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.
Showing posts with label rant blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant blog. Show all posts
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Rant Blog: No TV so why not get sexually harrassed playing scrabble?
Wednesday night is clearly the death of TV; with no soaps to fill the hole, I am left floundering, twiddling my thumbs. So I turn to downloading some dreadful Placebo b-sides (I love you, Brian) and playing Facebook Scrabble.
If you're a girl; just don't play a man. Every. single. time. Where you from? How old are you? What you doing tonight? How does Scrabble and sex go together? It DOESN'T!!!
I actually vowed not to play men any more, but sometimes those pics move fast and you click in the wrong one, so I give the poor bloke a chance. Big mistake. 99% of the time if I play a woman they won't speak. If it's a man, they always do. They just have to try their luck.
Tonight's guy was holding a baby, seems harmless enough. Silly me.
Do you have a boyfriend? Yes. Then he says he has a partner and a baby. Good, I think, no sex chat here. Then; 'do you live with him/ you look about 18/ are you alone tonight?' He fired so many questions at me! Who asks for that when they play Scrabble? But I feel rude when I turn the chat off and someone is just being friendly and not creepy.
This is a man holding his child in his profile pic. Then I said 'this isn't the site for that' and that was the end of the game.
It's not actually FAIR that women have to put up with that, when just wanting to play a stupid game. There's enough sites out there for that stuff; they aint that hard to find. There's even specialist ones for cheating bastards; so go join one of them, you creepy fucker.
No more men! It shouldn't be this way. I wish men knew just how much low level harrassment women have to put up with daily. Just comments and looks and bloody patronising, sleazy bullshit, and it's not fair, because they don't have to put up with it, we don't encroach on their personal space in this insidious way.
Thanks, I needed to get this off my chest! The silly part is, on Friday when you want to have a drink and could live without the soaps, they force hours of them onto you.
If you're a girl; just don't play a man. Every. single. time. Where you from? How old are you? What you doing tonight? How does Scrabble and sex go together? It DOESN'T!!!
I actually vowed not to play men any more, but sometimes those pics move fast and you click in the wrong one, so I give the poor bloke a chance. Big mistake. 99% of the time if I play a woman they won't speak. If it's a man, they always do. They just have to try their luck.
Tonight's guy was holding a baby, seems harmless enough. Silly me.
Do you have a boyfriend? Yes. Then he says he has a partner and a baby. Good, I think, no sex chat here. Then; 'do you live with him/ you look about 18/ are you alone tonight?' He fired so many questions at me! Who asks for that when they play Scrabble? But I feel rude when I turn the chat off and someone is just being friendly and not creepy.
This is a man holding his child in his profile pic. Then I said 'this isn't the site for that' and that was the end of the game.
It's not actually FAIR that women have to put up with that, when just wanting to play a stupid game. There's enough sites out there for that stuff; they aint that hard to find. There's even specialist ones for cheating bastards; so go join one of them, you creepy fucker.
No more men! It shouldn't be this way. I wish men knew just how much low level harrassment women have to put up with daily. Just comments and looks and bloody patronising, sleazy bullshit, and it's not fair, because they don't have to put up with it, we don't encroach on their personal space in this insidious way.
Thanks, I needed to get this off my chest! The silly part is, on Friday when you want to have a drink and could live without the soaps, they force hours of them onto you.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Equality... maybe in the next world
Was incensed by this 'lighthearted article' in the Daily Hate today by no-one's favourite horse-faced harridan Amanda Platell (I think the usual policy of not attacking people's personal appearance can be waived when discussing someone who makes a living from doing exactly that in the most disgusting way possible).
Amanda has written an article standing up for poor beleaguered men, and adverts taking the mick out of them (ironically whilst posting images of decades worth of sexually-insulting adverts aimed at women). And it's not like sexist adverts against women have stopped, as anyone who saw the recent(ish) BT advert with that plod from My Family on and his girlfriend going 'I lost the folder'- as if even merely glancing at a computer if you're a woman causes the entire hard-drive to spontaneously combust. Very subtle.
And what about that advert where that guy is watching the football and ordering is girlfriend to get his dinner? I don't know what that's for, but it offended me.
Platell goes on; 'As a society, we have become so institutionally sexist against men that it is now accepted practice to treat them as secondclass citizens. ' Oh well, not to worry, in the developing world women are still being stoned to death for not being virgins on their wedding night, so it's all swings and roundabouts, hey? And presumably 'in our society' the pay gap miraculously closed overnight and all the battered women's refuges were closed, and half naked men are appearing on Page 3 of The Sun now, yeah? How's that for a bit of role reversal? Gotta love equality!
She continues; 'On a more serious note, think of the raft of legislation that has been put in place to benefit women, and indeed positively discriminate in favour of them, often at the expense of male interests.' Like what? She doesn't offer a single example! Is she, a working woman, referring to maternity rights? (which incidentally do not apply to childless women- I can't personally think of any benefits I have over my male colleagues- and statistics have shown time and time again that men get paid more). If she is referring to maternity leave, then the implication is clear: get back in the kitchen and raise those babies, and keep your mouth shut, just like in the 'good old days'.
Does it not occur to this thick, humourless excuse for a woman that women have been ridiculed and abused for THOUSANDS of years? So now my boyfriend has to watch an advert where men are made fun of every once in a while. I think he can handle it. I don't think he needs you rushing to his defence, you traitor to your own sex, and a traitor to causes actually worth fighting for.
Even if men were routinely raped, beaten, mocked and paid less than women for the next ten thousand years it still wouldn't scratch the surface of levelling the playing-field. Doesn't she get that? And i'm not saying that I want that to happen, I'm saying that a couple of stupid adverts isn't exactly a big price to pay for a zillion years of supremacy.
I'm not even going to go into the bigoted drivel she spouts after that about any given minority, but her claim to speak for 'most people' is just plain offensive.
(Not) funnily enough, there was also a small story about a woman being sexually assaulted by a migrant, in an area where another woman was also raped. I can't find the link, but a police spokesman said (and I quote)... 'We constantly advise women not to walk alone in that area.' Can you see how insidious that language is? Oh, I see. So it's the victim's fault for being in that area! Silly woman, what was she thinking? Here was I thinking it was a free country, here was I thinking that the police might actually do something to protect women in a dodgy area, not wag their finger and go 'well, we did warn you...'
Equality... you're right, Amanda, we're far from it. And you disgust me.
Amanda has written an article standing up for poor beleaguered men, and adverts taking the mick out of them (ironically whilst posting images of decades worth of sexually-insulting adverts aimed at women). And it's not like sexist adverts against women have stopped, as anyone who saw the recent(ish) BT advert with that plod from My Family on and his girlfriend going 'I lost the folder'- as if even merely glancing at a computer if you're a woman causes the entire hard-drive to spontaneously combust. Very subtle.
And what about that advert where that guy is watching the football and ordering is girlfriend to get his dinner? I don't know what that's for, but it offended me.
Platell goes on; 'As a society, we have become so institutionally sexist against men that it is now accepted practice to treat them as secondclass citizens. ' Oh well, not to worry, in the developing world women are still being stoned to death for not being virgins on their wedding night, so it's all swings and roundabouts, hey? And presumably 'in our society' the pay gap miraculously closed overnight and all the battered women's refuges were closed, and half naked men are appearing on Page 3 of The Sun now, yeah? How's that for a bit of role reversal? Gotta love equality!
She continues; 'On a more serious note, think of the raft of legislation that has been put in place to benefit women, and indeed positively discriminate in favour of them, often at the expense of male interests.' Like what? She doesn't offer a single example! Is she, a working woman, referring to maternity rights? (which incidentally do not apply to childless women- I can't personally think of any benefits I have over my male colleagues- and statistics have shown time and time again that men get paid more). If she is referring to maternity leave, then the implication is clear: get back in the kitchen and raise those babies, and keep your mouth shut, just like in the 'good old days'.
Does it not occur to this thick, humourless excuse for a woman that women have been ridiculed and abused for THOUSANDS of years? So now my boyfriend has to watch an advert where men are made fun of every once in a while. I think he can handle it. I don't think he needs you rushing to his defence, you traitor to your own sex, and a traitor to causes actually worth fighting for.
Even if men were routinely raped, beaten, mocked and paid less than women for the next ten thousand years it still wouldn't scratch the surface of levelling the playing-field. Doesn't she get that? And i'm not saying that I want that to happen, I'm saying that a couple of stupid adverts isn't exactly a big price to pay for a zillion years of supremacy.
I'm not even going to go into the bigoted drivel she spouts after that about any given minority, but her claim to speak for 'most people' is just plain offensive.
(Not) funnily enough, there was also a small story about a woman being sexually assaulted by a migrant, in an area where another woman was also raped. I can't find the link, but a police spokesman said (and I quote)... 'We constantly advise women not to walk alone in that area.' Can you see how insidious that language is? Oh, I see. So it's the victim's fault for being in that area! Silly woman, what was she thinking? Here was I thinking it was a free country, here was I thinking that the police might actually do something to protect women in a dodgy area, not wag their finger and go 'well, we did warn you...'
Equality... you're right, Amanda, we're far from it. And you disgust me.
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