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.