Call us they said. We are here to help you 24/7. And so, I rang their number and waited. Then waited again as a mechanical voice told me, at length, how wonderful their organisation was at protecting my privacy and how I mustn’t abuse the staff.
Hearing another voice, I was about to explain why I had called, but no, this was just another robot telling me I should press one, for nothing I needed to know. Two and three were no more helpful, nor were four or five, and so on to eight, where if I needed any real help, I should hang on and wait. Of course, now I needed to be told once more about their policies of privacy and that I mustn’t abuse the staff; that I was in a queue and would need to wait for approximately half an hour.
In the meantime, I heard how great they were at protecting themselves from accusations of infringing my privacy and, by the way, I mustn’t abuse the staff. This information was repeated on an endless loop interspersed with a loud mechanical noise that I believe was music. After I had endured this for almost an hour, a disembodied electronic voice informed me that they really were too busy to answer my call at all.
Next day, I girded my loins then tried again. After a repeat performance of yesterday’s annoying process, I finally did get to speak to a human. Having been warned about abuse I restrained myself from telling the poor guy what I thought of their organisation and explained my problem. After very politely ascertaining my name, my date of birth, my mother’s maiden name and the name of my first pet, he sadly informed me that he could not help me. I would need to contact another department, so I was put on hold. After I had endured another five minutes of deplorable music, he returned to say that I could not be connected and advised me to call the original number. Where, of course, someone was there to help me 24/7.
Lynne Cairns 