elegantly dressed call centres
This is not who I was talking to yesterday at Virgin Bloody Media. She's not who I was talking to at the bank. She's also not the pre-recorded machine I had to talk to three separate times - the one that, when you refuse to "key in your 16-digit card number," because it's fiddly and long and you know it's just the precursor to keying in your entire birthday and street address, digit by painful digit - says to you in its fake machine-voice singsong jolly way, emphasising all the wrong words, "I'm sorry, I seem to be having some difficulty with this call!" (When I finally railed back at it, "No - I'm the one who's flipping having 'difficulty'! You're not real!" my colleague burst out laughing. I should add that it was about 6.45pm, and he was putting his shoes on after an after-work yoga session, looking very chilled out, whereas I was going apoplectic by that stage.) Nor is it the next person I spoke to at the bank, who kept putting me on mute - so I couldn't just tell her what the source of the problem was, I just had to sit there fuming while she checked inessential facts, over the course of about a 20-minute conversation that got me precisely nowhere. Nor is it the one after that, who finally worked out what the problem in fact actually was. (He also had the advantage of having slightly better English than the other two.)
It seems that the nice guy at the actual branch, where I had spent my entire lunch hour transferring money and generally trying to get my affairs in order, had made a mistake - which has resulted in yours truly being without a bank card for the next 7-10 working days. There's nothing anyone can do about it, apparently, even though it's not my fault. This isn't him, either.
It isn't any of the three people I spoke to (increasingly heatedly) at Virgin Media this morning, with the net result that I still can't pay my bill and I still can't get my internet turned back on at home, nor can I do anything to prevent the likely disconnection of my phone or my telly, because they are completely inflexible, as well as, in fact, quite snotty, and in one case seriously misinformed. The money is in my account, and I have done little for the past two days except try to pay the sodding bill - which has only arisen in the first place as a result of a) the inflexibility of Virgin Media and b) my erroneous assumption that reinstating my direct debit had worked. Silly me.
I feel that this nice lady is well-informed; you can tell by her watch strap and belt. And look at her lovely pockets! She also isn't any of the supervisors, who although they are not allowed to come on the phone and are clearly not authorised to make any allowances or discretionary decisions, must exist. There is never anyone you can go to, is there. It's just a behemoth, which is a huge clunking stupid creature.
Not a very elegant pose to strike!
And not at all like this kind telephonist, who is in the very act of helping someone speak to the person who can help them.
Edited in: Well, I found the person who could help me, and her name is the Cat Lady. I rang the Fiends of Hell last night with her credit card details and got my services switched back on - all I have to do now is go back to the bank for my Billing Account meeting tomorrow lunchtime, re-establish this direct debit ((possibly by ringing Virgin again, I don't know), and take the Cat Lady out for a coffee on Saturday and pay her back.
She told me she's going to be watching her bills very closely - but by then it'll be too late! Does anyone want anything off Amazon?
5 comments:
They are complete bastards. I paid them what they asked, took the sensible precaution of cancelling the direct debit, and next thing I knew found I was being sent letters from their bailiffs. One very cross phone call later, to a woman who'd heard it all before, and they have vanished from my life for ever...
No wonder they shied away from giving Richard Branson control of Northern Rock. Not that the govt will do a better job, mind you.
This is why I've stayed with the same bank since I was fourteen, even though I'm no longer resident in the country where the bank is based. Because they don't have an automated phone service and they always say yes!
My respectably employed husband has to wring pints of blood from his socks down the phone in order to get a £50 overdraft from Barclays. My bank - which shall remain nameless - hands out overdrafts of several hundred pounds to me on a regular basis, with no fee and no interest payable unless I go over the limit - even though I don't have a 'proper' job but am merely an underpaid poet and general writing skivvie.
The only drawback is having to do everything over the phone, and having to pay in cheques by post, which can be tiresome. Oh yes, and having to suffer the occasional indignity of the taxman 'investigating' my bank statements, as it's an offshore account!
I do feel for you, stuck with these incompetent and inflexible machine-people ...
Do your automated options include a choice of languages? We are blessed with that menu of choices. "For English, press 1. For Spanish, press 2 [but said in Spanish, of course]. For ungrammatical English, press 3. For a patois of Gullah and Inuit, press any old number and just see what happens. To speak to a live, but comatose, yet surly, technician, please stay on the line. Indefinitely. Till hell freezes over, pigs fly, and customer service is anything but an oxymoron. Your call is important to us. Why, at this very moment, a team of The Indifferent is rolling on the floor, clutching their sides, and laughing at you. Thank you for your patience. Now the greatest hits of Barry Manilow. Played on an accordion. Badly."
Ben, I hate them too. But who are you with now, Sky? See, they can't be any better, and I think Virgin owns my cables. Or Telewest still does, Who knows. And you know that to set up on BT they charge £120 for the privilege - and I've heard horror stories about their broadband. Anyway I'm on a contract.
Jane, I've been with the same bank since 1988; that's 20 years now and look what I get. I switched over from Barclays, and it's always been fine - overdrafts, etc - but lately with all this automation it is hellish. And thr guy who made the mistake was really sweet, you can't blame him, I just object to the fact that the bank has forgotten about rectifying mistakes.
In January they didn't pay my rent - just, you know, didn't put it through. My landlords charged me £10 interest. Now, even though it was the bank's error, just not putting through my standing order, and even though I spoke to two people at the branch sorting it out (over another whole lunch hour), the onyl way I can claim back that £110 is buy pursuing an official complaint, in writing, etc etc, which I'm expected to do on top of my job and everything else.
Richard, if only it was as funny as that it might all be worth it... You're right though, the music they play is both horrible and strange.
I'm with BT, and they are inflexible when things go wrong. That said, I joined them years ago and got a free modem, two webcams (which I gave away) and a waiver on the connection fee. I've now got the home hub wireless thingy, which they gave me for free and cut my bill into the bargain. It's just they gave me a dud broadband telephone number and it took weeks of phoning India before they transferred my call to Blighty and we sorted it out.
My techie friends sometimes recommend these people: https://www.bethere.co.uk/
I've been banking with the Peterborough branch of the Royal Bank of Scotland since I was 18. They are rather good to me, though it's handy being able to do most of the stuff online these days. Paying in cheques does mean posting them or taking a trip down to Islington, though.
Post a Comment