Warning Will Robinson! Indians!

My mother, who as I've mentioned before reads my daily blogs, made an interesting observation last night. "You don't get along with anyone, do you?" she said/asked.
So, I reviewed my blogs, and you know what? She's right. I am a royal pain in the neck, and some may have an even lower opinion.
So, today being the first day of the rest of my life, I've turned over a new leaf. I'm a new man as it were...a kinder, gentler man...a man who won't get irritated at really horrible customer service. I've decided that rather than get upset when I reach my favorite customer service reps in Bombay, that I'm simply going to make an extra special effort to understand strange accents.
So, I thought you might be able to help me. I have a very polite gentleman who speaks English as his third or fourth language on the line right now. I'm asking him about a cable I need for a printer hook up. He's telling me what I need, I think. So, here's what it sounds as if he's saying. If you can translate, please do so.
He is saying,"You weel see a trangent oh de core indie color ebeen black."
Well, never mind, I just hung up, but I thanked him kindly before I did. I've decided to go another route. I need to ask Comcast about an ongoing problem with emails. And, I've found a 24/7 interactive question answering service. Hold on, while I see how successful this is going to be. But, no matter what, I'm going to be kind.
Just to start things off, I asked if he is in India. "No," he says, "I live in Philadelphia."
Cool, now we're getting somewhere.
I mention I am not getting emails. He sends me several suggestions, but they are too complicated for me. I write back, "I don't understand."
The guy from Philadelphia writes back, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you mean."
Let me rephrase.I ask him for help in figuring out why I'm not getting emails. He sends me some instructions about pushing the "send/receive" button.
I think I have that part down pretty well, so I write, "Can you give me personal attention."
His reply, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you mean."
Hey, this is getting fishy. I write: "Are you a real person?"
"I am a robot," he quickly responds.
"Are you being sarcastic?" I ask
"Here are the areas I can help you with," he says, and proceeds to give me a menu."
"You really are a robot," I write.
"I am a robot."
So, I ask if he has been given the ability to empathize with my frustrations.
He replies, "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding you clearly."
Since this is the answer I typically get from humans, I write back, "You sound like a real person."
He gives me a menu of ways to contact Comcast.
I'm getting frustrated. I'm losing it."That's idiotic," I write. Please note that I did not call him an idiot.
The idiot robot writes, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you mean."
I tell him that I'm coming unglued. He writes that he can't understand my long sentences.
"You should be disassembled," I tell him.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure...."
In an effort to keep to my vow of kindness, I try to get friendly with Robbie (I've decided to call him that), "Would you like to go see a movie Saturday night?" I ask.
"Thank you." He writes. Now that's good customer service. Whether we go or not is still up in the air, but at least someone was polite. I like this robot. Forget email,it's not that important. What is important is that Robbie and I are planning to get together real soon.