London calling - The future's not being with Orange
Joe Fountain
There's been very little going on in my life that doesn't involve a passport and the packing of a rucksack recently, so apart from a massive guilty conscience about my carbon footprint and a sense of panic that comes when one feels like there is too much to do in too little time there's been very little going on in my life at the moment. Well, there has, but it's mostly personal, and much as I like to share some things with you folk, there are certain parts that are meant to be private and shall remain so.
Throughout all these comings and goings, there has, in fact, been one drama unfolding, and seeing as I have so little to write about, I might as well bore you with it. It involves my mobile phone, and Orange - the company to whom I have been paying hefty bills to over the last five years and with whom I regularly have massive arguments over the phone - mainly because I've had enough of pressing buttons to speak to someone and never actually managing to. The last time I tried - to complain about the battery on my current phone, and to ask for a bill between two particular dates that would save me hours with a calculator - I ended up having yet another row with some nincompoop who insisted on calling me by my first name and treats me like I was his best friend. Sorry, but I'm a bit old-fashioned like that.
Anyway - I have to give you the abbreviated version otherwise this could fill a whole newspaper - seeing as arguing over the phone wasn't getting me anywhere, I decided to put all in an e-mail, which I sent off, the colour of my skin bordering on the purple. The general gist of it was mildly threatening and only slightly abusive, but it put the point through. A couple of days later I got a reply saying that somebody would call me back. Apparently, an attempt was made while I was in Madrid, but seeing as my phone was off (because of the dead battery that I have been wanting to complain about) they weren't able to get through.
And then, last Sunday, at about 4 p.m., as I was picking someone up at the Westin in Paceville, the phone rang, and - lo and behold - it was the Customer Care department at Orange, calling to discuss my complaint. On a Sunday! Can you believe it? You can imagine my response to the poor young man who called to see what was wrong.
Since then, I've had two calls from different people in different departments at Orange calling to just check up on my account, and make sure that I'm a happy customer. I'm having offers thrown at me left, right and centre, but to be honest, I'm not falling for it. I think I'm going to stick to the crappy little basic phone that I bought to substitute the fancy one with the bad battery, and once my contract is over come December I'll be taking my money somewhere else.
So much for the future being bright with Orange!
Throughout all these comings and goings, there has, in fact, been one drama unfolding, and seeing as I have so little to write about, I might as well bore you with it. It involves my mobile phone, and Orange - the company to whom I have been paying hefty bills to over the last five years and with whom I regularly have massive arguments over the phone - mainly because I've had enough of pressing buttons to speak to someone and never actually managing to. The last time I tried - to complain about the battery on my current phone, and to ask for a bill between two particular dates that would save me hours with a calculator - I ended up having yet another row with some nincompoop who insisted on calling me by my first name and treats me like I was his best friend. Sorry, but I'm a bit old-fashioned like that.
Anyway - I have to give you the abbreviated version otherwise this could fill a whole newspaper - seeing as arguing over the phone wasn't getting me anywhere, I decided to put all in an e-mail, which I sent off, the colour of my skin bordering on the purple. The general gist of it was mildly threatening and only slightly abusive, but it put the point through. A couple of days later I got a reply saying that somebody would call me back. Apparently, an attempt was made while I was in Madrid, but seeing as my phone was off (because of the dead battery that I have been wanting to complain about) they weren't able to get through.
And then, last Sunday, at about 4 p.m., as I was picking someone up at the Westin in Paceville, the phone rang, and - lo and behold - it was the Customer Care department at Orange, calling to discuss my complaint. On a Sunday! Can you believe it? You can imagine my response to the poor young man who called to see what was wrong.
Since then, I've had two calls from different people in different departments at Orange calling to just check up on my account, and make sure that I'm a happy customer. I'm having offers thrown at me left, right and centre, but to be honest, I'm not falling for it. I think I'm going to stick to the crappy little basic phone that I bought to substitute the fancy one with the bad battery, and once my contract is over come December I'll be taking my money somewhere else.
So much for the future being bright with Orange!