Friday, March 23 , 2018, 7:08 am | Fair 46º


She Said, Z Said: You Want Fries With That?

Stop me before I accept one last final offer

Z: You want to know what bugs me?

She: It’s Monday, so I’m guessing ... everything?

Z: Aside from that.

She: Thrill me.

Z: Upselling. Upselling chaps my butt.

She: Two wars, a massive oil spill and Russian spies who fell into the Hot Tub Time Machine don’t make the radar, but upselling spins you into an angry rant?

Z: I was ordering a new laptop from the HP Web site, and I had a few questions. My choice was between calling a phone number I knew would lead me through a 57-branched phone tree into a black hole queue, or a live online chat.

She: What could possibly go wrong?

Z: Online chat help is painfully slow, but at least you can do other things, and there’s no misunderstanding accents.

She: I would think online customer service would be a godsend for you.

Z: Not so much. I asked the online person a question about fire wire. He sent back a canned answer, rapidly followed by a canned inquiry, something along the lines of: “Once you get your new HP, have you decided how you’re going to protect it? With a long-term warranty from HP?”

She: That’s confidence building.

Z: Exactly. Not only are they trying to upsell me something useless, but it makes it seem like the product I actually want is going to explode in a few weeks so I better be covered. Now I’m not so sure I want the HP anymore.

She: I’d much rather have a Mac, but don’t forget about the $300 coupon from our recent Verizon switchover.

Z: During the course of which, by the way, I was constantly offered obnoxious, canned upselling options.

She: So I’m thinking you got the HP.

Z: Sad to say, yes. But you know who else is a merciless upseller?

She: I have a feeling I’m going to find out.

Z: Subway. “Would you like double meat? Double cheese? Avocado? Combo meal?” At least HP didn’t offer me double meat.

She: I know it’s ridiculous. I went to buy bras the other day and the saleswoman asked if I needed any earrings to go with them.

Z: It’s important to accessorize.

She: The other day at Sears I went in to buy Koss a $9 pair of shorts and came out with $117 worth of upgrades.

Z: That’s more short-attention-span shopping than upselling.

She: It doesn’t count when you upsell to yourself?

Z: This is why I’ll never let you talk to a telemarketer again.

She: I think they stopped calling our house anyway.

Z: Because of my brilliant child anti-marketing scheme.

She: Huh?

Z: When Koss was 2, every time a telemarketer would call I’d put him on the phone for a nice, long conversation.

She: That’s right. Then I’d come home from work and he’d give me these long re-enactments of his conversations about fire wire and routers with his friend Rajeev.

Z: I suppose that’s why he has such a hard time stopping himself from answering the phone during dinner.

She: Poor kid. I think it’s genetic. My parents have the same problem.

Z: Fortunately, I’ve found a low-cost solution.

She: Let me guess.

Z: With the upgraded package of Verizon/Direct TV Freedom Essential Bundle we now have caller ID, right in the middle of all your favorite TV shows.

She: What could be better than seeing the fruits of your upsell gullibility in the middle of dinner and the World Cup.

Z: Uh, getting poked in the eye with a vuvuzela?

She: But wait! If you order your vuvuzela now, I’ll throw in a handy-dandy carrying case and double meat for only five dollars more!

Z: Yes, dear.

— Share your upsell gripes with She and Z by e-mailing .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).

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