Broken Hoop, Broken Heart

Dear Huffy Sports,

How did it come to this? When I bought a basketball hoop from you ten years ago, we were the best of friends, two kindred souls indulging in our love of the game. You were so responsive to me, beckoning me with an attractive sale price, a wide eyed account representative and a product that would stand the test of time.

Now, flash forward to 2010 and you've finally responded to my calls and emails after a mere 47 days of waiting. All I needed was a replacement tank and wheel bracket, but you made me call you four or five times, forcing me to spend hours listening to "nails on a chalkboard" on hold music before either disconnecting me or sending me to the pits of voice mail hell. You tried to explain that you'd been bought out by Spaulding, but I thought that we had a bond that no merger or acquistion could break. We were buds....we were TIGHT.

Finally, you responded to me with a terse email telling me that you needed a product number...yes, that same product number I tried connecting with you on approximately two months ago. If only you had listened when I tried to tell you...

So, in the interest of full disclosure, I want to let you know what I've been able to achieve in the 47 days that you've spent trying to figure out how to plug in a computer and provide me with my latest ration of useless correspondence:

I led a humanitarian mission to Equatorial Guinea where I built three schools (without Oprah's help I might add), contracted malaria and died. Thankfully, a medicine man was able to conjure up spirits that were determined to help me rejoin the living. Santaria rocks!!

I recorded a clean rap CD that extolled the virtues of staying in school, supporting the police and respecting women - it sold three copies (two of them were family members and the third was my pastor).

I wrote a script for a sequel to "The Notebook" called "Plain Manila Folder." Strangely enough Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams are busy with other projects so we're casting Pauly Shore and that Octomom chick in their roles.

I had a side-by-side table massage with my good friend Al Gore while we discussed creating something called "the Internet." We really think that it's going to take off if we can get the government out of the way.

I wrote a new verse to the Canadian National Anthem that incorporates the "Ole Ole" chant. It's stellar.

I speared a 45 pound jellyfish at Wallis Sands and used its tentacles to braid my hair Jamaican style. Lots of people have been stopping me on the street saying, "Dig your cornrows dude" - holla, holla!

I created a new social networking site called "Bitter." You only get 100 characters to spin your tale of woe and dish the dirt on ex-spouses, management and that kid who stole your bike in 3rd grade- it's like Haiku poetry for the terminally pissed.

I sold my soul for rock & roll - just received a form letter saying that Marilyn Manson was coming to collect on the 31st, but I have a scheduling conflict, so we'll shoot for August.

So yes, retail salesperson of fine basketball goods, I've been quite busy. And while you were finally extricating yourself from the pile of correspondence from similarly discouraged customers, my brother-in-law was able to contact one of your co-workers and order the new part without incident. The lesson in all this? Keep a customer waiting for a day or two? Yes. 47 days? No. Rather than continue to maintain an ultimately unsatisfying relationship, I think I'm going to chase down that Top Hoops account rep and see what's doing the next time I need to wade into the murky waters of Huffy/Spaulding customer experience. In the meantime, just keep doing what you do well - throwing customer service airballs and sending emails long after the game is over.

Steve Boucher is a prolific three point shooter and certified "diaper shot" instructor. He likes cool breezes, warm hearts and long walks on concrete.