If someone asked you, "What's the worst company in the world?" I bet there are times when you'd answer, "Mine."

We all know the frustrations of our own companies, the things that look right on the outside but are a mess on the inside, promises unkept, malfunctions we can't seem to un-mal. And if we're the owner or boss, we feel the burden even more. Who's the worst? I yam.

Not any longer. I've long suspected that no matter how poorly my company has performed on any given day, there's one outfit out there that's done worse. Now I have proof. You can relax --  however bad you are, there's one that's far, far badder.

Meet the worst company in the world. Meet AT&T.

Every time I call AT&T about a problem with a bill, they want to speak to Louis. As Louis is an accountant, this would make sense, except that Louis The Accountant hasn't been with us for about four years. I've tried and tried to get AT&T to take Louis off the bill, and though they always assure me they've done so, each time I call, they say, "Is this Louis?"

Happened again last week. "No," I said, wearily. "Louis doesn't live here any more. Louis is skiing the French Alps. But never mind, let's just deal with the bill."

"No, no," said the nice AT&T lady. "I'm going to call Billing and get this straightened out."

"Please don't. I've tried nine times. Every time they say they will, and every time, they don't."

"I will stay on the line until Louis is off your bill, sir!"

And so she did. The process took roughly an hour and a half, but when it was over, I was convinced that Louis had finally been laid to rest. I'd conservatively spent six hours or more trying to inter poor Louis, but now he was in the ground. All was forgiven.

Then, on Sunday night, I lost my Internet service. Instead of the latest news from Google, I got an ominous message that read:

The Broadband Link
is Currently Not Available

I did the usual things. Quit Safari and restarted. Rebooted the computer. Unplugged and replugged the router. Called Patrick, the compumaven. Nothing worked. Then, first thing Monday morning, I called AT&T.

Kay answered. Finally. "You've been disconnected."

"Why? The bill's been paid. "It's not the bill."

"What is it?"

"There's not much detail. In fact, only one word."

"Kay, what's the word?"

"Supersebure."

What?"

To make sure I had it right, she spelled it. I didn't know what it meant. She didn't know what it meant. Her manual didn't say what it meant. Kay connected me with Billing. She said there would be a wait.

The wait was just under two hours. That gave me plenty of time to figure out what bad deed "supersebure" represented. Had I said something nasty about AT&T in print? Had some sleazebag accessed my computer for kiddy porn? What sin was so serious that it could only be described in Latin? I assumed it was Latin -- if it's English, it's not an English I know."

Finally, finally, Kay connects me with David. He's not quite as nice as she is, nor as patient, and I'm afraid he's gonna hang up on me, which will mean starting over and another two hours on hold and a real possibility of suicide.

"So what's up, David? What's supersebure?"

"It means we changed the name on your account."

"Yes,,,"

"So we had to disconnect your Internet."

"WHAT!"

"Yeah, when we change the name, we have to discon--"

"AND NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME?"

"Yeah, well...

"What time does my Internet service come back on?"

"Um, maybe Wednesday."

"Impossible. Appalling. It's not right. You know that."

"Can't do anything about it."

"David, this is... appalling. Let me talk to a supervisor. I need access now!"

"Nobody's gonna be able to make that happen for you."

How right he was. I spoke to supervisor Kelly who assured me that Wednesday was the earliest I could expect service restored. When I pointed out AT&T had failed to mention that changing a name on an account would mean service denied, she sounded a bit surprised but not terribly contrite. When I said, "Let's go back to Louis," she said it was too late for that. End of story.

When I asked if AT&T intended to charge me for my Internet-free days, they offered me a $50 rebate, accessible online. "In a month or so."

I've now squandered eight non-billable hours on the phone with the phone company, most of it spent on hold. Due to their astounding incompetence, I am without my main connection to the world. There is nothing they can or will do about it. As recompense, they are offering me 50 American dollars. In a month or so.

So. One day, when you're feeling low, when everything you do turns to merde, pull this article out of your desk drawer and re-read it. However badly you've messed up today, it can't be as badly as your friends at AT&T. There is that.

Oh, and I'd tell you the exact definition of "supersebure," only I can't access the online dictionary.

Jules & Effin Older are creators of the  iPhone app, San Francisco Restaurants.

julesolder.com