Due to numerous requests [two, actually], I am repeating the article I wrote for the Irish Times. It was written before my recent experiences where I had total broadband failure. Things are much better since. To the three people who read the article – I apologise for boring you.
This article is all based on fact, as are all my articles.
I’m having a bit of trouble with my broadband connection. Not serious. It just gets a little slow at times.
I like my broadband, because Herself likes to hog the phone, and she used to complain that I was stunting her social life when I was on dial-up.
I decided to phone my broadband company, so I made myself a big mug of tea, stoked up the pipe, and settled back for what I knew would be a long session. How right I was.
First of all, I had to go through all the usual automated “Press 5 for Lost Causes” crap that I hate so much. Finally, I got through to support. Well, at least the phone started ringing.
After a while, the ringing tone stopped and I got a nasal American voice telling me “how important my call was to them and to please hold on”. If my call is so important, then why don’t they answer it?
Then I got the music. Oh God! Then another voice cuts in [just as I’m starting to sing along] and informs me that I can always e-mail my complaint. I’ve tried that. They never answer. Back to the music….
Finally a real live person answered. But this is a call centre. And they like employing foreign nationals. Preferably ones who can’t speak English. I couldn’t understand a word he said, so rather that be rude, I hung up.
So I went through the whole procedure again. At least this time, I knew the words to the song. And finally I got through to support again.
“May I have your address, please?” says she [at least she knew the language].
I told her.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t serve that area. I’ll pass you through to Sales”, and before I can say anything, she does. Ahhhhhhh!
The Sales person came on and asked what service I wanted to subscribe to. I patiently explained that I already had the service, and that I had been on to Support, and that they had transferred me. “Ah! You’ll need to talk to them if you already have the service. You’ll have to ring back in as I can’t transfer you”.
I take four more Prozac and start again.
This time, I get back to the same girl in Support.
“May I have your address, please?” says she.
“Don’t transfer me to Sales” says I.
“Pardon?” says she.
I explained that the last time I gave her my address; she told me they didn’t serve my area, and had transferred me to Sales. I then said I did have the service and wanted to talk about Support”
This really confused her, but she decided to humour me.
“What is the nature of the problem?” says she.
“It isn’t as fast as it should be” says I.
“We have had no reports of any problems” says she.
“Well, you have now”
This irritated her. Maybe she should try Prozac. I’m on my sixth.
“It’s probably your PC” says she. “You must have a virus”.
“It’s not and I don’t” says I.
“How do you know?”
“Because I own my own support company and have a master’s degree in computing”. I don’t, but she wasn’t to know that.
She now though she was up against an expert and this scared her. No bluffing now!
“I’ll have one of our engineers call you”
I felt like saying that if I was on to Support I should already be talking to an engineer, but after ten Prozac I didn’t care any more. I hung up.
He never did call.