* 28 Jan 2010 WHO WAS THERE, BEFORE ME?

* 28 Jan 2010 The First Housemoving Blog

subtitle : WHO WAS THERE, BEFORE ME?

This is not a "greater meaning of life" question. This should be read with the following locational emphasis:
"WHO was THERE? Before me." And not the esoteric, "Who WAS there before me?"

Someone was there before me. Someone lived in my new apartment before me. Don't be surprised - the building, is after all,a seventeenth century coaching barn and stable block, with clock-tower, that has been carved up into four apartments.

I'm not complaining about generations of legal tennants. I'm not complaining (yet) about any ghosts. I'm complaining about the tennant previous to me, who did a runner in the moonlight.

When he left he was connected on the telephone to "bt" (British telecom), and he was connected on the gas to "BritishGas." His broadband is connected, by satellite, to Skye. The elctricity and water are up to the landlord (the local farmer) and are included in the rent.

All I want to do is change the gas,broadband and satellite tv into my name, and to have a phone line installed.
When I move in, I want to know that I'll have heat and hot water (memories of the SofaNest days are still raw wounds, hardly any scabs at all). I want to know that I'll have a phone, an internet connection and satellite tv to watch.


Did you say, "Not difficult." Did you really say that?

Having spent the whole of yesterday afternoon on the phone, and most of this morning, my blood pressure is now meteoric. The casual mention of phone, gas, tv and internet has a nasty little twitch start up in my left eyelid. I expect it won't be long before I develop Tourettes and start shouting out rude words.

And the reason for this?

The reason is that everyone keeps treating me as some interloper who has invaded the mystery tennant's apartment. I can not get anything done, or installed, or transferred, into my name unless:
a) The mystery tennant advises them that he no longer needs their services, or
b) agrees to transfer the agreement into my name, or
c) I phone some ombudsman's organisation for British Gas and get various references and meter passwords,and
d) in the case of bt, I take out an 18 months contract (instead of 12 months) for line rental. (If ever there's a fat con, that's bt.)

So, my move has been delayed by 10 days because the bt and Skye workmen can not come around until the 3rd, which means that the removals van is next free on the 8th Feb.

It has taken a total of 18 phone calls to get this far. Each phone call is accompanied by the same, automated phonecall push-button syncopation that brings me one step nearer to being the dishevelled old woman who pushes a supermarket trolley around and talks to lamposts and bus-shelters.

PV = Phone voice. The disinterested, disembodied voice on the other end of the phone line.
TB = My Thought Bubble. What I am thinking.

PV "You can access your account by going to www. xxyz." Pause.
TB "No thank you, been there, no help. I'll hold."

PV "Press 1 if you have a pre-paid account. Press 2 if you wish to give us a meter reading. Press 3 if you wish to hear more of our delightful muzak."
TB "None of the above, any other options?"

PV "Use the phone keypad to put in your account number"
TB "Thanks, but I don't have an account number. I am trying to get one though, so I'll keep holding. Maybe I'll get lucky, cos I really don't know what else to do."

The slight tic in the left eyelid turns to a definite twitch

TB "I wish they'd play a new song."

PV "If you do not have an account number, please press the star key twice."
TB "And then I shall pluck a blue duck's egg at the start of the new moon, turn it around twice and sing the first verse of Land of Hope and Glory. And then maybe I'll get a real live, person to talk to."

An eternity of the same muzak (WHO chooses the muzak. How are they qualified to choose? Do they really hear muzak or just voices inside their heads? That, in itself would be grist for another whole blog.)

PV "We are currently experiencing high call volumes. Your call IS important to us. Please keep holding and you will be transferred to our first available operator."
TB "Oh! Fie! But do I have any choice? Nope. So I WILL keep holding."

Repeat that at least five times.

Finally having whittled out the impatient callers, the easily-discouraged, the faint-of-heart, and those whose pace-makers needed a service, one gets to talk to a real live person.

WHO chooses the people at the call centres? And are they chosen by most difficult to understand accent?
I can just imagine Call Centre job interviews. Picture it:
Interviewee chats away rapidly, in a thick regional accent, for 5 minutes to the two interviewers.
The two interviewers look at each other. One says to the other,
"Nigel, did you understand a word of that?"
And Nigel beams back, "Not a word, Chauncey, not a single word. I'd say this one gets the job."

And so, that's how far (twitch) we've got with getting a bt line (twitch,twitch)and broadband (twitch, head-toss) and satellite (head-toss, head-toss) and gas connections (twitch, head-toss, squint, squint).

The Ninja-granny is going off to meditate on her navel. (Twitch, head-toss, squint, involuntary cuss word.)

Have a superlovely delicious day my friends xx

Copyright author 2010