Shannon Whitley

I walked into a Sprint store today, set to buy a new phone and sign my life away for another two years.  I’ve been a supporter of Sprint, even though they’ve had the worst selection of phones and are constantly ridiculed as that “other” cell phone company.  I even had a great experience with the Sprint service this weekend when we were hiking in the forest, surrounded by redwoods, and my wife’s phone still delivered a strong, clear signal.

This phone purchase was spontaneous.  I’ve been thinking about a new phone for some time, but I didn’t have any plans to lay down my money today.  But the weather was warm and I went for a walk; the path ended inside the Sprint store with me reaching for my wallet.  Luckily, Sprint has several Anti-Sales™ techniques in place to prevent people from making a quick phone purchase.

The sales reception was lukewarm.  They didn’t glare at me, but they certainly didn’t look all that happy to see me.  If you were the number 4 (or 5 or 6) carrier in the market, wouldn’t you get excited whenever a new prospect walked in the door?  Still, I was ready to buy.  I asked the sales rep if we could sit down and talk about the different services plans.  I gave him my phone number and he entered it into a terminal.  He then asked me for my PIN.  I was pretty sure that neither my wife or I knew our PIN, even if we had set one up.  He also said that I could answer a security question, something about my favorite sports team.  Again, this wasn’t something we’ve ever configured.  I told him that I didn’t know the answers to either of his questions.  He looked at me with a blank stare.  Since my wife was the primary person on the (family) account, there was nothing he could do.

By this time, my spontaneity was seriously losing its edge.  I made a half-hearted attempt, telling him that I was ready to buy a phone today.  He confirmed that my wife would have to come down and show some identification.  He was apologetic, but after all, he explained, I could be an estranged husband trying to mess with my wife’s phone bill (even though I had just called her on my Sprint phone to see if she had any idea what our PIN was).

So, I left the store phoneless.  It was probably a good thing.  I didn’t need to buy a phone today.  Thanks for the help, Sprint. 

One problem though, if I start feeling spontaneous tomorrow, that walk just might lead me to the Verizon store.  I’m pretty sure I don’t know my PIN there either, but maybe their sales people will be a bit more helpful.