AT&T angry letter

To whom it may concern,




When my wife and I moved into our house in August, we opened an account with AT&T to receive DSL internet service. We have paid this bill every month and it is fine. In October we received another bill for 148.00 for another account that we never opened. It was billed in my wife's name but for an address that is not ours. We called customer service and they canceled this bill and assured us that it was taken care of. We then received another bill in November of similar caliber, and in similar fashion, we called again and were both excitedly and optimistically assured that this rogue account was taken care of. Sailing happily through Christmas, in early January we received a notice from a creditor explaining that we still owe the 148.00 dollars. My wife and I recently contacted your customer service department to report this discrepancy. Customer service transferred us to accounts receivable, who transferred us to a different department, who transferred us to fraudulent claims, who then transferred us back to accounts recievable who then . . . at that point we lost count of how many times we had been transferred. In fact, we probably had enough people who could not help us at this point that we could have started a softball team. Likewise, with the amount of time we spent on the phone, totaling one hour and 28 minutes, we could have held two practices, with ample time for breaks and snacks. Leaving that metaphor, I am filing a complaint for two reasons. First, how come that the biggest I.P. communications company in the United States can't even train people well enough to handle problems like ours? The problem was obvious, seeing as the addresses didn't match. Furthermore, if its taken care of, twice, why then do we suddenly have creditors seeking our money like hungry wolves? Secondly, our credit is now in question, not because of poor monetary management on our part, but because of your giant corporation, who, though seemingly sufficient to handle some of the worlds leading technologies, can't “control, alt, delete” one of your own mistakes. Now, I'm no phone representative, but I have worked in customer service myself for over 10 years now, and the so called “help” that took one hour 28 minutes to come is laughable at best. The final customer representative that we talked to “understood our trouble,” which is also laughable, and assured us that both the account and the creditor problem has been taken care of. Given our recent “excursions” together, I trust you guys about as much as a politician. I do realize that this verbal “slap on the wrist” may come with nothing but emotional writhing, and possibly some dictionary flipping, on your part. However, given that you are probably a manager of some sorts, and your pay scale covers sarcastic and angry customers like myself, I trust that at least something will be done to ease our woes? I mean, I know that Verizon is the “Aggies to your Longhorns,” but I hear that they offer wireless internet too, and, given the quality of help by the proverbial I.Q of your company, I'm sure they would be more than willing to steal a little more of your business, especially if you are making it so easy for them. In the words of bitter prostitutes everywhere, “Please quit screwing us.”



Sincerely, Meghan and Kyle Medlen

Liars

When Jim's wife came home early and found him in bed with another woman, he thought for sure that their marriage was over. His wife didn't scream, didn't fight. It was as if she had dropped a mirror and was peering down over the shattered pieces. Later, Jim and his wife were at the kitchen table and she asked him to just be honest. He said that he had trouble being honest sometimes, but he would try.

"It just happened, you know?"

But that wasn't honest. The girl was an interior designer at his architecture firm. She was funny and sophisticated, did her job well, and never complained. Jim had trouble trying to not stare at her breasts. It was three days until Christmas, and he invited a few coworkers out for drinks one night after a huge deal had closed, and even though she didn't know any of his friends very well, he invited her too. Sitting at the table, Jim and the woman held their own conversation. It flowered with innuendos, salacious flirting budded out and the boys knew what was up. They each casually got up and left the two to their peace. Jim and the girl hardly noticed anyone else had left.

"We were really drunk . . .

I uh, I'm so sorry . . .

"honey, wait. honey, listen. I know what I did was wrong."

Her cold back was silent.

"Listen. Honey, listen. Im so sorry. Im so, so sorry." He reiterated "so" like an infomercial, and, although he hadn't planned it, cliches came rolling out of his mouth quickly.

It didn't mean anything and it was an accident. It was an error, a simple mistake.

He felt he could not better make her understand so fell silent, back hunched on the opposite side of the bed as the daylight died. He expected this, and shook his head robotically.

He began to speak again, finding the moment monotonous. He sighed, rather loudly, surprising himself and as his mouth opened he chose not to speak because he realized his wife had been crying. But she had stopped now and simply sat there, unmoving. He could not see what she was staring at. The realization that she was crying moved him, and so he again apologized,

"Listen, honey. I can't tell you how sorry I am . . ." he trailed off and after a distinct pause, when silence became like humidity, she said

"No, its fine. It really is; I promise."

Promise floated off her tongue like the hiss from a boiler. The room got smaller, but still she drifted over to the mirror, let down her hair, and got ready for bed.

That night Jim dreamt he was driving a really nice Italian car. He was speeding through the country for what seemed like hours. He was having fun until he realized he kept passing the same hillside, barn, and water tower. He got out of his car confused. When he turned around a black and white city was hunched there, looming over him.

That morning Jim woke up and took a hot shower. He whistled on his way to work, happy to have avoided a collision with his wife. She said everything was fine, and he felt his blockade of trouble's begin to wash away with the morning rain.

Yet he had trouble concentrating all day. Something seemed wrong, like a tired chess player will without warning give up suddenly and start making fatal errors. It was so sudden, and Jim didn't see it at first but now it wore on him like a blister.

When he came home his wife was reading Fortune 500 and didn't seem bothered. She said "hey" casually, but not too casually, so Jim knew she wasn't hiding any bothered feelings about the incident.

"What do you want to do about dinner?"

She shrugged. "Whatever is fine."

There it was again, "fine." He was looking for some sort of odd tonal shift that might give him an idea that his wife really was hurt or angry. He had recited another eloquent apology on the way home, and now in his mind he was hitting the high notes. But she really did seem fine, almost uncaring. Jim kept waiting for an explosion, or even a whimper. None came.

That night, in bed, she finished her magazine, flipping the pages mechanically. Leant over, kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight."

Still no altered tones. At this point Jim was almost disappointed. She switched off her bedside lamp and rolled over with her back to him. He thought about how her back looked like polished metal.

That night he dreamt in color for the first time. He was limping through the hunched city, and everywhere people were being stabbed to death.

The Story of Fathers V

Mother's and brother's cries
         wash over
     the hard wood
floor

              like an unwelcomed guest


Father died.


I try to cry but I can't
miss someone I don't
    know

We could
   analyze
   the situation

could have
   found
   other opinions-


but that isn't what I need right now

My reconstructions of the past will
bring both pleasant and sad
         memories

my hidden memories

      will reveal that I could have done everything

      and nothing more.

Jacob's Hip

Jacob's hip has manifested
itself

What is the use of victory if its
over a friend

Forgiveness is informal but once open
to it

that following feeling is too short lived
missed too easily

if caught

lonely when its gone

Oh Great;

come to me
at me
if necessary

and if I limp i know that there has been
some great contact

the pain in walking will only be
the memory

the reminiscence of something greater and opposite
of pain

untitled

Every time I come to,
I'm face down in a lake-
not dead-
but unconscious.

With great effort I must
rotate and face up
and see the stars.

I don't want this to be a romantic idea-
I need this-
these stars
this space
this night.

I need this.

This space exists
in such an a opposing way
to this city,
to this cramped coffee shop.

Its attractive in its awe,
its autonomy
that makes me feel at home.

My Modest Proposal

Hollywood and MTV's The Hills have got it all wrong. They've run the homeless out of town to feel comfortable; traded them for pillows stuffed with presidents. I propose instead that to end the epidemic of the homeless starving in America, we halt all productions in spaying and neutering; as it is so the dogs and cats in question do not have any say in the removal of their genitalia, to which, if they did I imagine would come a great howling. Likewise, the accuracy and senses of the homeless community would be incredibly sharpened, useful in future wars, and seeing as we hold all other countries, especially those of the third world, below that of dogs and cats, the homeless community's skills in hunting would be quite practical. I propose that we arm them with a particularly small amount of government aid but I say we relieve ourselves from educating them; it would be far better use for their own livelihoods in a stray hunting or war battlezone if they acquired all of the necessary skills themselves, for we all know that learning to stand on one's own two feet makes the best standing army, the regalia of which is good ol' Red White and Blue and Green. When and if they returned, there would, of course, be a great commencement and hooplah and thanking all around, because these boys both learned how to eat for themselves and kept us from losing our freedom. And in times of peace, when the world is at ease because we are at ease, we can rest assured knowing that the homeless community can retain all of their previous freedoms, without any "butting in" from the government; the government will, out of gracious thanks, turn a blind eye to any possible dis-courageous actions involving strays, and Her People, us of course, should also not think any less of these great heroes of war and stray number thinning, because while we sleep in our down beds with the heaters on, we know that our country will have been protected and and stray cats and dogs will have been thinned thanks to the great community of the Homeless.

W. K. Medlen

pun

The stature of our love
  is
     diagonal
                   towards
                                each
                                        other.

     Our Planes
     coincide
     at a perfect point.

coexistinthesamespace
even(ly).
         (Our love is behind the numbers)

Our pitch is perfect as we struggle to sing
with scratchy voices
in a world of lame
autotuners.
         (Our love is in the music)

Money means much to many
and to have many means much more;

without these, we have much more.