Employee of the month…

A while ago, I'm sure you’d be quite staggered to find that I had a billing issue with a certain media monstrosity whose hymen is still completely intact. I won’t go too much into the problem as that is not why I’m posting. No, this is all about the complaint call.

This was not the first time I had called them regarding my being-royally-fucked-about-ness. As so often seem to be the case, I had previously endured being dragged through the soul destroying ‘first line’...i.e. being promised the absolute earth just to get you off the phone, whilst refusing to confirm anything in writing because it’s 'not company policy’. What does appear to be 'company policy' however, is: 'Don't even bother to note down the customer complaint, as you are far too busy nudging your bumchum in the next seat, pointing to your earpiece, belming, and making the universal hand gesture for ‘wanker’...

And lo, after another month had passed and I came to the gruesome realisation that I had once again been spoon-fed a pigs trough of reconstitued bollocks, it was time to call again. Now, usually before I call in these situation, I like to have a quick run through in my head of possible scenarios, so I can get my shit together in accordance with my meagre expectations of how these kind of calls usually go. If you’ll indulge me, this is what I expected:

I dial the number.

Recorded message: “Thank you for calling Mega-bastards who-have-yet-to-have-one-slid-up-‘em Media. For sales press ‘1’, to give us more of your cash that we frankly don’t deserve, press 2..." and so on. Ten minutes drip by, even the voice on the recorded message is bored by this point, but then you eventually stumble across: ‘For billing enquiries or complaints, press 7362534i4594733'. I press the number.

Recorded message: “We’re sorry, but there is a queue, Your call means fuck all is important to us, please hold the line". Several years pass by, my clothes are now tattered rags and I have a long straggly beard like Robinson Crusoe before finally, A ‘human being’ decides to answer:

'Human Being':“You're through to a drone from Money-grabbing mong-monkeys whose cherry has not yet been popped Media. Please give me your name, account number, the name of your great great grandfather’s Labra-doodle, and 17 independently scrutinised samples of your DNA". I comply.

Me: *Complain, complain, whinge, bleat, moan, bitch, plead, beg, gibber, wibble, etc.*

Call Centre Cretin: "Of course sir, Please allow me to promise you the earth".

Me: "Oh no you fucking don’t dearie…NOT THIS TIME!"

CCC: "Oh bollocks, fair enough."

Hopefully, we would then proceed to lump ourselves kicking and screaming to some sort of compromise. I know, Naive aren’t I?

So with this ‘rehearsal' in mind, I dial the number and it transpires exactly as I envisioned, right up to the point where I finally get put through to the Call Centre Cretin, and I brace myself for a deluge of corporate branding and fake, ‘faux American’, sugar-flavoured snot scmaltz...

Fuck-a-doodle-do, I was so wrong...and in no way prepared for what happened next.

CCC: "HIYAAAAAA!!!!" *exudes outrageous happiness*

Me (somewhat taken aback) : "Hello, I’m calling about my bill".

CCC: You whaaaat?

Me (now quite flabbergasted): Erm….this is ‘billing enquires’, isn't it?

CCC: Naaaah!

Me (Now wondering which parallel dimension I have been mercilessly thrust into: "EXCUSE ME??"



Brief pause…



CCC: "Oh......hang on…..I mean, yeah it is! Hahahahhahaaaaa!, I forgot!….you see, I used to work with Dave!..."

ME (struck completely dumb): "Mmmmf!"

She then chuntered on for about 5 minutes, completely oblivious to my seething, explaining how she had previously worked in a different department with the (apparent 'legend') that was ‘Dave…you know…BIG DAVE!’ before she was transferred (what a surprise). As I rummaged around the house looking for a gun so I could end it all, this talented exponent of utter fuckwittery then divulged that she had actually been transferred TWO FUCKING MONTHS BEFORE, yet she still could not remember where she was or what she was doing.

I just hope she was hungover or something, because I don’t want to live in a world where anyone could be quite so window-licking, downright thick with just the one head.

Then again, by now she probably fucking runs the place.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 10:16, 10 replies)

How did yo know my pasword
(todj, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 10:33, closed)

How did yo know my pasword 7362534i4594733
(todj, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 10:35, closed)

actually it's utter fuckwittery
(todj, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 10:37, closed)

The most jaw dropping call I ever made to the big V
After the usual soul destroying wait on hold, I got through and explained my problem. It turned out to take quite a while to fix - so long that it exceeded the 20 minute limit, and she had to call me back. I expected the worst, but no, she called back immediately.

She was patient, helpful, and - amazingly - actually seemed to know what she was doing. We eventually tracked down a fairly obscure configuration problem and fixed it. At the end of the call she even thanked ME for being patient!

I'm still reeling with surprise. No doubt she was first to go the last time they had any restructuring...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 10:59, closed)

There are a few...

...within 'Waiting to be deflowered Media' that are decent.

Strangely, in my experience they have always been Scottish.

I wonder if someone out there can confirm if there is a special department in Bonnie Scotland, where trapped somewhere deep in the basement are a tiny, unappreciated clutch of engineers who actually give the slightest quivering fuck about what they are doing, and are capable of doing it.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 11:07, closed)

"Hello, IT. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 11:25, closed)

Ha ha!...

(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 11:44, closed)

I answered a call (that I was expecting) from a Sales Weasel, and answered the phone with exactly that.
Bloke laughed so hard he had to put the phone down on the desk for a minute.
( Alex Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver!, Wed 29 Feb 2012, 0:32, closed)

Dealing also with BT...
...you find the Scots are usually pretty bang on.
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 18:05, closed)

hymen is still completely intact
*click*
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Sun 26 Feb 2012, 23:55, closed)