The Ryndex

The only thing worse than being at the beck and call of the strident telephone line, my dear sirs, is not having one at all.

I contacted the local telegraphery agent to reprovision my residence with one of these new-fangled inter-net devices. I was all too content to swallow their absurd promises of free vocal communication within The Hexagon, and sent packing the scalliwags who had heretofore been managing my voice-box.

Unexpected, however, I found that I had replaced scalliwag with scurrilous routabout! Those montebanks disactivated my telephone gadget and replaced it with… Nothing.

Swindled, I tell you!

I did not take this lying down, I assure you. I investigated my cause with their “effayque” and clearly stated my problem in an email from my office. Rest assure, that would solve the problem.

Yet, a nagging doubt penetrated my faith in the system. Sure enough, I soon received a reply that “to better serve their customers”, technical support was only available online, through the “effayque”.

So I went back, found my section, went to their online form, signed up for an email account with them so they could accept my request, and sent it. They replied three days later, quoting an irrelevant section of the FAQ.

The only way to contact them is by telephone. The tech support number costs 34 centimes a minute. They put you on hold. I gave up after ten minutes. This is acceptable practice in France.

I still don’t have Internet or telephone service to my home.