Dear Carphone Warehouse: Fuck you.

If I don’t rant about this now, it will result in a heart attack at 35.
Two months ago someone from the Carphone Warehouse rang me about upgrading my IPhone. They said I could have unlimited texts and 600 minutes for £25 a month, plus £150 cashback (via cheque). I was happy with this (obviously!) and agreed. I also got an email confirming the plan.
The next month I noticed my bill was still the same. I called 02, who are my provider, and they said they had not heard from the Cuntphone Cockhouse and ‘maybe it was a hoax call’. I called the Carphone Warehouse (just those two words make me want to stab myself in the eye) and after trying to pass me back to O2 again, they eventually checked my records and saw the call had taken place. They assured me that the information would be passed to 02 ‘over the weekend’ and that my cheque had ‘already been issued’.
I left it a week and called 02 again. I am now in the process of moving house, so very stressed anyway. They had heard nothing from the carphone warehouse. They offered to change the plan for me direct, but then I wouldn’t get the cheque, so tried carphone warehouse again. After someone trying to pass me back to O2 once again, they finally called up my notes. This person said there had been ‘a connection error’ and neither the upgrade (nor the cheque- no shit) had been issued. To add to this shitstorm of uselessness, I had to go to a Carphone Cunthouse store to sort out the problem! When I asked why I had not been told that the previous week, he said ‘if you’d called me, I would have told you that.’ Apparently my whole account was set up wrong and needed to be reissued. By this time, two months have passed and I’m losing money on my bill (as I was texting as if my plan was ‘unlimited’.) When I said I would just go back to 02 and get their upgrade, the guy said ‘you cant do that because we own the phone’.
It gets better. On Monday I trundled down to the Carphone Twatshop and the shop was closed with a sign stuck in the window saying ‘back shortly’. I stood there for ten minutes in the cold for the guy to come out and say very rudely ‘we’re closed.’ When I said I’d been standing there 10 minutes he said ‘I’ve only been gone for 1 minute’. Must have been a long one minute because in that time another customer had driven up, stood chatting to me for five minutes, tried to call the number on the front of the shop, then given up and gone again.
After this I sent off an email and today the Princess of Carphone Cuntheads emailed back to say ‘you still have to go in the store, and your cheque is for £60.’ She barely addressed ANY of my problems.
Hilariously, I then went back to the shop where I got told (by quite a nice man, oddly) the offer I got was ' a retention offer which WAS ONLY AVAILABLE VIA PHONE! I know, it’s funny, isn’t it?
When I started crying again they said that basically I should leave the carphone warehouse and get my billing via 02, as they could not do the upgrade for me. They said I now 'own the phone' contrary to the guy on the phone I spoke to who said I'd have to give the phone back if I got my billing through 02! Honestly, there might as well be a Carphone Warehouse magic 8 ball that you go and shake for answers for all the continuity of information you get.
I still have no fucking idea what I’m doing. If I ever got that cheque I think I’d drop down dead. The ironic part is I didn't even ring to ask for an upgrade in the first place: THEY RANG ME!
Having to deal with shit like this genuinely makes me want to commit suicide. The thought of another 50 years of this bullshit makes me just want to go and inject some heroin and be done with it. Then I wouldn’t even have an IPhone, I could just sell it for crack.

Rant: The Post Office

My best friend cannot attend the rescheduled Morrissey Troxy gig as she is abroad. So I needed to post her ticket back to See Tickets for a refund. So I posted it recorded delivery a week ago now. But on the Royal Mail website it’s saying Item blah blah has been accepted at Post Office X on 10/06/09. Nothing about it ever leaving again.
Now, don’t bother yourself looking for an email for customer services on the post office site; there isn’t one. There is just some shit-eating section called ‘ask Sarah’ (wonder how long it took to come up with that name? How much of our cash did they spend on that blue sky session?) and you start off typing in ‘where’s my item?’ and end up typing in ‘I hate you!’ and it sends you round in circles for about 3 hours. After much frustration, I finally found out I needed to call them up.
So I do. And it says ‘please read aloud your 13 digit reference number.’ Uh-oh. Now I have quite a loud speaking voice with a non-distinct accent, so god help any the softly spoken Scottish, or stuttering Somalian. Your phone would probably explode in your hand after three goes.
You can guess what happens as I read out the number. And again. And again. Then finally, it gets it right!
‘Sorry we have no information on our system about your item. Would you like to track another item?’
I’m fully expecting it to cut me off, but then it gives me an option to speak to a human- thanks. You know things are bad when you feel like it’s a lucky break to be told they’ve chucked your letter in the bin. She says she has no information either, but I have to wait until the 29th to log it as missing.
I do not have a penny. That refund was my spends for next week.
The post office is so unbelievably shit inside and out that it’s no surprise the website doesn’t work properly, and the phone system is pure evil. When you actually are forced to go in one of the places, they are dark, dingy, and soul destroying. They look like they last had a refit in 1975. Their branding is so rubbish you actually feel embarrassed for them, and the queue is longer than for the cheapest and best rollercoaster on earth. The whole thing is just about as inspirational as an STD clinic.
Just put the dog down. It’s been dying for decades. It’s for the best. Royal Mail? The Queen and corgis better start sorting this shit out fast, because no one else can be arsed, clearly.
And no I don’t want to buy your fucking credit cards, home insurance or anything else, just post my letters, see they get there on time, then fuck off!

BT= Idiots

Exitainment reserves the right to go a bit Watchdog, but only on occasion. Did you hear Anne Robinson's coming back? Hurrah, she has ended the Campbell tyranny. Aw, I kinda liked him a bit though. And Julia. Not that charisma-void android woman off the One Show though.
Anyway! This month my BT bill came for three times the usual amount; not surprising as it was quarterly, when normally I pay monthly. I called up to be told I had set up the quarterly direct debit! That must have been the other side of my split personality, right? So can I change it back to monthly, which I have been paying happily for the past year? No.
I can however pay the quarterly amount back in three lumps. But if I change the direct debit now 'people will get confused and it will be a whole lot of hassle'. When I got a bit angry, he said 'I'm working with you, can you work with me?' No because I've worked all fucking day and I just want life to run as it was before someone pressed the idiot button at BT towers! What does BT stand for anyway, Bastard Twats?
So now I have to wait until the 17th august to reinstate my monthly direct debit, for no particular reason I can ascertain (except he couldn't be fucked).
Conclusion: BT are wankers. Oh and their call-back system is nice in theory, but if your battery goes, don't expect them to ring you back a couple of minutes later, because they DON'T.
And no I DON'T want to take your customer survey, here's my thoughts, though, you can have them for free!
And relax.