It was a surreal feeling to mail that letter yesterday to Bluehost.com, especially having it addressed directly to their VP of Customer Service, Ben Lewis. I wonder how many letters he gets in the mail, aside from company correspondence and junk. When was the last time he actually had to tear an envelope open, unfold and read a letter from a customer?
I can imagine him sitting behind his desk and looking on with curiosity as someone delivers the letter to him by hand. I wonder what his reaction would be. I wonder if he’ll want to address the situation right away and maybe even call me up himself, or if he’ll roll his eyes, crack jokes with his co-workers about it, and tell someone else to write me some kind of canned, half-assed apology offering free premium hosting for a year or some other kind of candy to shut me up and make me go away.
Have you seen Bluehost’s About Us page? Have you seen all the smiling faces on their team? I wonder if they’ll still be smiling when they read my letter.
I’ll tell you one thing. If someone from Bluehost ever tells you to submit your complaints to email@example.com, it’s a waste of time. It’s been over a week since I sent an email to that address, and I haven’t received anything in reply; not even an automated response. This is why I resorted to writing an actual letter to the head honcho.
In the meantime, I wait. Patiently.
Well, it’s been a long time, to say the least. What, almost 6 years?
It’s a long story. Just so I don’t bore you to death with all the gory details, here’s what happened in a nutshell.
- I transferred my blog to Bluehost.com, sometime in 2010 I suppose, under the domain leftylimbo.com.
- From then on, my blog survived as its own, individual wordpress entity. Which was actually awesome, btw.
- Towards the end of 2014, I began to have less and less time to blog, and even less motivation to do so. I began to discover that social media was a much more immediate outlet for announcements, interactivity and conversations.
- On October 18, 2015, I received a notice from Bluehost that my hosting account had expired, and that I had 21 days to renew safely without losing data.
- On November 7, 2015 (20 days after the notice), I logged in to renew my site. To my surprise, all my data had been completely erased.
- After an infuriating, blood-boiling conversation with two utterly useless bluehost.com customer service representatives, I was left shit outta luck. My data was irretrievable, and no compensation nor explanation was given.
So, thanks to them, I lost over 5 years worth of blog content. I’m actually heading over to the post office right now to send a letter that’s addressed directly to their VP of Customer Service, Ben Lewis.
As I write this post, I find it incredibly ironic that this FREE wordpress.com site, which I hadn’t touched for at least 5 years, has survived, completely intact, with pictures, links and everything. In the meantime, the one I spent all my time and money on for the past 5+ years has disappeared with no clue to its whereabouts.
Thanks a lot, Bluehost.
I was hesitant to start all over again after this fiasco. But at least for now, it gives me a chance to vent. Thanks for listening.
The cool thing is, this has become my permanent blog. The sucky thing is, I exported (or, thought I exported) everything from my old blog and now noticed that I lost all my links in the sidebar. Dood.
Ah well. Time to refresh.
measured in minutes
’til that one special moment
where everything seems
a little brighter
mending loose ends
and the feeling
of a clean slate
It could be just any other day
but we celebrate it
like it’s a big deal
every day is special
anything can happen
It’s 6pm and 80+ degrees in Whittier. I’d realized I’d made a mistake wearing my brand new black Pepy’s Galley shirt in this heat, and it’s sticking to my chest and back with my own sweaty adhesive (sounds gross). I bought an Aquafina and finished it. I never finish my waters.
Yet afterwards, I make my way into Starbucks (yay, Wi-Fi), and I order a tall Sumatra. Hot, with no room for cream.
I guess I like my coffee.