tartan bunker

I ’phoned my local bank in south London and a very nice lady in India answered, telling me she’d fax my details to the branch and get them to call me. I then found the bank manager’s direct phone line, called him, made an appointment and saw him within the hour. Two days later, he rang me, puzzled, wanting to know who I was. I reminded him. Ah, he said, thing is, I’ve just received a fax telling me to contact this number, but no name, no reference. . . ’ This chap is a professional, he’s not responsible for this nonsense but . . . In future, I won’t be using Barclays.

Also, alack and alas, I had cause to ring Thames Water. Two phones ringing, on and off over two days. Gave up, and sent an email. Got a call two days later. ‘Hello,’ said a heavily-accented voice where wordsranintooneanother. ‘ThisisTim’swater.’ 

Do the lunatic accountants who must have thought this’d be cost effective ever have cause to contact their call centres abroad? Have they given thought or care ever to the cost to the customer and society at large through the waste of time and money spent in contact with such centres?

I’ll return anon to the problems at home with those who take calls and go out of their way not to help you. And then before signing off, ask if there’s anything else they can help you with.

Soon, I’ll have to contact BT. Most of us know what that means. I give up. Bring back pigeons.