By Allan Crow
My vision of hell is being put on hold in a call queueing system - a place where no-one can hear you scream.
It’s a place where every call is important, but where there are never enough staff to answer the phones.
And when they do ... well, my soul just seeps out of my body.
Last week I got mired in phone banking hell. A simple query needed five calls and three operators until I felt the urge to smack my head repeatedly off the kitchen table.
All I tried to say was I wasn’t happy. Translation - they logged it as a formal complaint.
Can someone please explain to the phone folk that being no’ happy is just a Scottish way of life - not a request for disciplinary investigations to begin?!
Still, I ended up with £40 in compo I didn’t ask for, and resolved everything easily - I popped into the High Street branch. There’s a lesson there somewhere ...
VIPs: I was in Stirling at the weekend for a gig, and took in some of the Armed Forces Day.
I’m not that bothered about military hardware and parachute jumps - but there’s no denying the armed forces put on a good show.
And given the occasion, it was wall to wall with awfi’ important folk.
Within minutes of arriving I found myself ushered to one side while some high heid-yin from the navy walked past. Only realised afterwards it was Princess Anne.
I cut a corner and headed into the arena and almost ran into Ed Milliband who was busy kissing babies and shaking hands with anyone who didn’t have them stuffed into their pockets, while the men-in-earpieces 100 yards away were escorting Prime Minister David Cameron briskly through all the ordinary people.
‘Och just him’’ said one bloke unimpressed ...
This Week ... remembered how annoying a drunk is when you’re a) tired b) sober and c) killing time waiting on a train miles from home