Stockport 0 New Delhi 4

I am writing to you this morning from the comfort of a Levenshulme dining room- a rare luxury after a month of computer-related trauma which started one late night at the end of February when the screen turned ominously bright blue and the mouse stopped clicking.  After turning the switch off and on at the wall seven times had failed to revive the ancient, whirring Packard Bell machinery beyond this apparent state of catatonia, I put through a call to PC World- and so we found ourselves plunged, for the best part of three weeks, into a Kafkaesque parallel universe of impenetrable double-talk where no pronouncement was so straightforward that it could not be directly contradicted five minutes later, and quite often by the very same faceless functionary. The first call set the tone:

'I'm sorry Sir, but we don't recognise that address at all'

'But we definitely bought the computer from you- and I'm looking at the warranty right now with your details on it'

'Ah yes- we do recognise the address.  But the warranty is in a different name'

'Oh- that will be my wife's maiden name.  It was a few years ago we bought the computer, you see'.

'We have a warranty in that name- but it has expired'

'But I've got your warranty in front of me- it still has three months to run!'

'I'm sorry- my screen tells me it has expired.  You'll have to call our number again, press the star key twice, select options two, four, then five, and ask to speak to membership services'.

Needless to say, membership services operates nine-to-five only, so a day of rising, seething resentment ticked by before a second call could be made, and our existence could be verified.  Several more weeks of phone calls and visits to the Stockport megastore followed, during which we were advised, in something like this order, although the details are a little hazy now:

'- it is a simple software problem that would be fixed in a day...a very complicated hardware problem that could take a week, at least...the rescue disc is being put in this afternoon...the rescue disc has been lost in transit from Stretford and a new one has been sent for...all the data has been irretrievably lost...some of the data has been found but it would cost us £100 to see it...the computer will be ready for collection tomorrow... the computer is being taken to pieces, call again in the morning...the computer is definitely ready now, you can come in and get it...no, really, it is, honest.'

My faith in human nature was restored, once the machine was eventually back in place, by one Umar Pratesh, whose gentle, infinitely patient ministrations from his BT Helpdesk somewhere on the faraway Indian subcontinent led me through the hazardous process of not only opening up the big scary Broadband router box that had been staring accusingly at me from the corner of the room since it arrived mysteriously in the post six months ago, but actually unwrapping the constituent parts and wiring them all together into various household sockets.  This was no mean feat, given that (and, come to think of it, this may have been part of the problem with PC World) I go completely, irretrievably to pieces when asked by a person of professional competence to perform any vaguely technical task.  Despite my increasingly pathetic fumblings with the various coloured wires and fiddly pieces of plastic, Umar remained absolutely serene at all times.  Well, nearly at all times:

'Now Jonathan- I'm going to ask you to do something for me.  But I don't want you to do it straight away.  Do you understand?'

'Yes Umar, what is it?'

'I want you to go across to the phone socket, unplug it from the wall, and put in the new blue one instead- the one out of the box, remember?'

'OK Umar- I'm just going over, and pulling it out now-'

'JONATHAN- STOP RIGHT THERE- STOP RIGHT THERE I BEG YOU!'

'Whatever is the matter Umar?'

'Jonathan- you are talking to me on your landline.  If you unplug your phone socket from the wall, then-'

'Ah yes Umar- of course.  How silly of me...'

Really, the man deserves some kind of award- I work in customer service and can state with absolute certainty that if I ever got myself on the telephone I would have myself banging my head against the desk in two minutes flat, and after five, would have told myself in no uncertain terms to bugger off, and have gotten myself the sack.

Speaking of which, if I don't get off this here computer now, get on my bike, and get off to an unsalubrious trading estate somewhere behind Manchester's Deansgate station, I may find my post downsized and my duties taken over by some cheap, courteous chap with a private education, several degrees to his name, and a connoisseur's appreciation of the current range of industrial flanges over in New Delhi.  You know what?  I don't think I could have any complaints, do you?

Comments

[Skipsey]

You really shouldn't put yourself through it. I only cost a bowl of pasta and a cup of tea..

[abby]

Hurray for Umar! A rare annd fine man. I think you should find out where he lives and send him a packet of Jammie Dodgers and maybe some Coop 99 tea.

[Ben]

A pleasurable and helpful call centre conversation recorded for posterity on an internet weblog? Surely some mistake? This has to be a first!

Sadly, blogged complaints about levels of customer service at PC World are not exactly a novelty...

Good to have you back among us!

[looby]

Yes, I was wondering where you were. Hurrah for Umar. He's probably laughing about you in Punjabi though.

[jonathan]

I certainly wouldn't blame Umar for laughing at me in any language known to man. And I have considered shipping some iconic British groceries across the Indian Ocean as a token of my undying gratitude- before deciding against it on account of Skipsey's rates being so much more competitive (and he does visits, as well). Still, it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

Coming soon (well, maybe, and only if the computer stays working for long enough...) a review of my recent enforced whistle-stop tour of the internet cafes of south Manchester. I bet you can all hardly wait..

[Will]

God bless Umar.

Actually, if you worked in customer services and wanted to get rid of someone, getting them to unplug their phone would be an immensely cunning way of getting rid of them.

[jonathan]

Hello and welcome Will... yes, that is one trick of the trade I've yet to try out...

[honey]

working in customer services can be wonderful, the story of the old lady who was trying to get her new computer to work and my husband patiently over the phone explaining she had to move the mouse up the screen to the little... ah he soon figured out she was literally moving the mouse up and down the monitor..