The Call Centre

I had it all worked out, what I was going to write today, until I saw Homer Simpson lying prone, motionless and soundless on my TV!

My first thoughts were " I have magically been granted Sky + or Tivo", after pressing the obvious buttons and then prodding absolutely every one for the heck of it, I noticed an ugly red light on the set-top box where it should have been a pleasing shade of green.

On cue, teenage daughter arrived from the magical kingdom (otherwise known as "MY ROOM"). "Daaaaaaaaaaad, the internets down". At that point there was absolutely no need to panic. She passed Information Technology with an 'A' Merit. She knew exactly what to do. She turned it off and waited 10 seconds and turned it on again. Even with her credentials the red light refused to be impressed.

Ok, ok! I admit the concern was mounting. Every adult knows if a teenager can't fix it you've got a problem. The time had come to re-assert my head of the household status. I would call the "help-desk"!

Manfully I picked up the handset, I pushed the green dial button, I dialed 150 and......................nothin'. The phoneline was down too. I started to feel grateful for the daily blood-pressure suppressants.

Of course, I have a mobile phone. Unfortunately, said mobile has an aversion to working indoors which results in most conversations consisting of " sorry mate, I can't hear you"or "say that again , you're breaking up". It was last resort time.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaarlin', can I use your mobile?" Asking one's daughter for usage of her pink life-line to the world was ignominious enough but as needs must.

What ensued was an abject lesson in how not to put a smile on my face. The call was answered with the following message; " thank you for calling XXX, calls from your XXX landline are free but please be aware that calls from other landlines or mobiles may be charged". GRRRR!

Then the neverending menu options, sub-menus and sub-sub-menus. Eventually, a human being answered.

"Good evening, thank you for calling XXX help-desk my name is Simon how can I help you?" No! Your name is not Simon, I am obviously through to Mumbai or Delhi. Your name may be Sahar, it may be Samir or even Sanjay but it's not bloody Simon. Why is an English name meant to make us feel better. I wouldn't call up my local Indian delivery service and expect to talk to Tristram Hetherington-Smythe.

For some obscure reason known only to Asian call center trainers, staff are taught to speak to customers in a manner not heard of since the "Last Days of the Raj". Obsequious to the extreme. Nevertheless, I told "Simon" what wasn't happening with my services. "Please Sir, I hope you don't mind holding on but I will have to put you on hold while I check out the problem". Okey, dokey.

Five, yes five minutes later "Simon" was back. "Yes Sir, you are right all the services are down in your area," thanks for confirming I'm not losing my mind, "our engineers are working on the problem. It should all be fine in 4-6 hours". "Hmm, "Simon", thats all well and good but firstly am I going to be compensated for this lack of service and secondly are you going to refund the cost of this call from what is obviously not a XXX landline?" And then came the killer response. "Well Sir, I really don't know, you will have to call back tomorrow and speak to a UK call centre". AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

I'm going to get my revenge though. I keep getting called by an automated system from one of my credit card suppliers. It calls three times, cuts off and leaves a message saying "You've been called by YYY credit card and we will call back later". Next time it calls I'm going to name the disembodied voice..........Devendra.