The Class v AOL Time Warner

"Class action." I’ve liked the sound of that for 30 years.

Early on, I joked to myself it meant what it says, action by the class. In America of course it means no such thing.

I was schooled by socialists that the courts are the enemy. I was handed xeroxed essays on workers and the legal system written by an obscure attorney in New York. Later I met Burt. He went to Yale law school but wore slippers in his office, which was rather like one of those smoky, crowded junk stores on Jos. Campau Street. Those stores are inviting, yet closer to weird after you enter. This was our legal guru. And a fine one, too.

Whoa, that’s all a digression. Today’s topic is AOL. They deserve a class action lawsuit. It’s a winner waiting to happen. And fun, too.

AOL won’t let you cancel your service. Ever.

Look I know corporations are bad. Burt knew it, and so do you. But usually they don’t operate like a street-corner shakedown thug.

Me v AOL

In June, Maggie canceled our AOL service. It was hard but she did it (so we thought). It was actually made easier, because just a week before, the media had exposed their scam. A reporter called to cancel, recorded the ensuing call, and printed the transcript. He was told over and over that he could not cancel.

AOL Time Warner, one of the largest corporations in the world, then responded swiftly to this situation: they fired the minimum wager who read their script to the reporter.

Maggie reminded the CSR (that’s what they’re actually called, and will be so referenced in our class action suit) of that story, as he was telling her all the reasons she could not cancel. But, after a long time and several beers, she did it.

Our AOL service stopped working. That told us that we had successfully escaped AOL. The future looked bright.

No such luck. Unbeknownst to us, AOL reinstated it shortly after. Clever, huh? We would never know, since of course we were not using AOL anymore.

Each month they took money from our credit card, and each month we contested it to Visa. After three months I demanded Visa refuse to pay them anymore. That’s when the nice Visa CSR taught me something: "Once a merchant gets your number, they can use it anytime. Your only recourse is to cancel your credit card." Inviting, but too much like losing.

It was time to call AOL again. Of course a persistent CSR tried to lead me in circles. I reduced my end of the dialogue to one word sentences: "Cancel!" After 30 minutes on the phone, "Douglas" (all over India people are saddled with aliases like "Douglas" and "Nelson," names that sound like they've time-traveled back to the British Raj. Shouldn’t a few be Mack, Betty, or even Butch?) gave me a "confirmation number."

Meanwhile, Maggie did the impossible. Over 1000 people have summited Mt. Everest, but nobody has ever obtained an actual fax number or address for AOL. Try it sometime, if you have several hours to waste, like if you get sentenced to life-with-internet-access.

I faxed them a letter demanding a full refund. I believe, deep in my heart, that this is the first and only time anyone has ever faxed AOL such a letter.

I may not be the best plaintiff. Because, as of this moment, and trust me I don’t consider it permanent – we are ahead of AOL Time Warner. It turns out they actually did refund our credit card, in response to the fax. The guy or gal at the fax, like the Maytag Repair Man in those 1960s ads, never had anything to do, then finally got one, and snapped into action.
And, since we already contested all the payments, we have a double refund. Yeah right...AOL still has our credit card number.

I posted my tale on a site with a name like ripoffreport.com, where there are loads of identical AOL stories.

When I posted it, I checked a box that said "I authorize giving out my name to attorneys filing a class action lawsuit." Surely all the AOL posters clicked that box, with the enthusiasm that generates an audible clack coming from the mouse.

I’m ready to be contacted. It’s time for action of the class.