Chapter 1: The Initial Call

Dear AT&T,

As I previously mentioned, my father passed away just before Christmas 2019. A few weeks later, I contacted you regarding his AT&T account that he had set up for my apartment in Florida while I was living abroad. He managed the payments through checks drawn from my account. My aim was to automate the payments and transfer the account into my name.

I assumed this process would be straightforward since I wasn’t changing addresses, and the bank account was my own.

After being placed on hold and transferred multiple times, I finally spoke with someone who claimed she could assist me. She requested the PIN number, which I didn’t have. She suggested I guess, so I tried my father's birthday, my own birthday, and even the combined birthdays of his three children.

She then instructed me to visit an AT&T corporate store and advised me to bring along his death certificate. I explained that I lived in London and had never encountered an AT&T store there. She suggested I attempt to access the account online.

Unfortunately, my father never documented anything—no PINs, passwords, or even the name of his first-grade teacher or childhood pets.

I was convinced his favorite restaurant was Testa's, where we celebrated his 90th birthday with family and friends. However, it could have also been Green's, where we enjoyed burgers and chocolate milkshakes since I was five, or Toojay's, known for those delicious black and white cookies he adored.

It turned out to be none of those places, and after three attempts, I found myself locked out of the account.

Section 1.1: Attempting to Resolve the Issue

I called back and spoke to a kind representative whose name I wish I remembered. She expressed sincere condolences for my father's passing. I explained that I should have taken care of the account transfer long ago, but my father, in his 90s, enjoyed managing the expenses and our chats about housekeeping. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop; it felt like admitting I didn’t think he would always be around.

This compassionate employee managed to bypass the usual protocols, allowing me access to the account to automate payments. The account would remain in my father's name, but I would receive email notifications for the bills. I was incredibly grateful for her help.

However, I made a misstep. It was Christmas, two years after my father's death, and the first time I had been to Florida since the pandemic began. I figured it would be a good idea to visit an AT&T corporate store to finalize everything. Although I had online access and automatic payments set up, I could not put services on hold while I was away, resulting in a $100 monthly bill for an empty apartment.

So, there I was at the corporate store, death certificate in hand, while my family enjoyed time at the beach. When it was finally my turn, the store manager informed me that the agent who had sent me there was mistaken. I couldn’t change the account in person; I needed to call AT&T instead.

Distraught and feeling like I was back at square one, I may have had a moment of frustration. However, an agent noticed me and offered assistance. We spent the next hour trying to resolve the issue.

But the solution was short-lived. Upon returning home, I discovered I could no longer access the account. While still on vacation, I called again and spoke to three different representatives before finally reaching someone who seemed competent. I was so relieved that I believed her when she assured me everything was sorted out. I felt joyful enough to skip off to the beach.

But upon returning to London, I realized she hadn’t mentioned a verification step that required a U.S. phone number. Once again, I found myself on hold with you, racking up charges at 50p per minute. Eventually, I hung up in frustration.

Time passed, and I tried to ignore the $100 monthly bill. Still, I found comfort in receiving emails addressed to my father, as if he were still with us.

Subsection 1.1.1: A Change of Heart

One dreary day in London, I resolved to tackle this issue once and for all. While on hold, I had an epiphany: Did I even need AT&T?

I realized that I didn’t require a landline in Florida (I had a cell phone), nor did I need the cable service (I had Roku). All I really needed was broadband, which could easily be fulfilled with a plug-in device during my visits.

So, I decided to cancel the service entirely. But of course, your representative informed me that I couldn’t cancel because the account wasn’t in my name.

At that moment, I couldn’t help but laugh—or maybe it was a mix of laughter and tears. It seemed that AT&T had driven me to the brink of insanity. I may have startled your representative, and I apologize for that. Strangely enough, I felt better afterwards, even though I found myself back where I had started.

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Surprise

Last April, while in Florida, I discovered a letter from you. It expressed gratitude to my deceased father for switching to a new account and included a gift card with the balance from the old account. Confused yet delighted, I took my daughter to Toojay’s, where the waitress didn’t bat an eye when I paid with a gift card in a man's name. We ended the meal by ordering those black and white cookies my father loved and raised a toast to his memory. That moment truly was special. Thank you, AT&T!

Eventually, you finally managed to transfer the services into my name. Shortly after, I put them on hold. I’m relieved to have this chapter behind me, but there are days when it feels like we’ve lost touch entirely.

Sincerely yours,

Stephanie Gruner Buckley

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