Once upon a time, it was perfectly possible to ask British Telecom to do something in return for money. You would ring an 0800 number and someone in India would politely accept the premise that if you paid them, say, £70, they would send an engineer to your home to carry out repairs.
This used to be true of Sky TV as well, before they decided that there was virtually nothing about their £50 a month service they would fix other than by giving you instructions down the phone to make you fix it yourself. ‘But the box has blown up into a million pieces!’ ‘Yes, madam, and we are going to talk you through reassembling it using the simple principles of thermonuclear fusion.’
But that’s another story. Let us stick to the nightmare in question, which was what happened when I rang BT to ask them to move my broadband router. You see, with the Home Hub at the back of the house, the signal doesn’t quite reach the front room, so I rang the number for broadband help:
‘Welcome to BT. If you are calling about sending a monkey to the moon, please press 1. If you are inquiring about chiropody services, press 2. If you want to arrange an appointment to see a clairvoyant, press 3.’ It was that irrelevant. There was nothing even vaguely close to booking a visit from an engineer. And so I was condemned to the always disastrous ‘For all other inquiries, press 4’:
‘Thank you for calling BT. Calls are recorded in the hope that if we make you angry enough you will start swearing and then we can blame you for everything.
‘In order to help us deal with your inquiry, please enter the number of bones in a giraffe’s neck, followed by the hash key.
‘Now, using the keypad on your telephone, please play the opening bars of Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto.
‘Thank you. You are now in a queue. In order for us to queue you properly, please select from the following options. Press 1 to be made to listen to crap music, 2 to have the phone line suddenly go silent so you are not sure if you are still connected, 3 for a sweet, northern lass to claim she doesn’t know anything about anything…
‘Hello, you’re through to Hayley…’
‘Oh thank god, I was about to burst into tears.’
‘Can I take your account number, please?’
‘But I just spent ages keying that in. Look, I just want to move my broadband router…’
‘I’m going to transfer you to our technical department…’
‘Oh no, please don’t…’
Mobile phone clamped to my ear, I then walked from my house to the station, bought a ticket and got on a train, before someone else came on the line:
‘Hello, ma’am…’
My heart soared. It was India. Maybe now I was through to the developing world I would get sorted.
‘Please, I just need to move my broadband router. Can I book an engineer?’
‘Hello, ma’am, and how are you today? And may I ask you what is the problem with your broadband service that I may help you with today please, ma’am.’
‘No problem, it’s very nice. I just want to move the router.’
‘And so, ma’am, may I please ask what is wrong with the connection?’
‘Nothing. I just want the router in the middle of the house for even coverage.’
‘Ma’am, I will surely help you with that. I just have to ask you some questions so that we may proceed with booking an engineer.’
‘Great.’
‘So, can you please tell me ma’am, what is wrong with your connection?’
‘Nothing. Honestly. I just want to move the router.’
‘Very good, ma’am. I will surely help you with that. So, have you got a phone connection?’
‘YES!’
‘Ma’am please, I am trying to help you. But I need to ask you some questions. What is wrong with your broadband?’
‘Listen to me, I can’t say this in many more ways. I …want …to …move…’
‘Yes, ma’am, I understand that, thank you. But I need to establish what is wrong.’
‘Listen, I’m offering to pay you money. What is it for an engineer’s visit now?’
‘I’m afraid it is £99, ma’am.’
‘Fine. Just, for the love of god, book the appointment.’
‘Yes, ma’am, I will surely help you with that.’
‘But you are not surely helping me. You are surely doing bugger all!’
‘Ma’am, I will help you now, ma’am.’
‘Good. Please do so!’
‘I just need you to tell me what is wrong…’
In the end, I had to rekindle my relationship with the builder boyfriend — again. He rewired the router in ten minutes, which was about how long it took BT to get around to warning me that my call was being recorded.
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