Customer Service - or lack thereof

You know it's going to be an eventful holiday when you've booked the wrong coach tickets. And it's nearly one in the morning, and there are no more coaches to Gatwick apart from this one, and you have no money in the bank because it's the day before payday, and all you have is Euro's.

So, we booked the wrong coach. We were a week late for it, in fact. It's an easy mistake to make, but when you're confronted with a smug National Express Driver who stands and holds your ticket for what seems like HOURS, and then, very cheerfully informs you that 'your ticket is worthless, love' , well it's basically fucking annoying.

When I asked very politely if there was any way he could possibly let us on anyway, taking into account the circumstances, he repeated 'Your ticket is worthless, love. Worthless. It's worthless'. I was on the verge of saying 'shut up, you dumb prick, I heard you the first time', but Ben had seen my face and gripped my arm. Swearing at this point would make us miss our flight.

Resigning myself to the fact that we were going to have to shell out for another ticket at twice the price of an advanced ticket, I politely enquired whether they took card. You'd have thought I was Ricky Gervias. 'Hahahahaha' he chortled. 'Card? Where am I going to swipe it?' He turned around, indicating his massive rear end. 'Here?' I suppose he thought it was funny. It was not. In fact, a few minutes later when I recovered from the shock, I realised that it was fucking rude. But all I said in reply was 'that's not funny'.

Ben ran to the cashpoint, hoping that our payday money had come through. All we had was Euro's, having emptied our bank accounts to buy currency. He came back empty handed. I turned back to the smug faced driver, whose face was becoming more slappable by the second.

'Look, all we have are Euro's. We don't have any cash, we're waiting to be paid. We'll miss our flight if you don't let us on. Please can you take this int...'. He interrupted again. 'Euros! I ain't never heard of Euro's! What's Euro's?'

'Of course you know what Euro's are, you stupid prr....' Ben slapped his hand over my mouth. Fortunately, a man interrupted us before the coach driver realised what I was about to say.
'I'll exchange some Euro's with you.'

I could have kissed him. We did the deal, paid an extortionate £60 for one-way tickets and I spent the rest of the journey swearing quietly under my breath.

I did send a complaint into National Express (explaining the swipe it in my arse comment was particularly tricky) and was very surprised to receive a very apologetic email, saying that the driver would be disciplined and that I would receive a refund. It arrived a couple of days ago. So well done the the Customer Relations department. Perhaps they should become drivers instead.

X-Factor

Now don't get me wrong. I love X Factor as much as the next person. And I don't care what anyone says, you all bloody love it. You love cringing, laughing, marvelling or crying at the auditions, you keep tissues for the Judges Houses and feverishly press the red button on your remote control on the Live Shows. X Factor for me is the run-up to Christmas, my Saturday nights sorted, and an excuse to slag off Louis Walsh (although at the moment, poor man, I do feel for him.)

Anyway, as I was saying, I love X Factor as much as anyone. But what does really irk me is the incredibly repetitive music choices. EVERY week they play Take That. Usually it's 'Greatest Day'. You know, the one where they have it playing in the background and then they fade up to 'AND THE WORLD COMES ALIVE' and cut to shots of people running towards each other in tears because they're through to bootcamp. Another one - 'Have a little patience' - usually when someone gets rejected by the judges. 'Shine' is usually used at the start of the show. I mean, really. Get a new band.

If trains could be improved...

I got the train back from Wimbledon the other day. In an attempt to save money, we'd booked way in advance and only paid £19 for a return from Bournemouth to London. The issue with advance tickets, however, is that you have to, no matter what, stick to the train you've booked. Yes, even if your nan is in hospital and your left leg is about to fall off.

Anyway - we booked the last train back to Bournemouth but arrived about an hour earlier. By now, I'd had about 3 hours sleep in 48 hours and had had enough. We asked two guards politely whether we could possibly get on an earlier train.

It was as if I'd asked whether we could travel standing naked on the roof of the train. 'Oh, no' one of them sniffed. 'No, you can't do THAT.' Of course, the reason was 'well, you just can't, you buy that ticket, you have to travel on that train'.
'But it's not causing any problems, if we just get on this train.'
'That's not the point'.
'Well what is the point then?' Of course, the point is that people like train conductors are taught to never take initiative or use their common sense, and not take risks that are more than their job's worth. But I let it go, and resigned myself to getting our original train.

I don't know if you've ever got a train late at night, when you're tired and wouldn't mind a kip. Well, don't try sleeping on the train. First off, the air con is so cold it rivals the training conditions for the antarctic race, the announcements are so loud that they could wake the dead, and the lights are so bright that your sunnies wouldn't go amiss.

Therefore, I suggest that the following practices be put in place on trains travelling after 10pm:

Turn the lights on low, issue cushions to passengers, allow passengers to have a wakeup call before their stop instead of announcements, and play soft classical music or the Harry Potter audiobooks to ensure restful sleep.

attention-seekers r us

Pretty much every time I log onto Facebook, I have the overwhelming urge to update my status to 'seriously, I really REALLY don't care.'

I know I ranted a while ago about people updating their statuses with exciting news like 'just swam with turtles'. I've changed my mind about those. Those are FINE. At least they're using their status for the purpose it's meant for - making people jealous or letting people know what you're up to, or maybe sharing something interesting like a good link, or at the very worst, expressing your frustration at a company or the government. 

In my not-so-humble opinion, that's fine. What really gets my goat is the whole 'so and so is extremely annoyed'. Or 'my heart is broken' or '...just had an overwhelming sense of anxiety+ loneliness come over me....I can't do this.'

Seriously. If you're having that much emotional trouble, please don't post it on facebook for everyone to see. It massively embarrassing. Talk to your psychologist please, not your online community of whom 50% actually pretend to give a shit.  Possibly even worse than this is couples who have an online 'status war'. They each update their status with 'cryptic' phrases, in an attempt to piss each other off, and their oh-so-lucky 'friends' get to watch the whole sorry show. Just have a fucking conversation please. Don't involve us in your childish, boring soap opera excuse of a relationship. 

Okay, I'm done for now. 

4:45pm · Comment · Like

Two sides to every story - or is there?

I've been following the G20 protests with interest this week. Part of me really wishes I lived in London, or thought ahead to take the day off and join in the protests. The other part of me is glad I didn't. Scary scenes of violence on the news made me feel relieved I'd missed out on that.

But what's really got me thinking is - who was at fault for the violence?

Various accounts on independent media state that the police violently attacked peaceful protesters at the Climate Camp around 7pm and again at midnight on Tuesday, held in the the middle of Square Mile this week. Video evidence can be found in various YouTube videos, including this one .

Other reports speak of police cordoning in around 4,000 protestors outside the Bank of England on Wednesday - this was not mentioned in any reports by the BBC.

In fact, watching BBC News at Ten on Wednesday night, it was suggested (not ever said outright - after all, the BBC is always balanced) by the coverage of the event, that the protesters were at fault. All the footage showed protestors kicking in RBS, protesters behaving violently, and the police keeping them under control.

While I don't agree with violence, I do wholeheartedly support and uphold the right to protest, and it is entirely possible, likely even, that police antagonised protestors into behaving violently.

The more I look around me, the more I see a state turning into one not at all dissimilar to George Orwell's Oceania, a society where the Thought Police rule. 

However, despite laments from those politically active during the 60's and 70's that today's society is apathetic, this week's events showed that we are not. 

PLEASE STOP PATRONIZING ME

I recently started a new job, which is pretty much exactly what I was doing last year but a little bit different, and it really, really, REALLY annoys me when people (who, in their defence are probably only trying to be nice) come into my office and make comments like 'picking it all up then?' and 'a lot to learn, isn't there?'. I smile and nod and make noises as if to say 'well, I'm coping, silly little me' when all I really want to do is look at them sarcastically and say 'I can do this job in my sleep. It's not hard, I'm not stupid, so will you please fuck off and leave me alone. Thank you.'

Of course, I can't really do that. But it really irks me when people assume that because I'm young looking (I often get mistaken for a student, and as I work at a university, that's usually not a good thing) that I'm also foolish and incapable.

I very often don't get taken seriously in meetings and it takes time to establish myself as organised, efficient and amazing-at-my-job. This is normal, I know. But I'm an impatient kind of person and I want that respect now. It doesn't help that I have authority issues, and when a particuarly pricky senior member of staff comes into meetings and starts lording it over me, I usually imagine taking my pen and stabbing it repeatedly into his face. Did I mention I have violent tendencies? Of course, I smile and nod as he vents his ridiculously formulated opinion which matches his super-inflated ego, and write notes to myself like '(enter name here) is a prickface'. Not particularly grown-up, I know, but I've got to live up to that 'bright young thing' reputation of mine somehow.

The other thing that really pisses me off in my job is that the people who are in senior positions are usually quite shit at their jobs, and are getting paid a crapload to sit at their desks and make poor decisions. How these people were ever employed by anybody, ever, in the first place, is a total mystery. It's always the minions like me and my counterparts who take pride in their work and have to stay long hours to make sure the job is done to a high standard, while those in the golden tower get all the credit and sit about congratulating themselves on being such clever, lazy fuckwits.

Anyway, it's probably time I stopped sitting around and venting and actually got on with some work. Looks like someone else is about to pop into my office with their patronising comments. Now, if you'll excuse me...

March fashion

It never ceases to amaze me how the sun in March seems to have magical properties. Sun in January, while almost non-existent, cheers us up marginally, but we still button up our coats and don hats and scarves to keep out that winter chill.

Sun in February might prise our mittens off our hands, but we're still wearing our knee-high boots and polarneck jumpers.

Sun in March, however, is a miracle worker. Jumpers are frivolously discarded. Scarves become obsolete, and flip flops the order of the day. Despite the fact that it's only about 2 degrees warmer in March than it is in February, girls have their legs out. Blokes have their legs out too. Even swimming in the sea becomes a recreational activity, not a charity fundraiser.

It's nice to see such optimism, however. It's as if we're all just waiting for the chance to celebrate summer, get into our bikini's and soak up the sun. Sadly, in reality, it's really not nearly as hot as we perceive it to be, and we all catch cold for being so very silly.

But it's not long to go. Soon we'll be wearing the latest summer gladrags and forgetting all about the nasty winter that preceded June. Until then, keep your spring coat on. Patience is a virtue, after all.