Forgiveness is a powerful gift. It should be amassed in great quantities and given out in abundance. I consider myself a very forgiving person – something that has served me well over the years when I find myself sulking in the dark corner known as ‘the victim role.’ But it’s not always easy. Sometimes something happens where frantic rage is the only available response to being royally screwed.
Last week, UBER screwed me.
Yes, the reliable, convenient, cab-on-demand car service that has quickly taken the late-night world by storm robbed me blind and left me spinning in a customer service nightmare.
One morning about a week ago I woke up to the tune of about 7 unauthorized UBER fares that were most definitely not mine. Someone had taken over my account and was joy-riding around Manhattan’s Upper West Side to the tune of around $300.00. Couple that with a endless stream of unauthorized fares that I’m having to constantly cancel, and I’m steaming at the ears.
First response: call UBER and let them know someone had hacked my account and is actively trying to steal money from me. WHAT’S THAT?! UBER DOESN’T HAVE A PHONE LINE? Nope. No phone line. No possible way to get ahold of this massively popular business service by telephone. Not even their local branch offices. Am I crazy or is this fucking terrible?
Okay, no phone line. I read online (yes, I had to turn to Google for help because UBER’s website is a complete waste of bandwidth) that if you email their support address, they usually reply quickly – especially for hacked accounts and refunds.
Great. I’ll just email support and should hear something within the hour. I waited.
Meanwhile my account is still hacked, and I’m still sitting there (at work) with my phone in my hand as I cancel fare after fare from various dubious looking UBER drivers (Hans, Mamadou, Luis, thanks a yahoo). Oh yeah, and I waited some more.
In fact, I waited 48 hours and didn’t hear so much as a confirmation that they’d received any of the bakers dozen emails I’d sent. I felt like I was taking crazy pills. Okay, so there’s an UBER office in downtown Seattle. I guess I’ll take my lunch break and go see if I can’t waive my hands and scream at a real human being.
I was grateful the woman who helped me was nice and apologetic, however little help to my ongoing UBER…issues. She assured me someone was looking at my case, but couldn’t do any better than giving this persons direct email address to me. Not what I had hoped, but I was making progress.
By this point, UBER had seen how many cancelled fares I had on my account and effectively BANED me from using their service. Now I’m the bad guy. Good fucking riddance.
So I go home, send a few emails to my new lead and do some more waiting. And some more waiting. Finally, 5 full business days after the initial offense, I get an email from Adam at UBER customer service (not even the contact I’d been given) saying UBER was very sorry and my case was being looked at and my refunds were sure to go through soon.
HALLELUJA!!! PRAISE JESUS!! JUSTICE AT LAST!!!
Not quite yet.
Now I sit here a calendar week after being robbed blind by unanimous internet thuggery, still without the money that was taken from me. Adam has assured me that everything has cleared on his end, but I’ll believe it when I see it.
UBER screwed me. In epic fashion. But through all that chasing down and waiting and worrying and raging, I’ve still found the strength to look Hans, Mamadou and Luis in the eye and say:
UBER, I forgive you.