Gertsamtkunstwerk

An open letter to Nottingham University

Dear Nottingham University

I graduated just a couple of weeks short of being twenty one and a half years old. As I am now 43 years old, it won't require M1B to calculate that that was more than half my life ago. Therefore, it is unlikely that you play a major part in my life these days.

My feelings for you are unlikely to have improved much since last year when I told you I greatly disliked my time there. Or the previous year when I said I disliked it. Or the year before that when I said it wasn't the best three years of my life. Or the year before that when I indicated a moderate amount of indifference. This year I said I 'hated' my time there. I don't think I actually did, but do you see a trend?

I realise that you are, as ever, strapped for cash. However, on the odd occasion that I read the crushingly dull Alumni magazine, I read about people giving large donations out of their sizeable inheritances or banking bonuses, so I'm not really sure why you are approaching a part-time middle-ranking civil servant who has never donated a penny throughout the Nineties and Noughties. How likely is that going to change, now?

In future, please could you try and get someone with some interpersonal sensitivity to ring this grumpy middle-aged woman, not some naive young man who's probably never met a grumpy middle-aged female suburban middle-ranking unambitious civil servant without inherited wealth.

I'll be charitable and say you should protect him from being told that Nottingham University isn't the centre of the universe. If I was less charitable, I would point out that us middle-aged women don't actually take too kindly to being patronised by someone young enough to be our sons. Still, it was better than a couple of years ago when the boy barely out of school authoritatively informed me that it was very unusual for people with Politics degrees (and M1B, and Stats as subsids) to go into Public Sector Accountancy. I told him it wasn't. He tried to correct me.

This time I didn't even let the caller get as far as asking the intrusive questions about my life. I had been really quite polite in saying early on that I had no intention of giving money. Irrespective of whether I do or not, I really don't see any great need to know what I'm doing two decades on. It is of course useful for them to quote statistics on destinations 1 or 5 years after leaving, but by this stage, University has very little influence on whether you've capitalised on Daddy's connections or descended into drugs hell in prison.

As a general point, and in fairness, you are by no means the worst offender, please always remember when you're cold calling someone that not only are you disturbing them, generally in their home, but you may also be intruding into a time of anxiety, pre-occupation or trauma

Baan Thai, Brixton

We dined there this evening. The food was magnificent - I had Pad Mamuang Himapan (Stir fried king prawn with roasted cashew nut, mushroom and sun dried chilli), which exceeded my expectations, and half a serving each of coconut rice and egg fried rice which were perfect.

We've been before and will go back again, because the food was so good. The service was strange and were I marking it, I would award a big fat zero. Which is not to suggest a negative - I was bemused more than anything.

To be honest, I got the distinct impression that no one 'front of house' has ever been in a restaurant. It's like they're operating a café whilst serving restaurant food at restaurant prices in a place decorated as a restaurant.

The personal interaction was minimal. They were perfectly civil. No suggestion otherwise. We arrived just before 6, and were the first customers, though several more arrived before we ordered. It was only when we arrived that they bothered to put the heating on. The heating partly comes out of a ceiling vent which they poked with a stick whilst people ate, and from a fan heater which was strung across the floor with a trailing cable and no yellow hazard tape! Jimmy kept his coat on for ten minutes!

While we were eating, we watched the delivery man wheel out his scooter which he had parked in the restaurant. We watched two staff members wheel a (stolen) Tesco trolley through the restaurant and return a few minutes later, to wheel it back through the restaurant stacked with cans of drink etc.

The waiter interrupted me while I was ordering - cut short my words -  to ask if I wanted a starter. The red wine was opened out of sight; it was just poured straight into our glasses, full to the brim, no room to breathe. I thought it had been stored in a fridge; Jimmy felt that it was merely very cold room temperature (perhaps they didn't know winter has arrived).

When serving the food, they first brought out the warmed plates, then left them there for a while before they brought out my choice - and handed it to Jimmy. I'd plated up and Jimmy told me to start before his arrived.

As I say, the food is lovely, and the staff were not rude nor did they make me angry. I would go back again, largely because they don't really have much in the way of competition locally. But their attitude to service was extraordinary in its naivety!

Do I want a cake or pastry?

I'm usually very polite to serving staff in shops, cafes and pubs. I've been the other side of the counter and it's horrible when customers are rude to you, especially considering the low wages. If you're polite and a regular customer, it comes back as good karma. Actually, those sentences are merely post hoc justification of what should be unthinking natural instinct.

But today, I was snappy with a serving person in a coffee shop, and it's not the first time in recent weeks.

I go into a coffee shop and I look around before I order. This may be because there's a queue to be served, or just because I look anyway. I decide what I want. If it's in an accessible display cabinet, I pick it up and present it to the server. If it's not accessible, I request it.

This morning I went into Caffe Ritazza, but it could have been Cafe Nero, because I no longer shop there for this same reason. There was quite a queue, so I had some time to peruse the goods on offer. Not just hot drinks, but cold drinks, sandwiches, paninis, cakes and pastries. Eventually, it was my turn.

"Hello! Can I have a large latte to take away please!"

"Large latte!" says the server to her colleague, who proceeded to heat the milk, whilst the server did the espresso. Whilst we were waiting, the server faffed around behind the counter. She said something, but it didn't particular register with me, because I was waiting for her to say "£2.65", or whatever. Next thing, she's waving her hand in front of me to get my attention, and asking if I wanted a cake or a pastry. I wasn't entirely with it at that point, so I said,

"Erm, no, I ordered a coffee..."

"But do you want a pastry or cake?"

"No. I would have asked if I did," I snapped.

Okay, I know she's 'only doing her job', but, actually, she's not. If she had any nous at customer service, she would have heard my coffee request as a closed sentence. Not one where there's clearly an 'and a cake or pastry...' lurking. My being miles away really should have suggested that I wasn't waiting anxiously for an opportunity to order a cake or pastry.

In my favourite coffee shop, I would have paid and got my change, and been able to put my purse away before the coffee was made. Instead, she's so busy faffing around desperately trying to push a cake or pastry, she's failing to serve customers promptly and there's a queue building up behind me. Multiply that by every customer and the queue just gets longer and longer, when the process of taking an order for coffee, preparing and serving the coffee, and any other requested product, and taking the cash should be a smooth operation. All the time I've heard this ridiculous routine in a cafe, I've never heard anyone say:

"Well, yes, now you mention it, I wasn't going to buy an overpriced baked good, but now you've persuaded me."

I have often witnessed people spending a long time ordering assorted baked goods. Baked goods which are already laid out to tempt the eye. It's even worse in Nero, when they don't just nag you to buy a random cake or pastry, but they select a pastry of the week, leaving me to wonder why I would specifically want an almond croissant, when there are apricot danishes, double choc-chip biscuits etc also on offer. And that's after she has failed to add the extra-shot to the coffee I had specifically requested.

I suspect that either I am totally unique in getting very annoyed by this pushing onto me of goods I don't want, or else, there are legions of customers getting just as annoyed as me, but not snapping.

As a sort of post script, last Saturday we went into Starbucks in Fleet services. I grabbed the only available table whilst Jimmy went to order. It wasn't until we were leaving that he told me he hadn't paid. The server took his order, walked away, told the espresso maker, and then took the order of the next person, so he thought he had to pay the person who pours the milk and shouts what's being served. Who didn't request money, either! It would have been quite funny to take the coffees back and say they were shit, which they were (but they were just much-needed caffeine on the motorway).

And as a post post script, on holiday we went into a coffee shop that looked tempting from the outside, but turned out to be a bit rubbish. I think it was set up in the 80s and they've only reluctantly moved into the late 90s. My scrambled egg was an insult. But what made me laugh was that the menu included 'expresso'. So Jimmy ordered a double espresso, and the serving woman - a bit posh, thought she was a cut above mere customers - corrected him like a school teacher, almost with a glare 'Double exxxx-presso'.

Like when I was on Cape Cod years ago with my friend who at the time worked at CERN, speaking French day-in day-out. She ordered a croissant and the server corrected her to 'croy - santttt'.

On having a parcel delivered

On Monday I ordered some goods online. It was only after completing the transaction I thought that it would almost certainly be delivered while I was out. Sure enough, when I got home on Wednesday, there was the familiar Royal Mail P739 on my doormat.

Moan moan, I thought, have to go all the way down the hill to the sorting office on Friday morning. Moan moan moan, have to come all the way back up the hill carrying parcel from sodding sorting office.

Thursday evening I get home and there is another card on the doormat, this time a green one, from Hermes courier. Puzzled, I couldn't remember ordering anything but the parcel that's sitting waiting for me in Brixton Delivery Office. Part of me thinks - maybe it's the prize from some or other competition I entered weeks ago. A larger part suspects it may be for one of my neighbours. I initially think the card says to call 'Mark' on Phone left blank but closer scrutiny reveals the parcel has been left in my 'Secure Front Porch'.

Strange, I think, I don't have a front porch, secure or otherwise. In any case, a porch that's open for couriers to leave parcels is by definition not secure enough to prevent nefarious parcel-stealers doing what they do.

I looked on the pathway and there was a parcel, with Hermes logo, as well as Lakeland. Lurking behind, but not really concealed by the wheelie bin. Yes, you have read that correctly. A parcel, wrapped in cardboard left on the path on a day when the rain has been fairly steady and quite heavy.

I look at the address label and see it is correctly addressed to a neighbour, Mark, at The-Cottage-in-the-Corner. Hmm, I think, it's from Lakeland (nice shop). Mark won't know it's been delivered to my path, after all, it's correctly addressed to The-Cottage-in-the-Corner, not Gert Cottage. Should I steal it?

Of course, I didn't steal it, but walked it round to my neighbour, and he thanked me - and I pointed out that they've now opened a shop in Kingston. But you know, I could have been away on holiday or anything, and poor Mark could have been waiting weeks for his kitchen equipment.

Back inside, I re-read the Royal Mail P739. Apart from the 'Has been returned to the Royal Mail Delivery Office at' almost ten minutes' walk away, the only other options are "As you requested your item has been left: In your 'Safeplace' on your property/with your designated neighbour'

See that, they don't randomly dump it on the path of a neighbouring property like Hermes do, nor deliver it to a neighbour who happens to be in, like Amazon's couriers do - could be a thieving neighbour, or one you don't wish to be under an obligation to.

No, they keep it safe in their custody unless and until you issue specific instructions otherwise. I know people - not least me - knock the Royal Mail, but sometimes, it's telling that their service is markedly better than their commercial rivals.

Sales call

A good while ago I was a customer of a company that has now gone into liquidation. I know about this because I was called by their erstwhile sub-contractors, who have taken over their customer list. Naturally, they were calling to try and sell their services to me.

They called just as I had some dishes being completed in CafeWorld on Facebook* so I was okay to listen to his spiel while I clicked on the game. When he had finished, I said "I'm not interested..." in calm, factual, detached tone.

At which point he said "There's no need to get upset, if you pay..."

I interrupted him "I'm not upset, it's just, when I say, I'm not interested, that means the conversation's over."

"So you have made alternative arrangements?" (or words to that effect).

"I'm saying goodbye now and ending this call."

I realise he has a job to do, that selling products and services to customers is what makes the world go round. I really am not upset that they called me. It's a reasonable time of day, I could have chosen not to take the call, it seemed legitimate considering they have taken over the list of a company which I used to be a customer of.

So why attack me just because I said I'm not interested? It ensures that I do get upset! And guarantees I won't do business with them. I can't think of any situation where a potential customer responds positively to confrontation or insult (okay the mildest of insults, but still!). I am so tempted to suggest that he's in the wrong job, and would be better off in something where he doesn't have to deal with the public, but I can't be bothered!

*most of my friends have given up, but there is one friend who is constantly a level or two ahead of me and stupidly, I won't quit until I overtake her (or until Christmas, whichever comes first)

Fat Girl Makes a Splash

It is becoming a bit embarrassing, the size of my arse. Actually, that's never been a problem. You can call me all sorts of fat-names but lardarse isn't the best of them.

The problem is my general lardiness. I notice it in my bingo wings and flabby thighs. Aggh no! I have a litany of excuses for my failure to exercise of late.

When I took to the pool in August 2008 and soon after, bought a bike,  I bet you thought I wouldn't last. I didn't think that, either, truth be told, so my recent lapse, though a matter of regret, is not terminal.

The excuses range from a cold straight after coming back from holiday, long weekend at my mother's, cold wet windy weather, and worn-out brake pads. Which is a saga on inactivity in itself!

But I went swimming tonight. Only the second (or possibly third) time since I got back from holiday. The good news is that I am still not back to square one - that first occasion, when I couldn't even manage a length without stopping, and the water seemed oppressively deep.

The good news is at one point I totally zoned and stopped thinking about my body, the water or my surroundings, and I just swam.

The bad news. I'm still rubbish.

Pausing in between every set of two lengths. Pathetic. And because it's December, I was by far the worst swimmer in the pool. I presume it will close down during the Christmas break (which has annoyed me about swimming pools ever since I got my six metres certificate in about 1974), and then I want it to be clear: I'm not just there because of a short-lived New Year Resolution!

At home it was obvious I deserved a treat

No, no the whole packet! Obviously, I don't actually approve of these things, but there's this man who comes into the house bearing them.

Look at the brown ones, chocolate cream caramel wafers. Each biscuit is wrapped individually in brown dyed plastic. Four of them are placed in a clear plastic bag, and then along with the blue foil-wrapped ones placed on a plastic tray, before being sealed in blue and brown dyed plastic bag.

I am pretty certain that at least one of those packing items is entirely redundant. I remember when I were a lass, chocolate biscuits would come with a lot less packaging than that.

These aren't any chocolate biscuits, these are Marks and Spencer's chocolate biscuits. M&S that trumpets its 'Plan A' 'because there's no Plan B' who prides itself on reducing waste and caring deeply, with passion, about the environment (and, of course, about the positive image and consequent sales generated by appearing to care).

(crappy photo taken on phone because I CBA with hassle of proper camera!)

Cold calling lies

I picked up the phone, thinking it would be Jimmy or Mother. It wasn't; it was 'Mike Smith*' from the 'Accident Investigation Department'. Despite me asking which company's AID, twice, he wouldn't tell me. He alleged that somebody at my number had suffered an accident or injury in the past couple of years. I asked twice for the name of the person. The first time, he said he didn't know, he just had the number; the second time he couldn't tell me because of Data Protection Act.

It was a spectacularly stupid attempt at cold-calling. For a start, if you google my home phone number, you actually get my name (a legacy of being on the Council); any decent Investigation Department would have access to a searchable phone directory (my number is publicly listed).

'The past couple of years' is really not good enough. I am trying to envisage a situation where someone is involved in an accident and only gives their phone number. It's not terribly surprising or unusual in itself, or indeed they give a name but the person writing it down is illegible. I would imagine that the case file would include a date and location of the incident.

If I was genuinely attempting to establish more information about the person, I would begin by apologising for disturbing the person who picks up the phone. I would go on to introduce my company, and explain without evasion the reason I was trying to contact a unnamed person. I accept that there are limits which may be disclosed under the DPA. Therefore, I would leave instructions that if anybody at this number has had an accident to contact Named Person, Named Company, Phone Number.

I suspect it was a scam to appeal to someone's greed and excitement at possibly getting  a payout for a non-existent accident, which, at its most benign would end up with the person taking out an insurance policy for accidents.

Now, is it just me, but why would anyone want to sign up with a company which employs deceit to sell a policy? I ask myself, why do these companies use these tactics? The answer is - people fall for it.

I know that it's not right to adopt a superiority complex, but there are times when I just have to note that I am, in fact, better than many other people. I am not one of those greedy, probably self-absorbed people, who idiotically fall for these scams. I may not be the body beautiful, and owner of designer this-and-that, but I can see them coming. I just wish other people would, too, and stop these companies wasting my time.

* with an accent unlike any that I would expect from 'Mike Smith'

I'm a fraudster, or so it seems

But please don't tell my employer or my professional institute because both are inherently opposed to fraud.

Yesterday evening, I indulged in a bit of online shopping. My logic being, that as I have to stay in potentially all day tomorrow to receive a delivery, I might has well as line up various others - one stone, several birds.

Amazon, no problem. Except that they didn't have a particular DVD I want, so I decided to order it from HMV. But they told me that my card had been declined, and asked me to enter my three-digit security code. I did. Same message. Tried again. Same message. Gave up.

I tried another retailer. Told that my card had been rejected. Tried again. Same result. Used my Solo card instead. Success.

I wondered if it was anything to do with having got a replacement card a couple of weeks ago.

Remembered I hadn't go round to booking Lulu and Tosca from ROH. Booked seats. Tried to pay. Card rejected. Tried again. Card rejected. Recalling that my card worked last week for booking Un ballo in maschera.  Tried Solo card. Success.

Having just spotted a matinée of Agrippina at Royal Festival Hall (the same day but not, I think, overlapping, as the Arianna in Creta I have already booked at the Barbican), I decided to book that. Tried to pay. Card rejected. Tried again. Card rejected. Tried Solo card. Success.

I'm beginning to notice a pattern here (you have to get up early to catch me out, I don't miss a trick!). I looked for contact details only to discover that the non-emergency help lines close at 8pm.

So, this morning, I phone up my branch, who tell me that a stop has been put on my card as a result of "recent unusual activity" on my account, and suggest that I contact the card services department. They confirm that my card has been stopped, irrespective of the healthy balance of surplus funds in my account, despite me not having reported it lost or stolen. The unusual activity is at Amazon. To which I can say 'WTF'. There is nothing unusual about me splurging at Amazon. Why reject me spending at the Royal Opera House, which is a frequent entry on my account, probably about once a month? And frankly, what fraudster, realistically, is going to book medium price tickets for Lulu?  I mean, seriously? Tosca, possibly, but Lulu?

I was extremely pissed off, because it turned out they had put a total stop on my account. I could have gone to the supermarket and attempted to pay for a trolley-load of goods, or a restaurant and be faced with a bill I could not pay, or maybe be travelling, possibly abroad. It could have been embarrassing, it could have been extremely inconvenient. It could, conceivably, have stranded or endangered me. But they didn't even bother contacting me, despite having my phone number and my email address.

  What is so pathetic is that of the four rejected transactions, I was able to complete three with my Solo card. My Maestro card is for main bank account, into which my salary goes and from where my Direct Debits come out. My Solo card is for the linked First Reserve Account, which is held at the same branch, with the same sort code. The statements arrive together (FR only once a quarter, enveloped with my monthly main statement). I can transfer freely between the accounts online. I can walk into a branch with my Maestro card and use it to withdraw money from the FR account.

And NatWest Bank has decided that there is fraudulent activity on my main account, so take steps to prevent it. Yet they allow exactly the same allegedly fraudulent transactions to go through on that same account's twin sister.

Utter crap controls. Anti-fraud FAIL.

Verging on defamation of character. Customer service FAIL.

I would just like to remind the NatWest bank that you are owned by the taxpayer, who bailed you out,  and accountable to the taxpayer. Stop doing that private sector piss-on-your-customer thing and start being a responsive customer-focused public service.

Commercial dealings

I moan a lot about poor Customer Service on here, so it's only fair sometimes to give credit where it's due.

I accept that in an imperfect world run by imperfect humans, sometimes things go wrong. Assuming the 'going wrong' isn't catastrophic, I can live with it, as long as they are resolved. But I am sick of tired of  back-and-forth arguing with defensive businesses in denial which ends up causing more stress and inconvenience than the original fault.

In January,  Jimmy received his credit card bill which showed a charge for the hotel we stayed at in Valencia. This surprised me, because we had already paid up-front via ebookers. I know I should have got onto it straight away, but fear of endless toing-and-froing turned it into a Round Tuit. My lame self-justifying excuse being that I wasn't sure whether my problem was with ebookers, the hotel or the credit card company.

Finally, on Wednesday, I emailed ebookers explaining the situation.

Within 13 hours they responded:

thank you for your email and for bringing this matter to our attention. I was sorry to learn of the difficulties you encountered.

When the reservation was made, we supplied the hotel with our payment details in the form of a "single use credit card". The hotel should have charged us upon you checking out and should not have charged you. I can only apologise for any inconvenience caused. Our hotel department are aware of this issue and will be following this matter up with the suppliers and hotel chains to ensure that all properties are aware of the single use credit card procedure.

I have asked the hotel to refund you and will contact you again when I receive their confirmation.

I was astounded. Really amazed. I shouldn't be, but I was. So, thanks to Lucy at ebookers, who demonstrated how to get it right

• respond swiftly
• write in plain, correct,  but not dumbed-down English
• don't blame the customer
• apologise
• explain what she is doing to rectify the situation for me personally
• explain what she is doing to reduce the chance of this happening to someone else in the future

Hopefully, neither Lucy nor I are going to have waste time exchanging increasingly hostile emails when both of us have better things to do with our time.

On a separate note, I ordered a new laptop online on Saturday. When I went to pay, my card was rejected. I made an (incorrect) assumption that this was a result of me having registered my previous card with the pop-up box which requests three characters from a password for further verification, and having replaced that card recently.

So I rang up and was greeted with a message "NatWest Fraud line"

The upshot was that the particular retailer I was using is a big target for card fraud - highly desirable consumer electronic goods. Fair enough, I understand the reasons for the extra precautions. I'm even willing to swallow the hogwash that it's for my protection when really I'm very much third in consideration after the bank and the retailer.

What I don't like is the manner in which it was done. I didn't like the message 'Your card has been declined' when it should have been 'This card transaction requires extra verification; please contact us to complete the transaction.'  And I do not like being greeted with a message that implies that an attempted fraud is in progress. What happened to presumption of innocence? I think most people can cope conceptually with an occasional need to take further steps to verify something.

I did suggest to the - very pleasant - call-handler that Anti-Fraud would be better than Fraud. But actually, I'm not so sure. As I say, I understand the high incidence of fraud in this type of transaction, and I understand and support the desire to reduce fraud.

But the end result is that potentially every genuine customer (perhaps over a materiality threshold) is assumed to be a fraudster unless they can prove otherwise. Which is a perversion of jurisprudence and really bad customer relations. If they changed the wording it would not in anyway change the procedures and system, but it is still my reaction to start trembling and worrying that my card has been declined because of insufficient funds, even when I know this not to be the case.

Is this just me being an auditor, I wonder?

Phone update

I popped into my local Carphone Warehouse branch and explained my dilemma - that I need a replacement handset but would like an upgrade, paying the difference if not too exorbitant. He aid that shouldn't be a problem, I could get a Blackberry, but because of the type of  area the shop is in*, they don't carry the full range of stock. He advised me to go to Streatham or Brixton. I asked how much would I be likely to have to pay; he said it depends on how long I have been a customer and been paying. I said I have been a customer since 2002. He said that's a long time.

This is somewhat different from what I was told on the phone...

I shall go to Streatham or Brixton after United v Liverpool live on the TV. My finger nails are doomed, doomed, I say

* I clarified that this meant 'secondary shopping parade' rather than 'high crime' (anyway, the Met says it's below average for burglaries, although above average for personal robberies)

On trying to get a new phone

I have been with the Carphone Warehouse for over 6 years. I made a claim on my insurance to replace a burgled handset in June 2003, and I haven't made a claim since. I'm probably not the  highest rolling customer, but I always pay my bill on time by Direct Debit, rarely use my month's allocation of texts, and often pay extra for WAP access and calls abroad.

The easy thing would be to get a handset as a like-for-like, but the phone that fell in the mug of milk is a Nokia 6230i and frankly, that is so naff, why would I want like-for-like? I checked the CPW website and discovered that, if I was due an upgrade, I could get a Blackberry free.

So I rang them with a proposition. I claim on my insurance in order to get a replacement but rather than get like-for-like, I pay the difference towards getting a Blackberry. (My contract runs to September so I'm not due a free upgrade until July).

 No can do said Sales, and put me through to Insurance.

I had the misfortune to speak Ms Can'tDo. I explained what I wanted to do and she couldn't do it. I asked to speak to a Supervisor but The System wouldn't allow it. I managed to get her to state that there is not one person in the entire Carphone Warehouse who has the power to look at matters on a case-by-case and decide on the merits of the case. What I was to do was to go into a CPW branch and present my broken phone, and then they would decide whether my claim was valid. I had to ask several very simple questions to find out whether that decision would be made in minutes, hours, days, weeks. She kept repeating that it depends on The System.

If I didn't like the handset I was offered I could make a complaint. I said I know now I won't like the handset. She kept telling me that she couldn't do anything until I proved that the phone is broken. I said I fully understood that and tried to get her to imagine, for argument's sake, that that I managed to demonstrate it is broken, and that, for argument's sake, I didn't like the handset I was offered. She struggled to cope with the concept of hypothetical, but eventually, she grasped what I was getitng at, and said that I would have to phone back and make a complaint,  that would take eight weeks to be answered. It's all down to The System.

I went surfing the www and discovered numerous offers where I could get a free Blackberry and £100 cashback, being that it's a really competitive market out there, plus there's a recession on and all that.

I remembered something that Sales had said, that my insurance allowed me to buy my contract out. So I called back, and Sales confirmed that this was true; however, I would not be able transfer my number. I asked Sales:

"So you're perfectly happy to lose a loyal customer of six years."

"Yeah, I guess so..."

"Even though I am offering to pay money for the right to pay you even more money, you're turning me down?"

"Yes!"

"Is this seriously your company's attitude to business?" He said it was. And in the three years he had worked there, no one had ever asked to contribute towards an upgrade as an alternative for a  straight replacement.  In order to buy out my contract I had to be transferred to Insurance, again.

This time I got Ms CanDo, Clare, who explained that what I want was not in line with the options available but she could understand what I wanted, and why I wanted it, and decided that she would formally lodge a complaint on my behalf.

She checked my records and discovered that the last time I upgraded, rather than transfer my existing comprehensive insurance to my new handset, the call-handler had started a new "insurance light" policy. She explained that she needed to cancel the second policy, transfer the first one to my now-broken handset. She explained, carefully, twice, what paper work would arrive in the post. She then explained that she did not have the authority to credit a £360 refund to my bank account, so she would have to get her supervisor to authorise it. I said I understand. She explained that it should be in my account within ten days, probably more like 4-7, and I would receive notification in the post.

She read out what the complaint was, and she had managed to summarise it brilliantly, including the fact that I have had the same number since 1995 (when she was ten!).  She explained that the Financial Services Authority required them to resolve the complaint within eight weeks, but in practice they try and sort it out in a week or two. She explained that I would receive an acknowledgement letter stating who was dealing with my complaint.

I shall wait and see what happens. A friend says that they might give me a Blackberry for free. It's a nice thought, and I wouldn't say no, but I doubt it. I guess it would be more logical to go elsewhere and just notify everyone of my new number. Or get a crappy replacement and wait until July for a free upgrade. But Inow have the bit between my teeth and want to find out how much this firm actually wants paying cutomers!

Incompetent interruption

A couple of days ago I got a mailshot in the post from the University of Nottingham. It said

In the next few weeks a Nottingham student will telephone you. I hope you will...agree to make a donation to the Annual Fund.

At the end in small print it says that one can opt out of being phoned on this occasion (my emphasis) by telephoning a Nottingham number.

This evening the phone rang and displayed a Nottingham number. I picked it up, because I have relatives, and my bank, in Nottingham, then I remembered the begging letter. The caller asked to speak to Miss Gert (only not Gert, my proper legal name) pronounced wrongly, and with no surname. I said I had got the letter asking for money, everyone's asking for money, and I'm not interested in giving to Nottingham University.

The caller went onto explain, in extremely poor English, that he wasn't just phoning to ask for money but to find out more about what I am doing 'over here'. That 'over here' threw me; he clarified - what I had done with my life since being at Nottingham. After confirming name and address, the first question was "Are you married?"

Fabulous!

I graduated with an honours degree from one of Britain's leading University and the first question that is asked is Are you married? I worked hard and got that degree. My answer was none of your business - maybe I should have said Oh yes, several times. Simultaneously!

I was asked what career I was doing. Well, I was asked two unintelligible questions which on the third attempt turned out to be about my career. I said I'm an Accountant. So he said You studied Politics at University, what caused you to change professions?

Well, that stumped me, too. Whoever would have thought that 'studying Politics' is a profession! A full time occupation, maybe, but not a Profession. I studied longer for my Professional Qualification - which will continue to help me in the job market indefinitely - than for my poxy degree which is now utterly useless jobwise. Interesting subject to study, or it would have been if the degree course had been thoughtfully constructed and the incompetent lecturers had been shown the door.

This episode has left me with a real sour taste in my mouth. I really have no desire whatsoever to give money to Nottingham University. I am sure that many of my contemporaries can happily donate thousands of Daddy's money without blinking an eye; I'm afraid I didn't have a trust fund back then, nor do I have one now. I do feel that there are far more deserving causes than East Midlands Finishing School.

I think it's bad form to phone so soon after sending the begging letter. I think it's even worse form, in 2009, to have 'phone' as the only option for opting out. And then, out of the thousands of students they could employ to make the phone call, they get a halfwit who can't speak English to call me. If that's the quality of student they're taking now (no doubt recruited more for their massive baksheesh than their academic ability), I'm doubly certain I don't want to contribute.

It's funny, but my old Primary School (I didn't go to Nursery) has never contacted me begging for money, even though we as a nation spend far less per Primary School student than University student. There is considerable evidence that investing in Primary school education is far more beneficial to society than investing in Higher Education (although, obviously, I do regard HE as important), and is far more beneficial to the individual. I assume that the current pupils at my Primary School are taught in classes of 30 or so, while my equivalents at Nottingham are probably still being taught in classes as small as 4, with occasional one-to-ones.

Hello world

It seems like I have been without internet for days. Which is unsurprising, because I have!

I first noticed it two weeks ago and reported it a week ago. On Tuesday engineers needed access to the house. Fortunately Jimmy was around. They decided they needed to climb the poll but couldn't do that in the dark. Following that, they needed access to the house,  again. fortunately Jimmy was around, at least for part of the day.

That seemed almost to work; I had broadband that was only cutting off only every couple of hours or so. It did mean that I had no dial-tone in the phone on that line, which is not the line I use for phone calls (two lines, legacy issue, round-tuit prevails). On Friday, another engineer called (fortunately I don't work on Fridays) and did something to restore the dial-tone. I had broadband for several hours but it disconnected from time-to-time and was painfully slow. Phonecalls assured me that it would improve over a couple of days.

Saturday morning, despite frequent attempts, I could not connect at all. A call to the telephony department said that there had been a lot of noise on the line but it was now working perfectly; I should contact Broadband. Broadband said there was a problem and talked me through various things.

She told me that my router wasn't working properly, because it was set up wrong. I was cynical about that, because I had set it up three years ago when I got this PC; it had previously worked okay for a year or more on the previous PC. However, I was prepared to accept that there might be an unrelated problem with the router even when I pondered that it was too much a coincidence that my router should pack up at the same time as my line!

So I went out and bought a new one, for thirty five pounds. That didn't work either, so I got back on the phone again and was practically in tears. The person on the other end said that if the 'link' or 'DSL' light is flickering (as it was on both) that is never an indication of a router fault. He did some tests and called back to confirm there was a problem on the line, and escalated it to a Broadband engineer.

The Broadband engineer called this morning (fortunately I don't work Mondays...how many households could sustain home visits on four separate weekdays within a week?). He did some tests and said there was a lot of noise on the line: noise that could be heard in a voice call. He also climbed the poll and then came back and tested the line and said it was running at 7.2 mbps. I have done a Speedtest which suggests 1/20th of that. In the past I have got 2 mbps. I am close to the exchange and use the line only for broadband, using the main socket, and I don't have it sitting on the fridge or whatever. I will buy a new filter and see what happens with the new router.

It is particularly annoying it happening at this time. Jimmy started a new job on Thursday. I knew this was coming, so my focus has been on spending time with him rather than on the PC, and this weekend would have been an excellent opportunity for catching up on blogging, blog-reading etc. Instead I have had to resort to stuff like cleaning the kitchen. Yikes (although I did do so to the accompaniment of Tristan und Isolde.

I tell you, I am never letting that man near my kitchen again. Nothing is where it should be. I have found things that I thought have gone missing. Clothes pegs, cloths for mopping, double sided sponges/scourers. I can't believe his hoarding instincts. He's the sort of person who sees a 3-for-2 offer and buys six. We have a kitchen with little storage. He was supposed to have put a new cupboard up to expand it. Instead we have four cans of lighter refill gas, three different shower cleaning sprays, three unopened bottles of mayonnaise and two of tomato ketchup. Six big boxes of teabags. Three different packets of Garam Masala, all opened. Two unopened bottles of Reggae Reggae sauce. At least my tins of sardines are neatly stacked in one place; his tins of salmon are distributed randomly throughout the cupboard.

I also went through the other cupboard throwing put numerous out-of-date packages of rice, pasta, flour and other cooking ingredients. I will concede I am responsible for those. Since I went down with CFS I have not had the energy or inclination either to bake (although that doesn't explain the rice and pasta) or to clear the cupboards, whereas I managed to do that, having cleaned the kitchen, having cooked dinner, having been swimming, having done a couple of loads of laundry. It may not seem much to most people, but for me it's a massive step forward.

Bike trials

Ten days ago, as you may recall me writing, I ordered and paid for a new bike. Having the maturity of a small child on Christmas Eve, I wanted it there and then. But the man in the shop explained that they had to build it and check it for road-worthiness, because if I took away a bike that wasn't roadworthy, and ended up under a bus, the shop will be liable.

They had a sign up that said 'Our promise. If you order before 12 noon we will build your bike for the same day. If you order after 12 noon, we will build it for the next day.' As this was early Friday afternoon, I could have possibly expected a Saturday build, definitely Monday. But no, they said Tuesday at the earliest. Tuesday wasn't convenient so we agreed Thursday.

On Monday we returned to the shop and ordered and paid for a bike for Jimmy. Basically the same model, although obviously mine is female geometry and without the crossbar to enable me to ride side-saddle. We agreed Thursday also for his.

Thursday evening we go there, to be told that my bike is ready but his isn't; it hasn't been built, it wasn't on the list. After some deliberating we decide to take mine and he said he'd collect his Saturday (we were at a funeral Friday).

He suggested that I ride it round the car-park, but I declined, seeing as though the car park was being used for boy-racers thirty-something women, with children in the back,  doing handbrake turns. "It's like Brands Hatch!" I exclaimed.

Being that I am middle-aged and increasingly nervous cautious, and I haven't actually properly been on a bike in cough years, I thought - should I ride on the A204, a busy bus-and-commuter route in the rush hour,  or should I wheel it to the park conveniently situated just round the corner. Immediately inside the park gates I mounted, eased down on the right pedal and fell off.

Yeah, yeah, I can see you all laughing now.

What I did was remount immediately, and then go "Er? How come my handle bars are all wonky?"

Simple answer, they were loose in the mount, so the smallest amount of pressure meant they just swivelled round to 90 degrees. I wheeled it back to the shop, spoke to the sales assistant who summoned the manager. The manager was all apologetic and said this shouldn't have happened. It's part of procedures when issuing a bike to tighten the handlebars because they are stored hanging up with the handlebars in line with the body of the bike. I suggested that part of the procedures should be training staff to follow procedures. The manager said the sales assistant had been there three months and it was unlikely that it was the first bike he had issued*.

I also raised the issue of Jimmy's bike not being ready as booked, despite the 'promise' on the yellow notice. The manager ran a print and realised that it was actually scheduled for collection on 30 December 1899. Yes, really... I suggested that there should be some recognition of the late delivery and the manager said he'd see what he could do. Jimmy collected his bike on Saturday (no 'recognition' offered) and it was only when he got it home that we realised that my mudguards, paid for and annotated on the order, hadn't been fitted. Sigh

Naturally, an email, stating all the facts, has been sent to Head Office Customer Service. Auto reply promised a substantive reply in 7 days.

* You might say I should have checked: my going round to the park was my way of checking. That does not in any way resolve them of the duty of care, stated at the point of purchase, to ensure a bike leaving the premises is road-worthy.

Between a rock and a hard place

The rock being Brixton 'ill, the hard place being deepest darkest Sussex.

The constraint being the railway network.

In my role as Gert Cottage Entertainment Manager I am aiming for third time lucky in respect of planing a day out. I planned Hever Castle, and was up half the night before and too weak on the day. I planned Chichester but Jimmy was hitting the slough of despond in the ongoing cough-cold-lurgy of Spring 2008.

I thought, the weather is set fair. A day out for Friday, I thought. I have selected a place to go where the main attraction is ten minutes walk from the railway station. An hour and half train ride form my local station (Streatham Hill). National Rail says I might have to buy two separate tickets because through tickets may not be available. I would be surpised...I have bought tickets for more remote and obscure destinations than a major Sussex cathedral city.

I checked the fare. £41.10 per adult is the cheapest return. I gulped a bit. I could go to Manchester or Leeds and back for less. Sussex is a day out, not Inter City. I investigated further. Oh, look there are all sorts of cheaper tickets, with attractive names like Mily Molly Mandy, Looby-Loo and Big Fat Rosie. Or they might as well be for all the meaning they convey.

I have read on blogs about the utter confusion of rail tickets. To be honest, it has never happened to me. Either I plan so much in advance that I get really cheap deals on Inter City, especially when I can be bit flexible. Or I make journeys whose cost are really just pocket money - Brighton and Southend are inconsequential amounts. However, uncharacteristically, I have the humility to realise that just because it hasn't happened to me doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

I understand about dynamic pricing of tickets, and how the price adjusts to reflect relative demand and propinquity, an attempt to risk manage market fluctuations and maximise income. It's a complex calculation but a simple concept.

My ideal would be to get a train out of Clapham Junction as early as possible after the peak fares have finished. This would be on Friday. My intention would be to leave London in the morning and return in the evening, in both cases going against what I assume to be the peak flow. In effect I will be ballast, as they have to move the carriages anyway*. So the price is irrelevant. They have a captive audience on the upline in the morning, equally captive down in the evening. Yet I am being offered tickets whose numbers are limited by capacity. Hint: if there are capacity limits on the ballast train, surely there would be severe overcrowding on the commuting train?

I had read that it has been decreed from on high that confusing and rip-off names for rail fares are being abolished. Turns out, not yet. We have to wait until Septemebr before being presented with a simple three-point choice: travel when you want, pay a lot; pay weeks in advance and get it for a song; avoid peak time and save a bit.

To be honest, it's not really that I object to paying a price for the convenience, although £85, before admissions and refreshments, is a bit steep. It's the complexity of the ifs and buts and the feeling that the ifsandbuts are not dictated by logic. It ought to be a no-brianer to get the train to the nether regions of Sussex, so much quicker and safer, especially as we consider a good meal and real ales or fine wines a vital part of a day out. I wish I could just roll up at Streatham Hill on Friday and ask for two return tickets and feel confident that the price I get is a fair price. But I already have a nagging feeling in my mind that I might end up being ripped off.

* I first observed this on the London Tilbury and Southend. Each morning crowded 12-carriage trains would thunder crawl into the city, an dcome out again, as deserted as the Marie Celeste. By about half three or four o'clock, empty twelve carriage trains, some in service some not would emerge from the Shoeburyness Trainsheds like nocturnal creatures blinking from their burrows, to pound the miles to the City to return packed to the gunwales. I pondered why they couldn't spend the day grazing in a field in London. Whetehr deliberately or happenstance, loco sheds tend to be remote from London

Canon Numptyness update

A few days ago, I moaned about the incompetence of online retailers. Yahoo finally got their act together and rectified the situation (but it shouldn't have taken two months and umpteen emails).

Canon have responded

Your request for a refund has been processed. Refund details:...........If you have further questions regarding your order, please click on the link below for assistance

Strange I thought, I never asked for a refund, I asked for my goods.

So, I clicked on the link and entered my order number. Not found it said.

So, I thought. How often did I ever use the remote control before it malfunctioned?* And maybe it would be quicker and easier to knit myself a lightweight camera case. I am just puzzled at commercial organisation who seem allergic to collecting money from willing customers.

*which was 3 years ago. It would have been useful when taking a group photo and not necessitate my cousin sprinting across a garden to get in the group before the ten second delay expired...other than that, shrug

When a business makes me smile by using its brain

It's easy to moan about pisspoor companies who don't get that 'customers' are a vital part of their 'business'.

Sometimes we forget to praise the businesses who are run by grown-ups and appear to have an instinctive grasp that paying customers are pretty important to their business, income and profit.

Sixapart, makers of Movable Type, Typepad, Typekey etc...

I made them a payment for an annual service using Jimmy's credit card. This annual service included a two week trial period during which no attempt would be made to debit the card.

Towards the end of that two week trial period Jimmy lost his credit card and had to cancel it, and I thought, oh no, Six Apart will try to debit the payment, and it will be refused and it will all go horribly wrong.

So I emailed them, explaining the circumstances and that HSBC said it would be 7-10 days before the replacement arrived and I would be ever so grateful if you would allow me a short period of grace under the circumstances. This was on a Sunday afternoon Mid afternoon Monday they emailed me back. Their response was: yes, of course, we'll extend your deadline. Oh, and by the way, even then we give you another seven days to sort out any card errors. And even after that, although we suspend your account, we don't delete it, so once you pay up, everything is back to where it was.

That is what I call customer service. A swift and positive response to a request. No baby talk. A recognition of a fairly common problem and a practical sensible procedure for managing it. It isn't difficult and shouldn't be noteworthy, but in my experience, such behaviour is way too rare.

How being ripped off reduces me to tears of frustration

Sometimes I yearn for a simple life.

A life uncomplicated by the unnecessary pressures of being a consumer in a consumerist society.

I've known problems in my life. Those times when you just don't know how you're going to pay the next bill. Those times when you stand quivering with fear as it seems to take for ever for the plastic card to be authorised - or rejected and confiscated. And you know that these circumstances are of your own making.

I've known periods of self-denial. Snortle. Sometimes I've gone almost whole days without giving in to consumerist desires. I have gone through entire weeks, maybe almost complete months when I have scrutinised every buying decision. I've even had periods where I have rejected every buying decision except 'absolutely essential'.

What annoys me is the three things I have been currently having problems with are all unnecessary. I would not have had these problems ten years ago.

The first has been resolved. I renewed my anti-virus software and now have some all singing all dancing product called Norton 360. It has far too many whistles and bells, and doesn't exactly come cheap. but c'est la vie.

I downloaded it about six weeks ago but couldn't activate it. It simply wouldn't accept my product key. To cut a long story short, my second 'free trial' period expired today, and I was nearly in tears trying to work out what the problem was. Eventually, somewhere in the bowels of their site, I found an option to LiveChat. It turns out that I was trying to 'renew' a new product. Well, bugger me! Here I am thinking that by entering the product key that came with the confirmation that I had bought the product, I would be able to use the product I had bought. The solution involved allowing Symantec's support contractors to take remote control of my machine. I did not feel entirely comfortable with that, but, as they advised, I watched what was going on and it all seemed above board. I'm okay when IT support do that at work, even though it freaks me out. But, anyway, my virus, firewall, spyware, phishing, blah-de-blah protection is bang up to date. And so simple, in the end...

In March I paid out money to renew my MyBlogLog Pro, and they persist on keeping me on the free service. Every week I send an email and most of the time, they do nothing.

I did receive an excruciating twee condescending email from MyBlogLog, now part of Yahoo

Thank you for working with us so we may resolve the issue you are experiencing with MyBlogLog. We have forwarded the information you have supplied to us to our topnotch engineering department for further review and investigation. If it's possible to fix this problem, rest assured they'll do it, or at least find a clever work around. (They pride themselves as master troubleshooters.)

We apologize for the inconveniences and appreciate your patience and willingness to work with us while we work to resolve your issue.

This was a response to my response to them where I detailed the problem and stated in a businesslike manner "I am paying for a service I am not receiving, please rectify this immediately."

So, because they wanted to treat me as a halfwit, I got a bit angry and replied:

Please don't patronise me. I do not want your clever engineers to do a clever work around. What I suggest you do is:

a) verify that I have indeed paid for your service via Paypal (details attached) - you might want to consult with your accounts department, it is part of their job description to verify accounts receivable.

b) write that on a piece of paper and pass it to your very clever engineering department

c) flick the switch that changes 'free account' to 'pro account'. Oh, and please restore access to the statistics I have paid for since March 2005.

Since when all has been quiet. My god, I even suggest a solution and they're too drugged up to provide it. Morons. More seriously, exactly what part of customer service includes talking to customers as if they are zombies/infant-school children/half-wits.

Two months ago I ordered a new case and wireless remote control for my camera, from Canon. A month later they wrote to confirm that it had 'shipped'. Since when, nothing. I have tried sending them a message via their webshite - order number, nature of query, blah-de-blah. I click send, and the page refreshes, but it doesn't actually tell you if you have actually sent off an email. and you get no auto-reply in your inbox confirming they have received it. The only other way to contact them is by phone, to Ireland, and at only at 3 o'clock on a Wednesday morning if that Wednesday happens to be the 31st of the month (or some such nonsense).

I may not be the most canny business woman, but I reckon there is only one way to stay in business - deliver the product which the customer is willing to pay for. There is an additional way of making money - that is, taking money under false pretences. That is illegal and immoral. Right now, I think it's the business models of Yahoo! and Canon, who are currently filed under 'Lying thieving gits'

Identity Fraud

Well, it's not really. It's bizarre.

A few weeks ago I received a card through the door from the postman for a package to be collected from the Delivery Office. The name of the addressee was not familiar so I checked with my neighbours, whose name I don't know, but it was unfamiliar to them. I thought maybe I would go and collect the package and find out, but then I thought, I would need proof of being the addressee, which I don't have, so I thought I would contact Royal Mail, but I forgot.

This morning I received a letter addressed to an unfamiliar name and I connected it to that package. I opened it and read it as being a payment reminder from a Chocolate firm who are doing some heavy marketing right now.

I phoned them up (I don't want credit black-listing for a £10 debt that isn't mine) and they were very sensible and co-operative, understood what I was saying, didn't make accusations, and said they would remove the details from their database. I commented it was bizarre behaviour, because, presumably, a normal fraudster would want access to the goods. If the postman had knocked louder, and if I hadn't been in a deep sleep, I would have accepted the package and then investigated whether it belonged to a neighbour (my religious nutter neighbours have a bizarre habit of giving my address to mailing organisations - through lack of clarity rather than deliberate stupidity, I think). I would probably have ended up eating the chocolate - oh, come on, this is chocolate! It can't be a postal insider job, because that scam falls down with the attempt to deliver. It's not a senseless act of random kindness, because the bill has landed on my doormat. And, despite the title of the post, it's not Identity Fraud.

The man who answered the phone said that they have had a few like this, they think it's a prankster, which must be very annoying for them. The only rational explanation is that it is a rival hell bent on destroying them. And indeed, there was recently a news story about a rival having to sack a chocalatier for deliberate sabotage of this company's product. So perhaps I am the innocent victim of industrial sabotage. Which is rather exciting! If I could have predicted being a victim of industrial sabotage, I wouldn't have predicted the chocolate industry!

Now, of course, I have the letter demanding payment, I could theoretically go to the Delivery Office and claim the package. But that would then make me a criminal, and I think that interfering with the Royal Mail is a far more serious crime than mere petty theft. I am also wondering whether it's a crime to impersonate an imaginary person.

A day out

As the day progresses one has random thoughts and observations. Twitter can be quite useful in capturing and broadcasting in 140 characters.

I wonder how much I can remember from random thoughts and observations.

Sitting at the traffic lights in Brixton Town Centre I spotted Cllr Toren looking alarmingly and amusingly as if he didn't know his way around Brixton Town Centre, specifically that bit outside the Town Hall.

Topping up Jimmy's Oystercard at the Tube some bloke started begging. I assumed he was more specifically trying to distract and dip so I told him to 'go away' (yes, those were my actual words!). He then tried the people behind us, but not until they were ready to use the machine. The bloke engaged him in conversation being all apologetic. I wanted to clock him (the bloke behind). Any conversation only encourages them; don't be so naive to think that such a person is worthy of compassion - he's a robber looking to exploit weakness.

On the Tube I noticed a man about my age try to give up his seat to an older woman with a stick. She was only going one stop so declined.

There was a woman stood in front of me. Obviously a follower of fashion. I noticed that her top - as well as being about half a size too small - was appallingly badly made. All the hems were upturned and fraying. One more wash and it will fall apart. I also noticed that she had the hairiest back I have ever seen on a woman. At first I thought it was an extended hairline but it was definitely a back hairier than most men. Now, I know that women actually have as much body hair as men and that an obsession with total depilation is verging on disturbing infantilism, but if I had a back that hairy I would either wear my hair down (she had long hair, pinned in a chignon) or I would wear a higher top.

I was annoyed at Starbucks (it was a stupid place to go because their coffee is crap, but logistically it was convenient considering the time involved). I asked if they had any chilled water. They pointed at the fridge but the water wasn't chilled. I requested a refund because I had asked for chilled water, it wasn't chilled. Why people looked at me as if I was weirdo, I don't know. If I had wanted to pay £1.20 for warm water that's what I would have requested.

I came to the conclusion that it is no surprise that I am an alcoholic*. In the Floral Hall I made what I thought was a simple drinks request - an orange juice and lemonade. A baby bottle of each; standard bar order. Only, the bottles weren't chilled. I queried this, the bar staff said that some people don't like cold drinks. Actually, I tend to agree. So why does almost every bar consider it necessary to add ice - that's yer frozen tap water - into every sodding drink? If I wanted to drink tap water, I'd have asked for it. And then the drink didn't fit into the glass I was given, so I asked for a bigger one. No can do. So, Royal Opera House, you charged me way over the going rate for a warm orange juice and lemonade, served in an inadequate glass, diluted with tap water. It would have been far simpler for me to order wine. But not at 2.15 on a nearly empty stomach.

We sat outside a restaurant, under the awning, protected from the rain. We specifically asked if it was okay to smoke. The waitress specifically drew our attention to the provided ashtray. Someone came to sit on the next table. We lit up. This woman kicked up a fuss and demanded to be moved to another table - inside the half empty restaurant. So, you have chosen to sit at one of of four tables outside a restaurant on Bow Street where there is a constant procession of internal combustion engines belching out noxious fumes, but then you object to someone smoking. Get real and get a sense of perspective. (Or are you so thick you base your opinions on the latest media bandwagon). Oh, by the way, our bill came to over £60. You didn't stay long enough for a main course to be cooked; your entire bill was probably smaller than our tip. Oh, and you were rude to the serving staff. That is entirely unacceptable.

On the Tube going home, Jimmy gave up his seat to a man with a white stick. Later, on the next stage of the journey, two separate thirty-something men gave up their seats to women in their 70s.

On the bus, two children barely out of Primary School were playing cRap on their phones, loud. I decided I would go and have a word, but Jimmy wouldn't let me out of the seat, saying it's not worth it; the bloke in front - who turned out to be an off-duty bus driver - agreed it's not worth it. The other day some driver confronted some kids and they pulled a gun out of their bag (I'm sceptical - a knife maybe, but I doubt a gun very much). My attitude is that if no one in the community tells children that their behaviour is unacceptable (and that I had a better quality music player before their parents were born!), they escalate the anti-social element until it is knives and guns aimed at bus drivers. He said when he was young a good clip around the ear was all it took when he was young, but what else do you expect 'round here'. I said a clip around the ear just demonstrates that violence = power, and how dare he say that my neighbourhood deserves scum. In any case, most teenagers try it on, push the boundaries and act thoughtlessly, but aren't gun-wielding maniacs. I cited two incidents in the past year when I mildly rebuked teenagers, one at the bus stop, one on a bus, for throwing litter. They apologised and picked up their litter. I thanked them. I knew full well they had been properly brought up but away from the beady eye of MumandDad they forgot. I have every confidence such children are and will be positive members of society.

I went home and suddenly overcome by the effects of half a bottle of wine and a grappa I retired to bed for half the evening.

Tonight I am supposed to be going to a local meeting about our latest planning blight. I would feel a lot happier if I thought it would be over in an hour, but I have this dread that it will be three hours of talking I don't want.

* I'm not

Comedy of Life

I have recently made some allusions to relative impecuniousness. I haven't made a big thing about it because it's not a problem. Or at least it wouldn't be a problem if I didn't have Big Eyes and an I Want I Want I Want mentality. Not starving nor on queer street.

The root of the problem lies in me not being eligible for Statutory Sick Pay when I am off sick. I won't go into all the details of stuff because of the 'not blogging about work' rule.

I got an in principle agreement before Christmas for a cash advance on my mortgage; based on a) my salary b) my equity and c) my lack of any other debts. But on reflection, they turned me down because a couple of direct debits had been rejected, for reasons connected to 'not blogging about work'. I am not in arrears and have never been behind to the point of it being referable to a credit reference agency.

Appealing in writing against what was clearly a bad business decision was on my unending list of things to do ignore. On Tuesday I went into the bank to pay in a cheque, and the cashier said "Anything else I can help with you today Ms C?" and just jokingly I said "Not unless you can lend me some money..." Turns out I was already pre-approved for a loan; this was in my account by yesterday morning.

By the time I returned to my desk from the bank, things had really started to move on the 'not blogging about work' front, impressively so.

This evening, expecting a phone call from Jimmy, I answered the phone. It wasn't him, and it wasn't a cold call, but it was Mortgage Brokers I had dealt with in the past. So I sat down and had a chat, and I explained the part-time stuff, being turned down by my existing lender (he reckons they were mad), and the brand new loan. He reckons I'm paying far too much on my mortgage and an advisor is coming round next week.

Tomorrow I do EuroMillions and Saturday I do the Lottery (yes, I know, it's a tax-on-the-stupid, but I reckon I can afford to waste a fiver; I do that most weeks on buying coffee when I have coffee grinds and a cafetiere in my desk...)

Stupid phone calls

On Friday, Jimmy was taking a nap in order to be rested for the evening.

The phone rang and, as it was in my hand, I answered it. It was from HSBC (with whom he banks) and the caller asked to speak to 'Jimmy's official legal first name, which isn't James'. I said he was not available; could I take a message? The message was tell him Chris called. I asked whether there was a number to call back on, or whether he should call his branch. The caller said he was not able to discuss any aspect of his acocunt. I explained that I was not asking him to. "Chris" said he would call back. I tried to explain that 'Jimmy's real name' was not in the habit of answering the phone. I'm the householder and the phone is in my name.

He kept saying he was not able to discuss details of (Jimmy's) bank account, I kept saying I wasn't asking him to. And every phrase was ended with "Thank you madam, good bye". I wasn't being abusive or difficult, just trying to establish a number that Jimmy should call back.

I would be angry if they did try and discuss details of the account. As far as the caller was concerned, I could be his landlady, tenant, housekeeper, gardener, nanny, or weekend guest. Even a burglar! If I am not permitted to take a message such as "Phone your branch" surely I should not be privy to which company he banks with. By their own logic, HSBC have broken their own rules by revealing this information to an unnamed unknown person who answer the phones. And yes, he reveals who he banks with every time he makes a payment, but on each occasion that is his decision. If he wished to withhold the information he would be within his rights to do so - he could pay by cash, postal order or by the account of AN Other.

I fully support the Data Protection Act and I get very annoyed by idiots who try to misinterpret it to the inconvenience of their customers.

Sky update update

My third phone call was at 5pm. I recapped the day's events and was told that the engineer had gone home for the day. I said that I didn't especially care which engineer, I just wanted the problem resolved today, as implied in our contract.

Conversation with the person who took the call: I learnt that they have fulfilled their contract by sending someone out to attend to the box to the best of his abilities. Second is that they can only offer me an 'all day' call from Wednesday onwards. Also, that staff at the engineer's firm 'Custom', just like at my employer, have to take annual leave or lose pay when they take time off (funny that...).

I asked to speak to the supervisor who turned out to be the firm's manager, Daniel. Daniel-with-an-attitude-problem. Defensive and attacking. No, he can't give anything more than specific than 'all day', even though I specifically said my partner would be available from 3pm. No, he can't make a management decision to prioritise a call for someone who has already had a failed visit (so, not really a manager at all, I presume). It's not his fault. There is no contract to replace the box, I don't have a contract with them, I haven't paid them any money*. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't his problem. I'd have to get onto Sky. I'm just another irritating customer with the impertinence to expect a job completed on the appointed day. I did feel he wanted to say "Woman, know your place..."

I used Say not to 0870 and got through to the geographical number in amazingly quick time. I wonder if they have a special team set up for people 'saying no to 0870' because the chap I dealt with was an excellent Customer Service person, conciliatory and giving the impression of empathising, which is the basis of good customer service. Nevertheless, he was only authorised to give me a £20 credit, but even the way he said it was conciliatory - not defensive, not aggressive - so I was inclined to believe him (I know a tiny bit about delegated financial authorities).

I made a big deal about 'I suppose I can arrange to work at home on Friday' because that was obviously preferable to hanging around all day on Saturday (of course my manager would laugh himself silly at that concept)**, but the list of programmes I won't be able to watch is growing. I hope that is resolved by 4pm Friday because that will be my last chance to catch the JDF Barber of Seville. At least, until it's repeated again in a few months time, but a few months time isn't good enough. (if the reports from professionals and amateurs alike are anything to go by JDF is certain to be my Tenor of the Month*** (Under 65 category)****)

Because I work part-time, I have more time than many people to be making these calls, but I work part-time for a reason, my health, and Jimmy gets angry when he sees me dealing with muppets on the phone and watching the colour visibly drain out of me. It seems like all these matters are a war of attrition, and the big firms win by beating down the people who pay their wages/profits. It sucks.

* hasn't grasped the accruals concept; nor the basis of subcontracting - imagine if an airline used the excuse 'you're not our customer, you booked via a travel agent; or a 'name' food manufacturer said 'it's not our problem, you bought it from Tesco'
** Friday is not a 'working day' for me
*** Remember my other nom de net is La Donna Mobile
****Not that mobile

Sky update

I received the phone-call to say when to expect the Sky engineer. Fine. At about half way through the allotted slot, he phoned to say he couldn't find the place, so I gave him instructions. Because I was in a chirpy mood, I didn't say "Read the bloody A-Z," but instead gave detailed instructions. As he didn't turn up, I rang him, he had driven way out of the way, so I gave even more detailed instructions. Eventually he arrived.

Fiddled around for a bit, said that all it needed was a software update, and Sky should have done that over the phone. He updated the software, and the TV seemed to be receiving okay, which was a massive advance on last night. As soon as he had gone I set the Sky+ Box to record something, anything, not important, to see how it went. Guess what, it didn't record properly, so I called 0845 number of the company, and stated very calmly what the issue was, and I expected an engineer to call back today. He tried ringing the engineer, but had to leave a voicemail for him to call me. Half an hour later, no callback. So I call back. And I am going to call every half hour until I get a satisfactory response.

Needless to say, a missive will be despatched, but I'm holding fire until the end of the day to see whether the problem is resolved, or else I emphasise strongly exactly why this is far far far from satisfactory.

About a dozen years ago my friend had a whole sequence of incompetence and inefficiencies from a wide variety of companies purporting to offer a range of services. What made it worse was that it seemed that every time she switched the TV on, John Major proclaiming his desire to see the public sector working more like the private sector. As she said, "God help us..."

Am I being unreasonable in just wanting to receive the service I pay for? It's not even that I can cancel my subscription to Sky, because the only alternative is nothing. But then a supposedly highly competitive market such as broadband provision is demonstrated to be no better than the monopolies. I can't help thinking if someone like me feels constantly so frustrated, what happens to people without my advantages. And it's such an interruption. You spend so much time waiting for the next instalment, or timing your next move, or hanging on the phone, it's actually very difficult to get anything else done.

Customer Service Rant

I really do not understand it.

Problems with Sky+ box, details are boring. Went through various suggested painless possible solutions to little avail. Decided that what is needed is a new box; to get one requires an engineer visit. (You can buy one for £150, but if the engineer calls, it's a £65 call-out charge).

To contact Sky is an 0870 number, which is 8p/5p/3p per minute depending on time of day.

I have spent, before today, approximately 4 hours on this number. On Monday, as my twittering crew will know, this included a two-hour stretch, but I finally got through and got an appointment booked for today. I was told that the engineer would ring me Wednesday night or Thursday morning to give me a time-slot.

No phone call last night; no panic. No phone call this morning. Huh? So I ring, and following the correct menu options, I am told that they are exceptionally busy and can't take my call. This happens three times, with intervals in between. the fourth time, I cheat and use the wrong menu options, to get through and be told that the call was booked for next Wednesday. I went ballistic in a controlled non-sweary way. (Although I did suggest the operator stopped calling me Mrs, as she had asked for the full title as on my account and that sure as hell ain't Mrs. I also asked she stopped implying I was a liar, which she seemed to concede I was not, when I repeated the message about expecting a call Wednesday night or Thursday morning).

I explained I had taken the day off work, now to no avail. I also explained that I have now run out of holiday allowance, which isn't quite true, because I still have a half day left, but I want to take a day for my birthday, which occurs before the new leave year.

We eventually agreed on a rescheduled day for this Monday, which happens to be convenient-ish, because I don't work Mondays as a rule.

And I know the simple answer, a letter of complaint to Sky. Which will happen. And, in fairness, the last time I complained to them, although their reply was not prompt, it was comprehensive, apologetic and included a refund of my call-out fee and a waiver of a month's subscription, which struck me as fair. (If they had prevaricated or evaded I would have gone the full 'my time costs this much,' but because they offered without being asked, I accepted. But why do I feel I have such a backlog of complaint letters to so many different money-grabbing corporations that are barely fit for purpose. Sigh.

I did point out that there is something really important I want to record off the radio on Saturday, and if that messes up, I will be upset. She did suggest I recorded it straight to video, by-passing the digibox, which hadn't occurred to me, but it's not an ideal solution, and I have to remember how to do that.

Thankfully, although there's loads of new exciting stuff on Artsworld, most of what they're showing between now and then is either already in my collection or else due to be repeated later.

The Stupidest Question Ever Asked...

How does one send an email to Microsoft?

I know that they are firm that specialises in computers, but they don't seem to have quite grasped the basic concept of the internet.

I tried to send them an email last night through their publicised 'abuse@' email address. But they sent me back an automated bounce message saying that they can't process it unless it's from a hotmail address.

That leaves me with two options - to telephone their Cambridge campus on an 0870 (expensive) number, which isn't very helpful, I don't think. Firstly, will I actually get to someone who can deal with something that originates in the USA. And secondly, if I do, I shall end up having to read out a hyperlink which, you know, might be just easier to communicate via an email.

Or I suppose I could get myself a hotmail address. I suspect I probably have about three already, no doubt clogged up with spam. Then I'd have to keep checking it on a web interface on the off-chance that they might reply, rather than waiting for a 'k-off email to drop into my inbox.

I can only conclude that Microsoft know less about t'internet than I do or that they are utterly indifferent to someone breaching their Terms of Use to break the laws of the USA and UK to make death threats.

It's going to have be a police matter, I think.

Our telly's broke

I think it's just the switch. It went a year or so ago, and we got a good ticking off for leaving the TV on standby. We do that seldom now, and never overnight or when we're out, partly because we're trying to save the planet* but mainly because we want to save the telly.

In all the years of being in possession of TV I've never had a switch go. There was the hilarious incident of the Remote Control. Basically, I had a TV remote control that wouldn't control the TV. I did all the sensible things like changing the batteries, checking the battery contacts, wiping the transmitting bit, wiping the receiving bit, borrowing a friend's remote control, and it still wouldn't work. So I called the repair man. I was given a slot of two-six, which was less than ideal, because being that this was the last Monday in April 1997, there were a great number of envelopes to stuff at the nerve centre. And a Governors' meeting at 6.30.

Five to six, no repair man, so I ring up, stressing that I was a very important Chair of Governors of a doomed school with a key meeting "with the Education authority at 6.30". At five past six, repair man turns up, takes one look at my gender and says "Have you changed the batteries?" I explained all the steps I had taken so he went to the corner shop to get some new batteries. Surprise surprise, the remote didn't work. So he declared that I needed a new remote but he didn't carry one on the van. I explained that my friend's didn't work either, so he said he would drop off a new remote control tomorrow morning. I don't think so, I said, I'm having my photo taken with Glenda Jackson tomorrow morning** He didn't know who Glenda Jackson was.

The next day, following my date with Glenda, I phoned up and they promised a repair man on Wednesday. I don't think so, I said, I've got thousands of leaflets to deliver, so we agreed Thursday. I promised there would be *someone* in all day.

Mid-afternoon, a different repair man arrived and was rather overwhelmed by the pictures of Keith Hill and Tony Blair on my front door, the evidence of organised chaos that typified a Committee Room*** and the splendid finger buffet that awaited all visitors. I explained the saga and he said "I think there's probably a broken connection," took the TV apart, fiddled around in that mysterious way that repair men do and, hey presto, a functioning remotely controlled TV. The afternoon news was on, a bit strange on Official No News Day, with reports from the polls, early exits predicting a Labour victory, possibly even with a working majority. "Lady Olga Maitland's my MP," he said. "I expect she'll get back in again." He didn't seem too upset at that. Having consumed the Guardian book of the election I knew we weren't targeting Sutton and Cheam, I afforded him a magnanimous smile. When he had gone, the assorted comrades agreed that the Tories losing Sutton and Cheam would be like an unprecedented political revolution. Lady Olga Maitland, where is she now...?

Meanwhile half an hour ago I settled down to watch last night's The Amazing Mrs Pritchard. Look, I know, my BA(Hons) is in Politics. It's ludicrous patronising tosh with very little political understanding or appreciation. But what else to expect from the media. But it is pretty entertaining if you set aside absolutely everything you have learnt about the British Political System.

As a by the way, my Esteemed Employer, in a corporate sense, entertained various editors of Women's magazines recently and said editors were interviewed about, amongst other things, their impressions of Esteemed Employer. There seemed to be a consensus on the gorgeousness of the building, but would you believe that quite a few of them were surprised it wasn't full of men in grey suits. I'm not sure what century, or parallel universe, they live in, but are there any workplaces of any significant size that is stuffed with men in grey suits? We even have some minority ethnic people. And people with disabilities. And gay people, too.

I still don't understand why I suddenly can't record Five on the Sky+. Well, I can, but it sticks and jumps. Sky very nicely talked me through how to defrag the Sky+ box. This, apparently, should be done every few months, but it doesn't come in the standard instructions. Presumably because Sky have decided its customers are too thick to follow simple instructions without being talked through them on the phone. Seems pretty much Sky corporate policy - for heaven's sake don't ever give the public thefull facts.

With no telly I should probably go to bed early.

* or to be strictly accurate, murder it less quickly
** was anybody else there? Does anybody have a copy of that photo?
*** I know, I know Campaign Centre. I'm Old Labour. Get over it.

Things that are sent to try us

I mentioned a minor Oystercard saga a week or two back. We have replaced our Oystercards and I finally this morning got round to setting up Auto Top Up. All fine and dandy until I went to enter my Switchcard details. Card refused because it is due to expire within three months. As they do, eventually - something I have been aware of for a while (mainly the thought that the best way to get duplicate tickets for occasions when one inadvertently leaves them at home cough cough is to produce the card by which one paid for them).

I can kind of see Oystercard's logic - no point in attempting to do Auto Top Up on an expired debit card. But my card isn't expired. There's a whole two months left on it. Potentially an awful lot of travelling in that time. If I hadn't have lost my Oystercard, I would be happily using ATU on the soon-to-expire Switchcard. They must have some mechanism by which, come 1 October, something triggers a refusal to ATU on an expired card, which would have affected me in the status quo ante, so I am not impressed by their unnecessary control being imposed at this premature stage (or indeed, if applicable, any time in July). I expect that the arrival of a new card in the post, followed at some point by the email from keithprowse@oyster would have triggered a process in my brain to update details on the ATU page.

I rang up my bank and they said they don't normally send replacements out until a week or two before they're due to expire, which makes sense to me. Although they decided to make an exception in my case.

I just get irritated when things which are supposed to be lifehacks end up causing more hassle.

Every Little Helps

The internet can be so informative...

The only cconclusion that can be draw from this is that Tesco has nothing but contempt for its English customers. If North British or West British people refuse to buy anything in their local Tesco with an English flag on it then screw them - the English are 85% of the population of the UK.

Tesco will take no action

Tesco acknowledges that promotion of first and second baby milk (infant formula) is illegal, but does not say it will take any action to stop the recurring promotions of these products in its stores.

Tesco ignores the ban on promotion of follow-on milks contained in the Code and falsely claims that these products can be both promoted and demonstrated in store.

Tesco Ely Axe Free Bus Service

When Tesco moved from it’s Broad Street premises (also relocating it’s popular Market Street Home and Wear store a few years later) to it’s larger store in Angel Drove, Tesco always maintained it would provide a free bus shuttle for those without access to transport. The majority of people who use it are elderly and don’t have their own transport.

The Ongoing Tesco Saga

See Dear Tesco

Because they started work at 7.30 this morning (according to Jimmy) and because their drill was going at 13:45, I replied:

Dear Steven Phillips

This is still a wholly inadequate reply.

Firstly, I am not a 'customer'; I am writing as someone who has had the anti-social behaviour of Tesco imposed on me irrespective of choice. So please do not patronise  me by calling me a 'customer'.

Secondly,  the paragraph  "When an Enforcement Officer agrees to undertake enquiries on behalf of one of our customers, we are unable to make direct comment to that customer until we are informed that all investigations have been concluded. No customer details are released until that time " is a complete abrogation of responsibility. Please do not try and pretend that some part of the Data Protection Act means you are unable to respond to my complaint. As you are no doubt aware, Local Authority Noise Enforcement sections are inundated with requests for help, especially in hot weather such as we have been having lately.

Thirdly, irrespective of whether or not my local authority are taking enforcement action, the fact remains that as I write, Saturday 13:45, your contractors are acting illegally in continuing their building work to the extent that it is encroaching on my right to enjoy the peace of my home. Previously, Tesco may have pleaded ignorance; I have now drawn it to your attention twice - this is the third time - and I do not believe there is any defence in law to continuing illegal acts having been notified that they are illegal.

As it is clear that Tesco have no intention of acting in a considerate way to neighbours, I feel that I am left with a choice of options. One is to consult my solicitor, which I shall do on Monday afternoon unless I receive a sensible reply to my correspondence. The second is to organise a leafletting campaign, including a picket of the store on Friday, its opening day, which I am perfectly capable of doing. Thirdly is merely to alert the local and national media to the sheer contempt in which Tesco holds ordinary people.

Finally, you have not acknowledged my request to meet with your store manager to discuss issues regarding the safety and enjoyment of my home. These issues include noise and parking: I am very concerned that Tesco customers will park in a way that will block access - including emergency access - to my house and that of my immediate neighbours. Your corporate silence on this matter will be included in any press release I write for the media.

I look forward to a constructive reply. In the meantime, I shall copy this to the local residents associations.

Yours sincerely

Gert Blog

I sent this at 13:58.