Recently Forwarded to me - but of interest to all
Customer Complaint
What follows is a superb example of British humor in A LETTER THAT WAS
TRULY WRITTEN AND SENT. The piece suggests two things:
1) Americans and Canadians are not the only ones who get poor service
from their ISP, cable and/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 B&H 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 fat 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 it -- and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet
server's downtime is roughly 35% -- the hours between about 6 pm 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 thought British Telecom was shit; that 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 competents
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 twits.
Customer Complaint
What follows is a superb example of British humor in A LETTER THAT WAS
TRULY WRITTEN AND SENT. The piece suggests two things:
1) Americans and Canadians are not the only ones who get poor service
from their ISP, cable and/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 B&H 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 fat 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 it -- and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet
server's downtime is roughly 35% -- the hours between about 6 pm 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 thought British Telecom was shit; that 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 competents
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 twits.
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