"It would be like cutting off my left hand.."
This morning, in leiu of actually doing some work, I attempted to upgrade my mobile phone as our cleaning products have disappeared to my flatmate's boyfriend's house, meaning that I'm not able to exert my energy elsewhere.
So far, four phone calls. So far, no upgrade.
On my first attempt, I was passed from Upgrades to Customer Services, where I was promptly told that I wasn't allowed to access my own account. Right. After ranting at the obnoxious assistant, I hung up, hit the internet to be armed, and hit redial.
This time, going on information that I had been given by the first woman in Upgrades during my last call, I headed straight for the Customer Services option from the robot menu. A mechanical voice told me to redial on a different number. Ho hum.
Third call, different number, another robotic voice, which informs me that this number is no longer in use and to please dial the original number.
As I once again redial the first number, I'm beginning to feel every so slightly annoyed. After manoeuvering through the robotic voice menu, avoiding both the Upgrade and Customer Services buttons, I finally got hold of a human at the other end. Hallelujah.
However, what ensued was a complete farce. After finally being granted access to my account and explaining that I would like to upgrade my handset after six months as the one they sold me last time was cack, spend a small fortune with your services, yadda yadda yadda, the surprisingly sympathetic phone jockey put me on hold whilst she rang Upgrades to have a gander.
Some delightfully bland pop blared into my ear as I sat patiently on hold. Click. 'Hi, sorry, no can do. But you say the problem is your handset?'
Once again, I reiterated my story- when I have paid for a handset, I expect it to work correctly. As a text reliant user, I don't feel my handset is working properly when SMS messages take four days to arrive in my inbox. Nor do I feel that all is well with my handset when the display flips upside down whilst I am using it.
'Let me put you on hold, I'll get on the phone to Nokia about this.'
Once again, my ear is blasted with the cheesiest of pop as I wait and wait. Click. 'Hi, sorry, Nokia can't give you a replacement handset, but they can repair it for you.' She then calmly adds that it would probably take about a week, maybe two. To this, I found myself calmly replying that I was a student and therefore unable to afford both a landline AND a mobile, giving them my only communication porthole with the world would be a bit like cutting off my left hand too.
The thing is, if I thought it was just my phone, then maybe I would consider sending it off. Unfortunately for Nokia, I've met other people with the same phone and the same gripes, so repairing it probably won't go a long way.
Again, there's nothing else they can do.
I feel like screaming blue murder at these people. Can I BUY a handset? Well, yes, for £300. Option shot down. I then proceed to point out that surely it's in the company's interest for me, the loyal customer, to have a phone that works, that I can use. A working phone means I will use it, the more I use it,the more money I will spend with the company. Everybody wins.
Sympathetic phone jockey emphasises and agrees that the system is ridiculous. I hope for her sake that the phone calls aren't recorded, or she could end up like one of my friends, Mark*.
Mark was a first year student I knew who supplemented his student loan with a part time job working for a large multimedia company in their customer services department. After working there for a while, listening day in day out to peoples' complaints, Mark finally cracked one day and day to agree with a customer who was ranting about the lack of service he received and about the company's CEO. A few days later, he arrived at work, to be called into the floor manager's office, where once he was seated, a small tape recorder was produced. The floor manager pressed play and the above conversation thundered out.
Mark was promptly fired and escorted out of the building by security. So perhaps this is why so many of customer services workers are snipey and rude. They simply fear that if they are vaguely nice to the customer, they risk the firing squad.
Enough story telling for today, I've spent far too much time griping and not enough time thinking about lunch.
[* -name changed to protect former employee's nuts from being mangled by heavies]
So far, four phone calls. So far, no upgrade.
On my first attempt, I was passed from Upgrades to Customer Services, where I was promptly told that I wasn't allowed to access my own account. Right. After ranting at the obnoxious assistant, I hung up, hit the internet to be armed, and hit redial.
This time, going on information that I had been given by the first woman in Upgrades during my last call, I headed straight for the Customer Services option from the robot menu. A mechanical voice told me to redial on a different number. Ho hum.
Third call, different number, another robotic voice, which informs me that this number is no longer in use and to please dial the original number.
As I once again redial the first number, I'm beginning to feel every so slightly annoyed. After manoeuvering through the robotic voice menu, avoiding both the Upgrade and Customer Services buttons, I finally got hold of a human at the other end. Hallelujah.
However, what ensued was a complete farce. After finally being granted access to my account and explaining that I would like to upgrade my handset after six months as the one they sold me last time was cack, spend a small fortune with your services, yadda yadda yadda, the surprisingly sympathetic phone jockey put me on hold whilst she rang Upgrades to have a gander.
Some delightfully bland pop blared into my ear as I sat patiently on hold. Click. 'Hi, sorry, no can do. But you say the problem is your handset?'
Once again, I reiterated my story- when I have paid for a handset, I expect it to work correctly. As a text reliant user, I don't feel my handset is working properly when SMS messages take four days to arrive in my inbox. Nor do I feel that all is well with my handset when the display flips upside down whilst I am using it.
'Let me put you on hold, I'll get on the phone to Nokia about this.'
Once again, my ear is blasted with the cheesiest of pop as I wait and wait. Click. 'Hi, sorry, Nokia can't give you a replacement handset, but they can repair it for you.' She then calmly adds that it would probably take about a week, maybe two. To this, I found myself calmly replying that I was a student and therefore unable to afford both a landline AND a mobile, giving them my only communication porthole with the world would be a bit like cutting off my left hand too.
The thing is, if I thought it was just my phone, then maybe I would consider sending it off. Unfortunately for Nokia, I've met other people with the same phone and the same gripes, so repairing it probably won't go a long way.
Again, there's nothing else they can do.
I feel like screaming blue murder at these people. Can I BUY a handset? Well, yes, for £300. Option shot down. I then proceed to point out that surely it's in the company's interest for me, the loyal customer, to have a phone that works, that I can use. A working phone means I will use it, the more I use it,the more money I will spend with the company. Everybody wins.
Sympathetic phone jockey emphasises and agrees that the system is ridiculous. I hope for her sake that the phone calls aren't recorded, or she could end up like one of my friends, Mark*.
Mark was a first year student I knew who supplemented his student loan with a part time job working for a large multimedia company in their customer services department. After working there for a while, listening day in day out to peoples' complaints, Mark finally cracked one day and day to agree with a customer who was ranting about the lack of service he received and about the company's CEO. A few days later, he arrived at work, to be called into the floor manager's office, where once he was seated, a small tape recorder was produced. The floor manager pressed play and the above conversation thundered out.
Mark was promptly fired and escorted out of the building by security. So perhaps this is why so many of customer services workers are snipey and rude. They simply fear that if they are vaguely nice to the customer, they risk the firing squad.
Enough story telling for today, I've spent far too much time griping and not enough time thinking about lunch.
[* -name changed to protect former employee's nuts from being mangled by heavies]
posted by adulescent at 11:06 PM
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