Repetition

Sometimes it’s almost like I’ve become Multilingual, and particularly while talking to numbnut marmosets from the bank that likes to have circular conversations. I swear that at one point I must have been speaking fluent Serbo-Croat, because nothing I was saying was sinking in at all.

The highpoint of the entire conversation went as follows (and sorry for the multitude of blockquote boxes in the last couple of days – it just happens like that sometimes)

OK, I want you to repeat these things after me – just to prove they’re getting received
*doubtful* “OK…..“
The problem is not with my Internet Banking login
“The problem is not with your Internet Banking login“
The problem is with my business account
“The problem is with your business account“
The problem is within your system – one section says my account is fine, the other one doesn’t.
“The problem is within our system – one section says the account is fine, the other doesn’t.“
Close enough. Now, has that sunk in?
“Well, sir, like I was saying, we need you to log in to your internet banking so that we can see what error it comes up with. After that I’ll have to refer you back to the business managers, who’ll order you a new card“

*sob*

Training course

Following on from yesterday’s sweary, Daisy commented about her own recent Lyle-esque rant…

Me: Hometown, 1234–
Her: Hello Daisy, I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve won the competition for a–
Me: Shut. Up. First of all, how DARE you ring my home and address me by my first name.
Two – I do NOT enter competitions, therefore you have lied to me. Three – It is ten past seven, how DARE you ring in the middle of the Archers. Do NOT ring this number again or I will take legal action.
*slams phone down*

Current status: 80% shame & guilt, 20% sneaking admiration that I had the cojones to do it.
I need more lessons please.

Now, while I have to admit that this is pretty good for a novice, there are much better ways of dealing with random phone calls. And this one’s not even likely to be sweary…

Hello [insert standard greeting here]
“Ah yes, I’m pleased to tell you you’ve won the competition for…..“
You know, you’re completely right, I have won a prize. You’ve managed to call an ex-directory number, which has also been registered with the Telephone Preference Service for the last six months.
“Oh. Um. Whoops“
Yes, whoops indeed. This means that your company is now liable for a £10,000 fine, and I’d also like to get the name and address of the company that sold you the mailing list containing my number. May I speak to your supervisor please?

No need for swearing, yet you’ve just ruined a person’s day completely. My work here is done.

Foregone conclusion

I love the way the headline for this story seems to predict the outcome. The inquiry into the now infamous “torture” photos is pretty certain to conclude that they’re fakes. Of course, this is similar to the Hutton Whitewash Report‘s conclusion that “the Government wasn’t at fault”.

Of course these photos are going to be denounced as fakes. No government inquiry into them is going to say “Oh shit, actually, they’re genuine” and thus knacker the government’s case for war, for continued military presence, or for reasons why these Iraqis are still in confinement now that the war is supposedly over.

As it is, I believe that some of the photos have been faked, but I don’t believe all of them have been. And that’s the crux of it all – if one can be proven to be faked, then it casts doubt on all the others. If one can be proven to be authentic, then it adds “reliability” to all the others. The government is hoping for the former option, and the Mirror is praying for the latter. The absolute cynic in me wonders if the faked ones haven’t been produced purely with this in mind – that the army have perhaps staged a couple that they can then say “this is the person in the photos, and the one who took/staged them” and thus discredit all the others…

RB-motherfucking-S

Readers from a year ago may just recall my problems with the bank that can’t find it’s arse with both hands and a flashlight. For my business account, I do most of the stuff via Internet Banking. This system is shonky as shite, but still rather better than, say, wandering into the branch all the time. Although not by much – I can only use it from one PC, which sort of destroys the “convenience” of banking via the Internet. Incredible – the bank that hopes to enter the 20th century. Sometime around 2056 at this rate.

I tried logging into the account this morning, only to receive an error saying that the business account wasn’t accessible via the internet. Which, to be honest, comes under the “well that’s news to me” banner. So I call the Helldesk.

Oh, the branch has put some kind of stop, or tag, or something, on the account to stop it being accessed online.
Why?
I don’t know, I don’t have those records here.
That’s useful. So what’s happened to the account, so I can at least talk to the branch and look like I know what I’m talking about. That way, at least one of us will.
Well, they’ve put some kind of stop, or marker, or something on the account. I don’t know what, exactly, I’ve never seen something like this before.
Thanks for your help

Crying now seems like a pretty good option. Come 9.15 I’m on the phone to the branch, expecting to speak to the useless cunt business manager for my account. Bear in mind, this is the person who is genetically incapable of answering emails, or writing letters. Or, in fact, of communicating with her customers at all.

Hello, can I speak to xxxxx please?
Oh, she doesn’t work here any more. Can I ask what it’s about?
Oh, that’s nice. Supposedly she’s my business manager. Good to know she’s gone though. Who’s my replacement business manager?
Oh, I don’t know. Can I help with anything?
Yeah, I’d like to know why my account is apparently blocked from being accessed via internet banking.
*time passes, with details of account etc.*
Um, according to our system it’s fine. Why did Internet Banking say it couldn’t be accessed?
Their very technical (Note to self : calm the sarcasm) explanation was that it was a marker, or stop, or something.
No, there’s nothing like that on the account.
Well, could you look into it, and find out what the chuff is going on then?. Thanks.

And now, in the spirit of eternal optimism, I’m waiting for them to call me back. Will I ever learn?

NT-motherfucking-L

Dateline : Today. Location : Oldham Shopping Centre.

“Hello Sir, can I interest you in NTL?“
*walking past* No, thanks.
*snide*”Ah well, you’ll never know what a great deal you’ve just walked away from“
*walking back*Care to repeat that?
*not so sure now* “Um, you’ll never know what a great deal you’ve just missed“
Oh, wouldn’t I? What’re you offering? Cheap calls? Whoopee doo. After my last experience with NT-fucking-L, I wouldn’t touch them with someone else’s shitty stick. The customer service sucks, the charges aren’t that cheap, the internet access is balls, NTL can’t bill correctly even with Oftel watching over them, and, frankly, their entire ‘service’ sucks the balls off dead donkeys. I’m on ADSL – can you sell me a phone service from NTL that won’t fuck that up completely?
“um. No.“
Will you refund me for what I’ve already paid on ADSL?
“No“
Do I live in an area where NTLs cable already runs, and is known to work?
“I don’t know“
No, you bloody don’t, do you? I do – they can’t do cable modems in my area, so it’s dial-up or sod all. It’s still old C&W shite, which NTL can’t use all it’s stuff on. So next time before being such a cockhead, why not try either appreciating that someone’s said “no thanks” instead of “fuck off”, don’t be snide, and get your head out of your arse.

I feel SO much better after that…

BM5

Bloody hell, the fifth one already. Yes, while I remember, the 5th Manchester Blogmeet will be happening tomorrow. Any time after 8pm, in Font (just round the corner from Oxford Road station).

It’s obviously the season for meets – as well as one last Saturday in London, there’s another one tonight. And I’m down in the wilds of Berkshire over the weekend at another smaller do – pics will probably be around on Monday of that one, and on Friday of the Manchester BM5. Be afraid…

PhotoBox

At the moment, I’m applying for an “on-the-side” job doing photographs for a rebuilding project. I’ve never done anything like it before, so it’s kind of on a wing and a prayer. I won’t blither on too much about the job itself, as I suspect that the likelihood of getting it is rather less than, say, finding myself on a flight tonight to Outer Mongolia in pursuit of a prehistoric yurt.

Anyway, last night I was burbling round what I needed to put together for this application, and I realised that a small porfolio of stuff I’ve done would be useful. So I’ve assembled 15 shots that I’m particularly proud of, or pleased with, and burned them onto a CD along with a little set of web pages to display the different images etc., all done in one page using PHP. (Yes, I’m that geeky too – sad but true)

Now, I’m slow on the uptake, and it took ’til 1am before I thought “Oh, bollocks. What if they haven’t got a PC? Best do some proper prints too”. Uploaded them to Photobox.co.uk by about 1.30am. And when I got into work this morning, there was a set of emails telling me that not only had the order been received, it had also been processed and despatched. Now that’s what I call efficient.