It started with a "Ring ring"
as these things often do.

Early one Monday morning, 7:45 if I remember right, the phone rings. We don't officially open until 8:30, so generally its a colleague phoning in sick if it rings that early.

WeeWitch picked up the phone and gave the "Company Standard" greeting. In quite a cheery voice for that early in the morning. The thing with these greetings is that no-one actually listens. They just wait for you to stop talking and then its their turn.

A wee creaky, quavery voice, sounding just about old enough to remember when Edinburgh was all fields, proceeds to tell me,

"My home help hasn't come this morning. She's normally here by now."

There was a bit of a silence while I digested this nugget of information, then my brain shoved my gob into action.

"Oooookay, madam, I think you've maybe got the wrong number. This isn't the council. You'll need to phone them." With the emphasis on "them".

"But she's always here by half past seven. I can't get to the toilet without her. I really need to go, you know. Where is she?" croaked the old soul.

"I'm sorry madam, as I said, you have the wrong number. This is not the council. We don't send out home helps. You've maybe mis-dialled on your phone?" Unsatisfied with my complete lack of "home-help sending-ness", she said,

"I'm going to complain about you. I need my home help and you won't send her. Where is she?"

By this time the colleagues around me were all listening avidly, and I was simultaneously trying to keep a straight face and think of a way to get through to the old sod that I hadn't kidnapped her bloody home help. Once again, I tried my best, with my loudest, "talking to a slightly deaf imbecile" tone, to clarify the situation to our mutual satisfaction.

"Madam, I have already explained that this is not the council offices. This is a private company which does not have anything to do with the council, or home helps. I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. You will need to end this call, and redial the correct number to get through to the council. Do you understand?"

There was a brief silence, and I thought I'd won. Not so. Back she came, croaky but magnificently determined that I was going to send her home help round, right reason or none.

"You have to send her now. I can't hold it in forever, you know. She gets cross if I wet the bed. If she can't come, you'll have to send someone else round straight away. I'm going to complain about you."

I repeated my previous statement regarding our lack of home helps and she came back with a variation of what she'd already said. This continued for ten more minutes, as I repeatedly tried to get through to her that she had the wrong number. My patience was wearing very thin, and apparently so was hers. She lost the "polite" war and started swearing at me. Bingo! We're allowed to hang up on our own customers if they do that, far less some random old mad-woman in need of a pee.

I'm not particularly proud of this, but I couldn't resist by then. I asked her, in my sweetest voice, if she knew who I was? When she said no, I said "good" and hung up.

It was about ten minutes before my colleagues had all stopped laughing. We all eyed the phone with some trepidation for the rest of the day, but she never rang back. Thank god.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:59, 3 replies)

I deal with calls like this every day.
But I am obliged to do everything I can to resolve it, usually by tracking down the appropriate number, calling it myself and organising the carer/district nurse/doctor/home help on their behalf.
( NobbyNobody 21 years a b3tan, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 18:40, closed)

is that how you got the name
the wee witch? ;)
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 23:28, closed)

Old folk...
They do themselves no favours (senile or not) by seemingly assuming the world revolves around them.

Now, as I pointed out, this goes both ways, not just with the wrinklies who're missing a few shillings.

Fact is, if after having it explained to them twice, three times, whatever, that they have the wrong number and they DO need to call an alternative, I would most likely have put the phone down.

Old people in this day and age, with a slight minority to the case, seem to expect everyone to bend to their whim, regardless of the circumstance.

Go fuck yourselves, seriously. Yes, we're all quite aware you fought in a war, or your husband fought/died/was maimed in said war, but that gives you no right whatsoever to be malicious to ANYONE.

Manners cost bugger all, utilise them once in a while and you might get somewhere.
(HomeWithTheDownies A towering inferno of penisy pleasure, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 4:04, closed)