Thursday, November 10, 2005

utter, utter feeling of hopelessness and despondency

Having worked in a call centre for over 3 years, I fully appreciate that the customer service advisors whom work in these centres don't exactly have the run of the green. I remember that distinct and utter, utter feeling of hopelessness and despondency that one has to endure, endless call after call of idiotic frustrated moody folks, who needlessly take out their rage and unhappiness at life on you- and now two years on from leaving the hell hole known as Abbey national general insurance services Ltd I found myself on the other side of the counter.

Nothing, and I truly mean nothing can give you a headache and tight chest than the lengthy pedantic, churlish and the down right infuriating experience of speaking to a call centre. Now, I am not an unreasonable man, however Halifax Bank have really got me seething today.

I discovered today that once again I have cracked my bank card, so I embarked upon the usually simple procedure of re-ordering a new one via the other wise relatively helpful Halifax Customer Service Centre. You see, I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to re-ordering new bank cards and canceling direct debits. I do these on a embarrassingly far too frequent basis. My last card was sent to me in May, and was issue number 22 so the ordering of the last one was still fresh in my mind.

Anyway, I was told on the phone that they would send my card out to my local sodding Harrogate, where II haven't lived for 9 years! Hmmmm, this didn’t sound right to me. Last May when I eventually changed my address at the bank (some 3 months after moving) I was told as a precautionary measure they would send any new card etc to my local branch nearest to my work, in Liverpool! This seemed a good idea, as on a far too frequent basis the front door to our flats is left open for any light fingered hoodlum to make haste with my details.

When I was in the branch adjusting these details I suggested that I could change my local branch as they still had it noted in H'gate, but they reliably informed me they wouldn't need to and they will duly arrange for the pick up here Liverpool. I left the branch that day feeling unusually satisfied with the service I had been provided with.

So I really shouldn't have been so incensed when the shmuck I was speaking to today advised me that I was wrong and that all correspondence has been instructed to be sent to H'gate. Quite reasonably, I suggested that they just send it to my home address, but I was once again shot down by the smug Scottish dick head, whose condescending response was to retort to me that "I would have to do that at the branch"

So I can't get my card sent to my flat or my local branch. What they are going to do is send an email (oh please) to the Harrogate Branch and ask them to forward it to the Bootle branch, who in turn will have to contact me to let me know that it has arrived, I then need to ensure that I can infact leave this pit-of-despair office to retrieve it, only ensuring that I can take a 2 hour lunch as the queues in this branch resemble Alton towers on a 1/2 price Chav weekend bank holiday special.

So it looks like I'm screwed.

If, by chance my poor writing stylee has not manged to convey the anger I feel right now; then try to picture Steve Martin's character -Neil Page in 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles' when he returns to the rent-a-car office after being left in the middle of F@*%ing nowhere, with keys to a car that isn't F@*%ing there and you’re half way there.

1 comment:

McParty said...

Wow... I've never seen a guy get picked up by his testicles before!