in which I cancel AT&T long distance service

Many years ago, when I first moved into my own bachelor pad, the kindly folks at AT&T called to warn me about the dangers of slamming, encouraging me to sign up for their service. Nestled safely in Ma Bell's bosom, I'd never have to fear the guerilla tactics of sleazy corporations.

That is, until AT&T turned sleazy.

Their One Rate plan, which I originally signed up for, was perfect: no play, no pay. If you didn't make any long distance calls--and believe me, I didn't--you paid nothing. But one day Ma Bell realized that I wasn't paying anything, ever, and they changed the plan. Now the One Rate plan required a $5 minimum charge. When I got the letter, I called to cancel. "Don't do that," they pleaded, their sweet, soothing voices lulling me into a hypnagogic state. "We have a new plan, the One Rate Simple plan. It's just like the old One Rate plan."

Sucker that I was, I said okay, fine, whatever. Then six months later, post-SBC merger, I got another letter. "Beginning with bills issued on or after July 1, 2006, a $5 monthly usage minimum charge will apply to the AT&T One Rate Simple plan."

That was it. That, and the way AT&T treats its customers' private information: as a plaything for NSA hacks, data miners, and God knows who else.

Maybe AT&T has gotten too many calls from jaded customers, or maybe the merger has killed corporate morale, or maybe a combination of the above. When I called to cancel, the operator--I'll call him "Ray"--didn't even try to stop me, offer me a different service, or even ask why I was quitting. He just typed and chatted away, complaining that he "has to do everything now," and asking me all sorts of questions about where I work, what my summer plans are, and anything else that might be of use to NSA flunkies. (He even promised to send a check for the $6.82 credit I've carried since forever, the fifth such promise I've been given.)

Am I ever glad I quit. If you're with AT&T, you should, too. Don't pay a cent to a company that respects nothing but its bottom line.



Update: Miracle of miracles, the check arrived two weeks later. $6.82 doesn't buy much solace, but it does afford a goodly amount of trans-fatty acids and high-fructose corn syrup.