This is a consumer alert.

The next time you feel abused, ignored, exploited or generally treated like a piece of useless dirt by some heartless billion-dollar, multinational corporation, do what Brian Perkins did.

Grab your computer keyboard and start pounding.

Perkins, 52, of Portland, found himself in a major crisis a few weeks ago, along with his wife, Lori.

They had just flown from Portland, where they live, to Berlin, Germany – the world headquarters of New Generation Network, an Internet marketing firm for which they both work. The 13-day trip was to be half-business, half-pleasure.

But two days in, something tragic happened.

Lori's ex-husband, Oz Holt of Westbrook, died suddenly. And Lori and Oz's two children – Michaela, 16, and Matthew, 12 – desperately needed their mother and stepfather. (They'd been staying with their father while their mother was in Europe.)

"We were stunned," Perkins said. Getting back to Maine and the kids as quickly as possible, he added, became the couple's "No. 1 priority."

Perkins, who has flown back and forth to Europe – always on Continental Airlines – at least two dozen times in the past few years, immediately called the airline to change their return date from June 29 to the next available flight out.

The customer service agent told him there were no open seats the next day (Friday, June 19), but she did have two seats on a flight going out Saturday.

"I'll take them," Perkins said.

"Wait, there's a problem," the agent told him. "They're a different code – your tickets are 'A' and these are 'J.' "

"Meaning what?" asked a frantic Perkins.

"The fares are different," she replied, explaining that he would have to abandon his previous return tickets and purchase the new ones outright.

"But I paid more than $5,000 for the (round-trip) tickets!" protested Perkins, who flies Continental so often that he's a member of its Platinum Elite club. "Please, please, we're talking about a death in the family here! Just give me the seats!"

Back and forth they went – Perkins explaining that they needed to be with the kids at least in time for the wake and funeral, the agent clicking away on her terminal – until finally, she relented.

"All right," she said. "I'm not supposed to do this, but I will. They're your tickets now. Go."

That Saturday morning, Perkins and his wife arrived at the airport and made a beeline for the Platinum Elite check-in. The agent there looked at her computer screen and summoned a Continental concierge, who told the couple they first had to go to the nearby ticketing counter.

Perkins asked why.

Because, replied the concierge, he needed to pay an "upcharge" for changing his tickets.

A few hundred bucks extra? Maybe $500 total?

Not exactly. Before they could board the airplane, they were told, they had to pony up $9,690. Which, after more fruitless debate, they did. Perkins figured they would get home first and deal with getting the money back later.

"Lori was hysterical," Perkins said. "She was standing there in tears."

(Adding insult to injury, Perkins watched at the ticket counter while two Continental employees strode up at the last minute and paid 20 euros each – about $28 – for seats on the same flight. Even worse, the flight took off with 18 seats still empty.)

And so it began.

Immediately upon landing in Newark, N.J., Perkins embarked on a dizzying effort to get his $9,690 – or at least some of it – refunded.

He pleaded to Continental staffers at the Newark airport. They sent him from terminal to terminal to a toll-free number "that won't be staffed until Monday."

After finally returning home and shepherding his wife and stepchildren through the wake and funeral, he spent days on the telephone pleading his case. Airline...