Why does PC support stink? Ask Symantec

By Charles Cooper
http://news.com.com/Why+does+PC+support+stink+Ask+Symantec/2010-7350_3-55934
37.html

Story last modified Tue Mar 01 04:00:00 PST 2005


Let me share one of my profession's dirty little secrets.

The folks in the computer press can always zip to the front of the queue
when their PCs go haywire. All they need do is place a call to an industry
contact, and a savvy technician will miraculously emerge to save the day.

It's an easy out--not to mention plainly unfair--but don't you wish you were
so privileged? Because the reality is that service still stinks. Nearly
three decades into the PC revolution, the computer industry's post-sale
support remains more honored in the breach than in the observance.

All this is by way of introduction to my go-around with Symantec during
Sunday night's Academy Awards ceremony. After rebuilding
You might assume a company that makes antivirus software would not gouge
paying customers.
my wife's hard drive, yours truly attempted to load Norton Antivirus 2005.
But the install sequence failed, because--according to the results of a
Symantec diagnostic test lasting hours--a Trojan horse program called
Adware.minibug had infected the drive.

After placing a call to Symantec, I waited some minutes before putting on a
goofy headset my wife insisted I wear. I may have looked like Lily Tomlin,
but the headset enabled me to step away from the computer. After some time,
I began jotting down notes.

So began the evening's entertainment:

4:02 Put the chicken into the oven. Used the last of the aluminum foil.
(Note to self: Buy more aluminum foil before wife finds out.)

4:05 Weirder-than-normal Muzak on the line. I wonder who chooses this stuff
and whether they wear Dockers.

5:00 Still no sign of human life on the line, but the pre-Oscar parade is
starting. The Muzak's getting worse. (Is that possible?)

5:05 Tested the chicken. Outdid myself this time, but not enough butter on
hand to make the risotto. Wife won't be happy. Still no Symantec.

5:08 How long does it take to answer a telephone? If Clint wins best
director, that would make my day.

5:12 Bored beyond belief. Starting to impersonate the Numa Numa guy. My two
cats keep their distance.

5:15 How many miles does a phone connection span from San Francisco to
India? Mind wandering. I'm picking Hilary Swank for best actress, but
Annette Bening was pretty damn great in "Being Julia."

5:20 This is the longest I've ever waited on a support call.

5:30 Oscars start. Yes!

5:39 Chris Rock's so tame, he's lame. He's so careful not to offend. He
should hang on a tech support line for a while to retrieve his edge.

5:42 Halle Berry's on stage. Oh my.

5:49 Was that Abba I just heard? Time to feed the cats.

5:52 Starting to fantasize about what I would say to Symantec's CEO if he
were to pick up the phone.

5:55 Robin Williams goes into his shtick. Max, my Russian Blue, approaches
the sofa, looks up for approval, then barfs on the rug.

6:00 More than an hour of wearing this silly headset. Still no sign of life
at Symantec. My ear's assumed the consistency of cauliflower.

6:05 Beyonce is wearing green eye shadow. Then again, I suppose few people
are looking at her eye shadow.

6:09 I'm actually starting to hum along with the Muzak. Danger, Will
Robinson, danger!

6:10 Finally, a response: "Muta," from Symantec's tech support, answers the
phone. Let us pick up on the narrative:

Muta began to recite the checklist of troubleshooting items, when I
interrupted.

"You don't need to go on," I told him. "There's a Trojan horse called
Adware.minibug that the diagnostic utility on the Symantec page says is the
problem."

Well, then we can go ahead and resolve the problem, Muta said.

Wonderful, I thought. The end is near.

"How would you like to pay?"

Come again?

I heard correctly. Two hours-plus hanging in phone purgatory was not enough.
Symantec was giving me two choices: I could receive tech assistance by
e-mail; in that case, I would pay $39.95. Or I could resolve the issue with
a live "expert" like Muta for $69.95.

"But I spent 69 bucks buying the damned thing at retail!" I yelled.

Muta realized he had a psycho-in-the-making on the line and did his best to
defuse a potential crisis.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't make the rules. Would you like to proceed?"

Um, I don't think so, I said. Why should I spend more money to get rid of an
infected file that Norton Antivirus was supposed to take care of in the
first place?

Click.

You might assume a company that makes antivirus software wouldn't gouge
paying customers who can't install its product because a minor Trojan horse
has infected the computer's drive. Isn't that what this stuff is supposed to
fix in the first place? One day, I hope to put that question directly to
Symantec's chief executive, John Thompson.

It's politically correct to say Microsoft is too big and Windows should be
reined in. But might consumers be better off if all the antivirus technology
they need came free of charge, as part of the operating system? We'll soon
find out, because that's the direction Microsoft is heading. Truth be told,
after this latest go-around with Symantec, I can't wait. 



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