The Don’t Care Bears

If the former Soviet Union ran a cable company, it would probably resemble Comcast’s customer care centers, filled with long lines and inflexible, bureaucratic representatives that refuse to think outside the (cable) box. Philebrity.com calls the cable company’s downtown office on Delaware Avenue in Philadelphia the Comcast Get Out of TV Jail Center:

If you have ever had to return your cable boxes or pay your shut-off cable bill in cash because there’s a big pay-per-view wrestling event you need to see that night, you know this place. We know you know. And we know you feel hot shame for ever even knowing what this place is, or standing in its soul-sucking lines on the other side of the bulletproof glass, and we know that you don’t want anyone to know you’ve been there. So we’ll talk about it for you. To know the Comcast Get-Out-Of-TV-Jail Center is to know failure up close, to be on intimate speaking terms with failure, and to know that the conversation with failure is always mostly in the bitter parlance of popular t-shirts from the 1980s: Life’s a bitch and then you die. 

The apparatchiks ensconced behind Comcast’s bulletproof glass know you cannot get to them, so some have their worst behavior on full display. Some think they know you before you even reach the counter. That angry-looking customer with the file folder? ‘Not for me,’ Carol says, stalling for time with the customer in front of her just long enough to let Brenda the Temp deal with him as next in line. It’s the closest thing to the Department of Motor Vehicles, where long waiting times never interfere with an on-time lunch break or extended chat with a colleague while you sit the day away.

“When many of us here in Philly think about Comcast, this is what we think of,” writes the online magazine. “Not the gleaming tower, nor the endless fun of Xfinity, but this place. This sad awful place. Because this is the place that says, “This is really what we think of you. We know you are worthless. Look at you, with your cardboard box of outdated remotes and modems, and your folded up twenties, hauling our sad s*** back to us like a doting animal with a dead rodent between its teeth.”