Rogers Plus Store Willow

I really needed cell phone service. I’ve become increasingly addicted to the usefulness of my iPhone — probably the single-​most functional thing I’ve ever purchased. The big plan: move to Canada, start new cell service with the carrier that supports iPhone, and use it as an excuse to upgrade to the new iPhone 3G (s). We figured, since we only had a couple of months left on our AT&T contract, that we’d stop using our phones once we crossed the border (so as not to incur international roaming charges), and downgrade our account to the minimum possible — paying the penalty turned out to be less expensive (of course, I wasted an hour of my time talking with AT&T about this, before they finally told me that if I could prove I moved to a country where they don’t provide coverage, they’d waive the fees). The upshot: we had no phone coverage when we crossed the border.
The surprise: Apple didn’t ship enough iPhone 3G (s) units to Canada. Could not get them for love nor money. Each Rogers store got a few in at a time — one simply had to be lucky enough to show up when the phones did.
So I called a bunch of Rogers stores from the University (thanks to the kindness of my department administrators), and found a store that had a waiting list. I concluded my University run-​around (used a good deal of shoe leather, visiting the various departments that needed to see me), and drove out.
First impression: it’s a video store? Really? The young people behind the counter didn’t look or sound any different than video store employees back in the States. I suffer a pang of foreboding; would these people, probably paid minimum wage like the video store employees of past experience, be able to help me? Listening to one employee gripe about a customer call to the other, I wasn’t hopeful.
The young man who helps me (gads, that makes me sound old… but college-​age people these days are two decades younger than me, and look like little kids) had that shiny, perky salesperson manner. Better than sullen teenager, but it still made my eyeballs ache. Ah, corporate indoctrination.
Together, we tackle the problem of the phone. Obstacles: 1) I could only get the promotional (*ahem* affordable) pricing on the phone I wanted if I got it at the time I signed up for service (and I had no intention whatsoever of getting an inferior phone and waiting for two years to upgrade); 2) there are no iPhone 3G (s) units in Canada; 3) my SIM card in my original iPhone is locked; and 4) Rogers no longer unlocks SIM cards. Period. We won’t help you. Go away.
Okaaaaaaay… let’s try bundled home phone, internet, and cable, then? At least I’d have a phone that way, since Bell failed to come. Mr. Perky helps me pick out packages, bundles, blah blah blah ad nauseum. Asks for my ID — I whip out my passport, my Canada student permit, credit cards, Oregon driver’s license (can’t get an Ontario one, yet, as that branch of the DMV is on strike, Ontario-​wide). Mr. Perky doesn’t know what to do with the foreign passport numbers; asks me if I had a phone number? I smile poisonously, and say through gritted teeth that he was going to try to set me up with one, remember? He decides to call Rogers central, and have them authorize it. Walks around with the phone, arguing with them for quite a while. Then hangs up and matter-​of-​factly informs me that, since I don’t possess two forms of *Canadian* ID, they won’t authorize.
Just won’t. Period. More than $ 500, plus $ 150 per month, and you just *walk away from it*?! Any company that did that in the States would have been devoured by the circling sharks of the competition inside of a year. I suddenly wonder if I’ve been transported into an Ayn Rand novel. Who is John Galt?
I manage not to scream. I manage not to demand a refund of the two hours I just wasted. Mr. Perky apologizes profusely. I tell him, in clipped syllables, that this is, bar none, the most piss-​poor performance I have ever encountered in any experience with any company, ever. I suddenly have new insight as to the invariably disgruntled customers the Young People have been dealing with all afternoon.
I leave, determined never to give these rat bastards any of my money, ever.