Apologies for the radio silence. Work has been hitting me roughly about the head the past couple of weeks. I’ve been down, but not out for the count.
Do not adjust your set, normal service will resume shortly…
Monday, October 23, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Just and the mysterious case of the missing cheap tickets
Times like these, you need Scooby-Doo and the gang to turn up in the Mystery Mobile. I’ve been trying, (that’s trying, I haven’t succeeded in any way shape or form.) to buy some bargain train tickets to go back up north. Virgin trains advertise these cheap tickets all the time. They send promotional emails to me about them and there are posters all over the place proclaiming how great these deals supposedly are. However, when you actually try to buy any of these fabled bargain tickets, they have always mysteriously disappeared…
Tried to buy the tickets earlier today but ended up thoroughly frustrated by the whole booking system and gave up in despair, and with a serious headache. First of all – it took me about 30 minutes to navigate the booking website. I tried 3 times to get the cheaper tickets by doing endless searches for travelling at increasingly ridiculous times of the day, but no joy. So, I finally decided to buy the more expensive ones, only for the site to crash.
I then called Virgin direct. Of course, I then had to go through the mindfuck that is the voice-recognition system. They’ve obviously improved this over the years and the voice no longer sounds like a female version of HAL, but now she’s almost too friendly. Kind of creepy, really. She’s very softly spoken: ‘…you can interrupt me at any time, for example, please say ‘yes’. Pause whilst I say ‘yes’ clearly into the phone. Softly spoken response: ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Please press star now to go back to the beginning [evil robotic laughter just faintly heard in the background]’. After a while I managed to communicate my travel requirements to this tape recording of a woman’s voice, and miraculously, it quoted me a really good price, then told me it would put me through to an ‘agent’ who would take the booking. Whilst I waited to be put through to the real, live agent, I merrily pulled my debit card from my wallet, all ready to quote the number and almost seeing a small light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel.
Then I got put through to someone clearly working in a call centre in Delhi to finalise the booking. She quoted me double the original price. So I said, calmly, very calmly, that I had just been quoted a much lower amount. She then tells me that those tickets are no longer available. I then calmly (again), tried to ask why I would have been offered these tickets, only for her to tell me there were none. She told me that there were no bargain tickets for those journeys. I got a little less calm at this point. Apparently, ‘maintenance work’ is being carried out on the track and they don’t issue bargain tickets when maintenance work is being carried out. I simply don’t understand. The whole thing is just one big swizz.
I am still seething. I did communicate my feelings about this to the agent, but she seemed unmoved. I hung up.
Aaaarrrrggghhh.
Tried to buy the tickets earlier today but ended up thoroughly frustrated by the whole booking system and gave up in despair, and with a serious headache. First of all – it took me about 30 minutes to navigate the booking website. I tried 3 times to get the cheaper tickets by doing endless searches for travelling at increasingly ridiculous times of the day, but no joy. So, I finally decided to buy the more expensive ones, only for the site to crash.
I then called Virgin direct. Of course, I then had to go through the mindfuck that is the voice-recognition system. They’ve obviously improved this over the years and the voice no longer sounds like a female version of HAL, but now she’s almost too friendly. Kind of creepy, really. She’s very softly spoken: ‘…you can interrupt me at any time, for example, please say ‘yes’. Pause whilst I say ‘yes’ clearly into the phone. Softly spoken response: ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Please press star now to go back to the beginning [evil robotic laughter just faintly heard in the background]’. After a while I managed to communicate my travel requirements to this tape recording of a woman’s voice, and miraculously, it quoted me a really good price, then told me it would put me through to an ‘agent’ who would take the booking. Whilst I waited to be put through to the real, live agent, I merrily pulled my debit card from my wallet, all ready to quote the number and almost seeing a small light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel.
Then I got put through to someone clearly working in a call centre in Delhi to finalise the booking. She quoted me double the original price. So I said, calmly, very calmly, that I had just been quoted a much lower amount. She then tells me that those tickets are no longer available. I then calmly (again), tried to ask why I would have been offered these tickets, only for her to tell me there were none. She told me that there were no bargain tickets for those journeys. I got a little less calm at this point. Apparently, ‘maintenance work’ is being carried out on the track and they don’t issue bargain tickets when maintenance work is being carried out. I simply don’t understand. The whole thing is just one big swizz.
I am still seething. I did communicate my feelings about this to the agent, but she seemed unmoved. I hung up.
Aaaarrrrggghhh.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The shame...
So, I got paid, woo-hoo, yadda, yadda, big anti-climax as per usual. However, it does mean I can afford things again, such as the odd evening out…
Went out on Saturday night for Sam’s leaving do. We went to Salvador & Amanda, which is one of those bars which has an inflated sense of self. You know, they make a big show of having a tough door policy, but then let you in anyway; all the front of house staff were wandering around with clipboards and walkie-talkies, totally drunk with power. As Naomi and I were headed to the bar, we were stopped by yet another member of staff, waving her clipboard frantically: ‘Just checking you girls know where you’re going…’ Yeah, thanks, we’re TRYING to get to the BAR. Jeez. Anyway, that hurdle over, ordered drinks and then our jaws simultaneously hit the floor when handed the bill. I had planned to stick to vodka all evening, thus reducing my chances of suffering with a hangover the next day. However, to continue buying vodka in this bar, I would have had to re-finance my loan. So we switched to wine. Looking back, I can see now that this was not necessarily a good idea, even though it seemed so at the time.
The evening went well, so well that we didn’t leave until our only option for travel home was the night bus. We had to get 2 night buses in fact. This was ok, as I wasn’t that drunk, I figured, and so we ventured forth and started our epic journey home. Got the first night bus at Westminster – so far, so stuffed with mad drunken people and the fragrant aroma of many a kebab. We got off at London Bridge, to get the next bus. We had to wait here for a VERY long time. We were just about to crack and try to hail a cab (though hailing a cab at this time of night, to go south of the river is a bit like trying to find the holy grail), when the 47 swung into view. Once safely aboard, everything should have been fine. However, we have spoken here, many times, of my lack of, shall we say, outer poise. To be blunt, I am an extremely clumsy person. I average about 1 slapstick comedy moment a day, tripping up over thin air/walking into door frames and so on and so forth.
To cut a long story short, I fell over on the night bus. Oh, the shame of it all. I was going for a seat, tripped up over someone’s feet, I was holding onto the pole, but just ended up sliding down it and then hitting the deck. It was really quite spectacular. I just keep thinking of how everyone must have been able to see my legs, sticking out in the aisle. They must have all thought I was mashed. I did consider standing up and saying ‘I’m not actually that drunk, everyone, just really clumsy’, but thought better of it.
Naomi pretended she didn’t know me.
Am covered in bruises.
Went out on Saturday night for Sam’s leaving do. We went to Salvador & Amanda, which is one of those bars which has an inflated sense of self. You know, they make a big show of having a tough door policy, but then let you in anyway; all the front of house staff were wandering around with clipboards and walkie-talkies, totally drunk with power. As Naomi and I were headed to the bar, we were stopped by yet another member of staff, waving her clipboard frantically: ‘Just checking you girls know where you’re going…’ Yeah, thanks, we’re TRYING to get to the BAR. Jeez. Anyway, that hurdle over, ordered drinks and then our jaws simultaneously hit the floor when handed the bill. I had planned to stick to vodka all evening, thus reducing my chances of suffering with a hangover the next day. However, to continue buying vodka in this bar, I would have had to re-finance my loan. So we switched to wine. Looking back, I can see now that this was not necessarily a good idea, even though it seemed so at the time.
The evening went well, so well that we didn’t leave until our only option for travel home was the night bus. We had to get 2 night buses in fact. This was ok, as I wasn’t that drunk, I figured, and so we ventured forth and started our epic journey home. Got the first night bus at Westminster – so far, so stuffed with mad drunken people and the fragrant aroma of many a kebab. We got off at London Bridge, to get the next bus. We had to wait here for a VERY long time. We were just about to crack and try to hail a cab (though hailing a cab at this time of night, to go south of the river is a bit like trying to find the holy grail), when the 47 swung into view. Once safely aboard, everything should have been fine. However, we have spoken here, many times, of my lack of, shall we say, outer poise. To be blunt, I am an extremely clumsy person. I average about 1 slapstick comedy moment a day, tripping up over thin air/walking into door frames and so on and so forth.
To cut a long story short, I fell over on the night bus. Oh, the shame of it all. I was going for a seat, tripped up over someone’s feet, I was holding onto the pole, but just ended up sliding down it and then hitting the deck. It was really quite spectacular. I just keep thinking of how everyone must have been able to see my legs, sticking out in the aisle. They must have all thought I was mashed. I did consider standing up and saying ‘I’m not actually that drunk, everyone, just really clumsy’, but thought better of it.
Naomi pretended she didn’t know me.
Am covered in bruises.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)