An oxymoron that occupies a position of shame with Civil Servant, Help Line and Honest Politician. It’s the kind of marketing couplet that pisses you off for almost ever, and then just carries on giving.
I was forced to email London Midland* with a simple question regarding bike storage at one of their stations. This after failing to be connected to anyway who really understood what a train station might be via a life bleeding call centre, and being sort of amused by the website which states:
Cycle Storage: Yes
Cycle Facilities: No
The auto reply went something like “We will try and get back to you within 10 days but our PASSENGERS CHARTER gives us 20 days to do so”
20 fucking days. To answer 1 bloody question? Either sort out your useless web site or – and I know it’s a bit of a stretch – try providing some customer service. The customer is king eh? More like the customer is a cash cow that is forced to slum it on our shitty service so why the fuck should we invest in any kind of service that would make their life easier?
Not quite as punchy I agree, but far more sodding accurate.
Oh and while I am at it, I bloody hate “do not reply to this email” auto responses. It’s like being kicked in the wedding veg and then told “nah, nah you can’t hit me back”
CLIC-24 tomorrow. Donations still welcome. I am in that bowel loosening nervous state between ‘Blither’** and ‘Wibble’. The forecast looks considerably better but with my inability to separate “Sunshine” and “Cold beer, my already random lines choices may tend to even greater perambulation out on the course. Assuming I ever get that far.
* confused geographical branding in the same box of numptiness containing “London Luton”
** The Team Metrosexual persuasively argues that if one can be labelled a blithering idiot, then surely the root verb must be “to blither”.