Edition 28: "Help!"
Good morning Negative Soundbyters! Phew the relaxed vibes of the long weekend are already a distant memory having first navigated Southern Rail to Gatwick and then the bedlam that is half term at a terminal that currently resembles a very large crèche. I commented in a previous post how Gatwick was basically a taxi rank with about a gazillion people all trying to get to Tenerife and Magaluf; throw in another gazillion children – and well, it’s an experience not for the faint hearted. I am supposed to be heading off on a business trip; I was very tempted to take up position in the bar and order a G&T just to take the edge off – like a lot of other passengers are doing. Pints at 8:30 in the morning do wonders for the constitution! Er…..
Talking of pints….
I have discovered that trying to put up a curtain pole with a serious babelas (or hangover in UK terms) under the watchful gaze of Mrs H’s pregnant and very beady eye is a task that should not have been left to the Accountant in the family. As Mrs H cheekily posted on Facebook, it has taken me about four weeks to get it erected – this after having to get my electrician to do me a favour by drilling the holes as my drill didn’t have enough oomph to get through the masonry. (It’s possible that I had it on the wrong setting, but a quick check of the internet confirmed that it was down to the tool and not the ineptitude of the user this time!). After several false starts, a few choice words and the raised eyebrow, it was up – not perfectly straight mind you, but if it’s good enough for me, then it will be good enough for Hoddy Junior. (At some point he will see the curtain as something to grab – and possibly even use as a swing; I hope I will be there to catch him!)
Anything of geopolitical importance to report:
May-hem and Jezza were on the box last night fielding questions from an audience and then from Jeremy Paxman, the hard-hitting host of Question Time. Jezza is a big fan of the IRA and Hamas, but is basically anti-war (which is fair enough) but when JP asked him if he would authorise a drone strike on a suspected terrorist (say the mastermind of the Manchester bombing – my example) and he had a 20 minute window, he offered a mealy-mouthed response in “needing to assess all the evidence”. Now of course if he is hiding out in Moss Side (that’s in Manchester for my international readers) then there is no need to launch a Hellfire missile, but if he is hiding out in a cave in Libya – it’s gotta to be a green light! You can imagine The Donald’s approach to this scenario:
Intel Officer “Sir, we have new intel that puts the Ahmed the Bomb Maker in Moss Side.”
The Donald: “Drone Strike authorised. In fact launch some Tomahawks.”
Intel Officer: “But Sir, Moss Side is in Manchester. That’s not likely to go down well with our allies.”
The Donald: “Launch those goddamn missiles. Let’s make America Great Again.”
Intel Officer: “Er Sir…Manchester is in the UK…”
The Donald: “I am the Boss, God damnit! Those Evil Losers must pay. Launch!”
Intel Officer: “Sir, I must protest…..”
The Donald: “You’re fired!”
May-hem arrived at the studio in bright orange as she sets a new direction for the Tory party; however she seems to be constantly doing U-turns on key policies and I question whether she has a clue what direction that is!
Enough politicking; let’s move on with this week’s anecdote…
Big love.
Hoddy x
“Help” Lines.
I am not sure that this is the appropriate term for about the world’s most irritating task; trying to get “help” from somebody earning about a pound a week in a call centre (usually based in India) on why my telephone says “Check Phone Line” or why my SKY TV pops up with my favourite message “No Satellite Signal. Check Box.”
The first challenge is trying to locate a number to call. Usually it’s buried deep in the provider’s website because basically they don’t want you to call them. They would prefer that you did not interact with another human to work out your problem. Better that you navigate pages of trouble shooting (and still be none-the-wiser) or if that doesn’t work, get on a webchat and type out your conversation, because people like me can apparently type much quicker than speaking the words?!*%^! (Webchat is for spotty teens who last had a conversation with somebody in….well…never…hence the need for this mode of communication.)
Once you have the number in your grubby paw, it’s then the myriad of options that you encounter.
“1 – for billing enquiries. 2 – for technical enquiries. 3 – to arrange an engineer 4. To cancel an engineer…….100 – any other queries.”
Usually none of the options is the one I need and therefore I have to wait for the catch-all option which is usually the last in the list! And then that bumps you into the next cascade of options…and so it goes until finally the hallowed words:
“You will now be put through to our next available operator. However we are experiencing high call volumes so it will take 15 minutes to answer your call. You are number 20 in the queue.”
At this point my grip on the handset has tightened to a point where my knuckles are white and veins are beginning to pulsate across my brow. But I breathe and think soothing thoughts…
Finally:
Operator in a bright and breezy Indian accent: “Good afternoon Sir. It’s Piri here at Virgin. How are you today?”
Me trying to speak through gritted teeth: “ Piri I am fine thanks. Look, I have a problem with my phone…it says Check Phone Line.”
Piri: “May I call you Chris?”
Me: “Sure, no problem – look about my line..”
Piri: “Chris, before we continue I am going to ask you for some characters in your account password…that ok”
Me: “Fine” (Me now frantically trying to recall the effing password amongst the billion others I have for things like this”)
Piri: “Can I please have the first, second and fourth characters…”
Me: “Er…I think it is….F….O……2….”
Piri: “Chris I am afraid that does not match our records….”
My grip on receiver ever tightening. Blood rushing like the Zambezi.
Me: “Ok Piri….and…”
Piri as bright as ever: “What we can do Chris is reset your password but before we do that I am going to have to ask you some security questions…”
Me breathing, but really wanting to tear down the phone and shout loudly at Piri…
Me: “Ok Piri…”
And so we get through the security questionnaire and finally reset the password…
Me: "Fox10! EF OOOOO EXXXX ONE ZERO Exclamation Mark…”
Piri: "So that’s Foxtrot, Oscar, Ex…One Hundred…”
Me: “Er No….EF, OOOOOO, EX….ONNNEEEEEEE…..”
Piri: “So Chris that’s Foxtrot, Oscar, x-ray….”
Me wondering why Piri is breaking into language reserved for the Special Forces targeting those evil losers in Moss Side.
Me through what teeth I have left: “Piri – look it is FOX10!”
Piri: “Got it Chris, thanks so much for your patience…”
Me: “So about my phone line…”
Piri: “Chris can you please turn it off at the wall for me……”
And so the dance continues around diagnostic checks and me running around like a blue arsed fly turning devices on-and-off until finally we get to what I wanted when my blood pressure was normal, my tone was light and I was enjoying life:
“Let’s arrange for an engineer to come and sort out your problem.”
That then leads into another set of issues around the scheduling of the visit; but at this stage I am just thankful that an expert will be attending to my problem! Success….
I have rambled on for far too long! Let’s leave it there….
OUT!
Pic of the Week:
I like this pic; you can just make out her red scarf! And her dog is a lot happier than I was on the telephone to Virgin!