely lady tells me she’ll do it for me (I was nice to her…maybe that’s why. Lesson learned. Briefly) and noted our account. Like a kid on Christmas, we frolic into the store with dreams of big screens and a retina camera in our heads (WTF is a retina camera?). I direct them to the note in our account. They see the note. They will not honor it. They tell me to call AT&T and figure it out. Not to have the Christmas wish crushed, like the year I asked for a Barbie 4-Wheeler and got a scooter, I call AT&T…while standing in the AT&T store (am I the only one who thinks this is ABSURD?). I talk to a new person who says the note on the account is invalid.

I proceed to go Twilight-New-Werewolf CRAZY on the phone representative and store employee, simultaneously. Was this the best course of action? Definitely not.And I’m pretty sure everyone in the store was watching me curse two people out at once – and they probably had me on speakerphone in Guam or wherever the AT&T call center is located (I know for a fact the man I was talking to was not actually named “John.” John from Guam? I’m not buying what you’re selling). How can I be dealing with two people from the same company, who are just passing the blame back and forth from the Upper East Side to – was it Bangladesh? Aren’t you on the same team? Does AT&T not do team-building ropes courses? Or just even a company lock-in at HQ? After refusing to back down and accept “no” as an answer, or worse – get transferred to someone else “who may know more about this situation”…I did eventually get the upgrade.

I feel like I go through the same battle every time I deal with customer service (if you have Time Warner Cable, I KNOW you feel me on this one). The idea that we have to sign bullshit contracts to have a cellphone or get cable TV and we’re locked into these arbitrary rules is mind-boggling to me. We all know they’re totally made-up and don’t matter right? It’s like “girl code” or rules like “on Wednesdays we wear pink” (I don’t subscribe to those rules, either). I long for the day when threatening “I’ll just cancel my service and switch to Verizon” was the magic word, and you’d get whatever you were asking for. Now, you say that and they’re like, “okay I can cancel that now.” Do I have NO leverage? It’s like arguing with my mother…I have zero bargaining chips.

Maybe I’m just high maintenance and I’m the “Little Miss Impossible” (okay, I know that part is totally true), but why can’t a girl get a little help? I don’t want to curse people out. I’m actually a really nice person…who has a fuse shorter than a T. Swift relationship (rim shot). And trust me, I know throwing a fit makes me look waaaaaay worse than it does you (it’s one of those times you think you’re powerful like Miranda Priestly in “Devil Wears Prada,” but you actually look like newly-bald-Britney-Spears wielding an umbrella).

But if calling you and your supervisor a twat and refusing to hang up gets me 6-months of HBO and Showtime for free, I have a whole slew of other nicknames in my arsenal. Although I’m no longer welcome at the AT&T Store on 86th and Lexington.