In addition, at the bottom of every review, we feature opinions from CNET users, a vocal group who regularly comment on the quality of service they're getting. Between our editorial research and user feedback, we present a pretty accurate picture of the way most tech companies are treating their customers. Indeed, as product specifications and pricing converge, companies are finding that superior service is becoming increasingly important.

So imagine my dismay when I stumbled on a communications company that seems determined not to communicate with its customers. I don't want to unduly prejudice anyone against the company, so I won't give you its name, just the initials: MCI. MCI WorldCom, to be precise. For the sake of this article, let's call them MisCommunication Inc. My travails began a few months back when, without warning, I tried to make a long-distance call from New York back to my office in San Francisco.

Instead of a completed call, I got a recording informing me that such an activity was not permitted on my calling plan. Great. Phoneless in Manhattan. I had always been able to make long-distance calls before, so I resolved to call the MisCommunicators as soon as I was back on the West Coast. The next day, I began calling, and calling, and calling. Nothing but busy signals, though once I did get through to a recorded message assuring me that my call would be answered shortly. Twenty minutes of "easy" listening later, I heard a click. I'd been disconnected. After two days, I gave up. I use the phone almost exclusively for local calls anyway. I vowed not to renew my service plan when the year was up and went about my business. Then, last week, tragedy struck: Somewhere in the bottom of a backpack, my cell phone encountered a not fully closed bottle of water.

Motorola StarTAC phones, it turns out, don't swim. The horror, the horror. I had to get back on the horn to the MisCommunicators to get a new phone.I'll condense my tale of woe just a bit. Day one was a bust. Nothing but busy signals, although I only called about five times. On day two, my wife volunteered to give it a try. Within an hour, she was talking to a customer service rep, who told her that replacing the phone would be easy, but resolving the no-roaming problem would be trickier. She urged my wife to go to the Web site to view details of all the service plans offered and call back later. Big mistake. After checking the site, my wife tried to call back again and again, but without success. My turn. Day three was promising.

The number listed on my phone bill proved useless (busy signals or recorded messages asking you to call back later are the norm), but a check of the Website yielded a different number for customer service. After less than two hours and fewer than 20 attempts, I got a ring. Thirty minutes on hold later, a highly apologetic man explained that he couldn't handle my call because he was in the national office, which, as of May 1, no longer dealt with California accounts. He gave me a different number and wished me good luck. I would need it. After a few hours, the new number worked. I was on hold again, being assured that my call was important and might be monitored for quality assurance purposes.

For the second time that day, a real live human eventually picked up the phone. I explained the problem, and she offered to put me on hold to check my account. More music, more recordings assuring me of the importance of my call, and finally a new, ominous recording: "Our offices are currently closed; please call back during regular business hours. " I let out a howl of anguish, and two co-workers came running into my office to see if I'd just had my hard drive wiped clean by a virus. Worse, I explained. I've been sparring with customer service. Day four brought more of the same. The man I finally reached toward late afternoon couldn't help me; the account was in my wife's name, he said, and she'd have to do the dirty work. I let loose with an inappropriately worded tirade; through it all he stayed polite and even apologetic. And when I bellowed something like, "Do you have any idea how useless you *&%$*@s are?" he admitted that they got lots of complaints; they simply didn't have enough staff. "But youcalled us every day for a week when you were trying to get us to sign up for the service," I anguished. "That's a different group," he explained. Aaargh. Evidence of my wife's experience is strictly hearsay, since it didn't happen to me. But by now, I had figured out I had a column to write. So I asked her to take notes. On day five, she waited a few hours before hitting pay dirt. When the customer service rep announced he'd have to put her on hold, my wife pleaded with him not to.

No such luck: She was put on hold, and, in time, disconnected. That pattern kept repeating itself over the next week: Putting callers on hold or transferring them to another department seems to be this company's way of hanging up on people. Her frustration mounted. She kept calling, kept wading through busy signals, and kept being given different numbers to try. She was caught in a Kafkaesque phone bureaucracy: whenever she could actually talk to someone, that person invariably couldn't handle her account.

One rep, obviously transposing digits somewhere, gave her an 800 number that turned out to be what's euphemistically called a "dating service." I'm not making this up; I promise. In my wife's final encounter with a human being at MisCommunication Inc, she talked to a woman named Beatrice. Appropriate, since Beatrice was the beloved of Dante, whose detailed descriptions in "The Inferno" resonate with the damned souls trapped in phone support Hell.

Beatrice gave my wife a new number to try-the original one on our phone bill. What do you know, the very same one with the perpetual busy signal. We officially gave up. What might you, the reader, learn from my misery? First off, that service, when you need it, is as important as the technology it supports. Whether you're buying a computer, a piece of software, or a phone plan, try to gauge the responsiveness of customer support. At the bottom of CNET's reviews, we offer user opinions. Check them out, since they provide valuable first-person experience from real customers. (Our wireless channel just launched, at http://wireless.cnet.com/, so user reviews are still a bit sparse; look for them to bulk up quickly.) If there's a customer service number, call it before you buy, just to make sure someone answers.

And for some specifics on phone plans, look into "5 Tips for Picking the Right Minute Plan" (http://2.digital.cnet.com), which outlines some general strategies you might employ. As for me, I have no more time to waste. I can't reach anyone to get a new phone. I can't even reach anyone to disconnect the service. When the phone bill comes, I will simply write a note outlining the situation, further explaining that I have no intention of paying my bill until the problem is resolved. Something tells me I'll be getting a phone call very soon.

Steve Fox is editor, CNET Online