New DVR remote = More efficient time wasting

One Sunday, my remote control stopped working. I felt confused, anxious and slightly nervous and after pacing around my living room for a little bit, I took the plunge and went down to my parents apt. As a temporary solution, the risk of finding them there was worth the reward of watching hours upon hours of mindless TV, or so I thought. I didn't have the TV on for more than 7 minutes before my mom came in and started asking me all sorts of questions including but not limited to why I didn't have a boyfriend, why I wasn't folding laundry while I watched TV, why my brother didn't book them a cheaper ticket to Orlando than our cousin did for our uncle, and why the guy who was just killed on LOST was still alive. Obviously I didn't know the answers to any of that but I did know this: I had to call RCN ASAP and get my own remote.

So on Monday the first thing I did when I got to the office was dial up RCN. All I wanted to know was where the RCN office was so I could hand in my broken remote and get a new one - hopefully the one with the specially shaped buttons to match the pictures on my screen. After spending 45 minutes punching in a series of numbers so the RCN phone system can locate me, some lady picks up and asks me for permission to record this conversation for quality control purposes [read: so we will have a recording of you when you verbally abuse our customer service associates]. Hastily, I reply yes. Afterall, all I really want is the address of the nearest RCN office. She proceeds to ask me for my address, my phone number, my date of birth, and what my very first pet's name was. I tell her that I just want to know where RCN is located, which she glosses over but not before asking me to start diagnosing the problem.

Me: I just need a new remote. Mine is broken.
Rep: How do you know it's broken?
Me: Well, I replaced the battery, and that wasn't it.
Rep: Ok, would you please turn your cable box off for one minute.
Me: I'm not at home.
Rep: Would you like to call back when you are at home?
Me: No, I just want to know where the nearest RCN is.
Rep: Miss we need to make sure the problem is with your remote.
Me: Well I know it's the remote, and not the cable box.
Rep: How do you know this, Miss?
Me: I used my parents' remote, and that worked fine.
Rep: Ok, Miss.
[typing]
[typing]
[typing]
Me: Hello?
Rep: Yes Miss.
Me: Um, can you just tell me where the RCN office here is??
Rep: Yes Miss.

So she tells me where it is, and then tells me that I need to bring a photo ID and 3 months worth of my RCN statements. Twice. For a remote control. Who are these people?

Needless to say, the next day, I brought my old remote in along with all my documentation. I even brought my birth certificate for good measure. This is how it went down. The lady that sits behind the glass panel saw me coming in and held out her hand. I pulled out my remote and slipped it under the panel. She took it and swapped it out for a brand new remote, complete with batteries, and those coveted buttons.

I am now on my couch happily watching endless reruns of Without a Trace.