Saucer
Demon God(ess)
Posts: 967
Girls, Cars & Loud Guitars
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« on: November 12, 2003, 12:36:14 am » |
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What follows is an example of British humour in
a complaint letter sent sent to a British ISP. The
piece suggests two things:
1) Americans and Canadians are not the only ones
who get poor service from their ISP, cable or alarm
companies. (NTL is a cable operator in Britain).
2) The Brits probably write the world's best
letters of complaint.
Dear Cretins,
I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I
signed up for your four-in-one deal for cable TV, cable
modem, telephone, and alarm monitoring. During this
three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of
service which I had not previously considered possible,
as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic
proportions. Please allow me to provide specific
details, so that you can either pursue your
professional prerogative and seek to rectify these
difficulties -- or more likely (I suspect) so that you
can have some entertaining reading material as you
while away the working day smoking, and drinking
vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.
My initial installation was cancelled without warning,
resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on
my arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he
did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening
to your infuriating hold music, and the even more
annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at
your helpful website. HOW? I alleviated the boredom by
playing with my testicles for a few minutes -- an
activity at which you are no doubt both familiar and
highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took
place some two weeks later, although the technician
did forget to bring a number of vital tools -- such
as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my
cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone
calls over four weeks my modem arrived, six weeks after
I had requested, and begun to pay for it. I estimate
your internet server's downtime is roughly 35% -- the
hours between about 6pm and midnight, Monday through
Friday, and most of the weekend.
I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I
have made nine calls on my mobile to your no-help line,
and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of
disinterested individuals who are, it seems, also
highly skilled bollock jugglers. I have been informed
that a telephone line is available (and someone will
call me back); that I will be transferred to someone
who knows whether or not a telephone line is available
(and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to
someone (and then been redirected to an answering
machine informing me that your office is closed); that
I will be transferred to someone and then been
redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman, and
several other variations on this theme.
Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you
have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers
to ignore, and also another one of those crucially
important testicle moments to attend to. Frankly I
don't care. It's far more satisfying as a customer to
voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at
your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I
continue.
I truly thought British Telecom was shit, and they
had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer
relations; and that no one, anywhere, ever, could be
more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to
delivering service to their customers. That's why I
chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else
is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I
discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and
disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you
truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended
rectum incompetents of the highest order.
BT -- wankers though they are -- shine like brilliant
beacons of success in the filthy mire of your seemingly
limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now
given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive
any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease
any potential future attempts to extort payment from me
for the services which you have so pointedly and
catastrophically failed to deliver. Any such activity
will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief
and will quickly be replaced by derision, and even
perhaps bemused rage.
I enclose two small deposits, selected with great
care from my cat's litter tray, as an expression of my
utter and complete contempt for both you and your
pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not
become desiccated during transit -- they were
satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would
feel considerable disappointment if you did not
experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture.
Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings
towards NTL, and its worthless employees.
Have a nice day. May it be the last in your miserable
short lives, you irritatingly incompetent and
infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.
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