|Why still in South Boston. WHY. GO TO CAMBRIDGE.|
I can fix this problem, right? I call FedEx to politely tell them that it needs to be delivered to Staples. Interestingly, I'm informed that they do not have the jurisdiction to change any part of the shipping address. I'll have to call HP to have them write the word "Staples" on the box. This is an empty box. They cannot write the word "Staples" on a box full of air.
At this point, I'm pretty ripshit that HP has screwed me over for the umpteenth time, so I call their customer
I'm pretty damn convinced that HP actually stands for Hate&Petulance. Never have I ever experienced customer service in any capacity as incompetent and hindered by red tape as that which I've been dealing with for the last month and a half. The very ice of a thousand virgin strawberry daiquiris could not begin to quell the red hot ire that burns within my soul every time I think about how long I have been separated from my lappy.
I hate HP. I hate that company with the white-hot intensity of a nuclear catastrophe. Never again will I purchase a product with their sorry label on it. Just for the record, the only reason that I've stayed on this carousel of horror for as long as I have is because my laptop is still under warranted, and being pissed off for two months costs a lot less than purchasing a new piece of technology. But after this, it's all over. And I will not be shy about telling everyone I come into contact with that HP's customer service department is populated with insufferable fools. FOOLS, I TELL YOU.
This is me.