I've just sold my home in Massachusetts.
I tried to call Verizon, in Massachusetts, to have the phone disconnected.
The number that's on the Verizon website goes to Verizon Wireless. The brain-dead telephone response robot demanded to know my security PIN.
Again, and again, and again.
I didn't want to give it any excuse to disconnect my cell phone. I finally discovered that entering six zeroes, again and again and again, would get me to a human. The person I spoke to transferred me to a super-seecrit internal line that leads to the dungeon where the "wire side" trolls are cordoned off from the script kiddies in the oh-so-perfect-wireless-world. She assured me that there is no outside line that would provide me the privilege of accessing their extra- ordinary expertise by myself: I would, she said, always have to go through the number on the website.
I eventually wound up with a representative who took my order and provided a confirmation number in about five minutes.
There is, or should be, a special circle of hell for those who dictate that customers' time and energy aren't important to Verizon.
Oh, and if anyone in the 781 area code wants a number that spells "RUG RATS", call Verizon RSN. You can tell them that you had the number in your home when you were a kid: that's what worked for me back in 1988.
Bill