Hopeless Sanity Breaking Corporation

How easily relative calm is broken. One would suppose a simple transfer transaction online, an action that I’ve regularly performed, would cause few if any emotional problems. That presumption proved false yesterday morning. Owing to malfunction of a security device I had to use an alternative method of logging on; so far all was well until I was informed that the alternative access method would shortly be phased out.

My next action was to use live chat, to find out how I could obtain a replacement security device. Two methods were available but I opted for a simple telephone call, via which I could obtain a replacement within five working days. Having been requested, by a disembodied voice, to input sort code, account number, my date of birth etc; which information I happily supplied, I was suddenly thrown when they asked me to input digits from my telephone banking password. As I don’t do telephone banking, I was unable to oblige. After holding for a considerable time I was put through to a distant call centre (presumably somewhere on the South Asian sub-continent) and was relieved to hear a real human voice!

I immediately informed the human, at the other end of the line, that I don’t do telephone banking but I was given their number to request a replacement secure key. At first this seemed to be going well until they requested I input a digit from the aforementioned telephone banking password. Talk about going round in circles; a short while later having given further security info, she requested that I confirm a favourite quote, place etc; and some other information, the spoken words of which I was unable to decipher. By now I’d reached breaking point; I explained that I was of a certain age and suffering from a chronic health condition and all I wanted was a replacement device. My beloved, noticing my distress took over the call and, without any further questions being asked was informed that the requested device would be despatched to me.

Ringing The Changes

It was really good to receive a 'phone call from my physio, this morning, having heard nothing since August. The call confirmed my suspicion that she'd had a relapse, being a fellow M.E. sufferer, and consequently been out of circulation since August. Fortunately, she has now returned to work for a few hours each week, even though those few hours are already proving quite exhausting but, with a bit of careful management, she hopes to return to her normal hours in the new year. I'm now looking forward to the next call when she'll be arranging a visit to apply the magic needles (I'm talking acupuncture here) to yours truly. The treatment I've received, by this means, has proved most efficacious both in terms of pain control and re-energizing.

My second 'phone call of the day was quite unwelcome. Having given a second chance (disregarding their somewhat inflated prices) to 'Pieroth', the wine merchant whose reps visit one at home for a wine tasting, and placed an order for a case which we received in the past week, they decided to give us a call today to try and sell us some more.

The reason we'd previously given up on them was the high number of unwelcome canvassing phone calls, a reason which we had explained to them on numerous occasions. This time there will be no further chances, they can keep their product and stuff it where the sun don't shine. When will they ever learn?

Like a circle in a spiral

Once upon a time one picked up a telephone and rang through to the surgery to order a repeat prescription but, sadly those days are gone. Once upon another time, my local pharmacy did the job for me but, on almost every other occasion, something went wrong (at the pharmacies collection and delivery end I suspect – having had no such problem when I changed to the next system for placing repeat requests) and it took an increasing period of time before the prescription was fulfilled.

Next came a great boon; after faffing about on line for initial registration, it became conveniently possible to order a repeat prescription online. No problems with that system until, this morning, when I was greeted with a different signing on screen. The system has evidently been changed to improve efficiency. Unfortunately the new system requires a “user name” which has not yet been allocated. I duly rang the surgery who informed me that a) you will not be able to use the system this week and, b) you will be receiving a letter (via snail mail) in a few days informing you about the new system!

It would have been helpful if we had been informed that the system was going to be inaccessible, thus allowing us to place the repeat prescription request in advance! Do I take two bus journeys, each way, to drop in a repeat prescription request or, do I give the local pharmacy another try? Perhaps I’ll wait until ma belle chauffeuse is available and drop in the repeat prescription form that day; this latter approach could save a lot of additional frustration.

Of Rain, Needlepoint and Relief

Just one of those familiar night alerts; I wake suddenly to obey a call of nature. Look at the clock but, owing to the darkness, fail to believe the time it tells. The display tells me that it’s three forty-five (am) but the enveloping darkness suggests somewhere between midnight and one (am); an ominous start to the day. Elements of the dawn chorus drift through the open window, striving to affirm clock time.

 

I soon drift back into the realm of sleep and on re-awaking, some six hours later, the light (or relative absence of such) suggests a much earlier time than that the chronometer tells. Torrential rain seems to have set in; my beloved remembers that it’s supposed to be the local play school’s Gala Day on the playing fields, just around the corner from our home; I can’t help having a sneaking premonition that it may be called off. I like to make the effort, stamina permitting, to support these events but it seems that I may be able to preserve my energy.

 

Yesterday proved to be one of those woozy zonked-out days, not too surprising as the previous day had been one of my human pincushion sessions (acupuncture); it’s quite normal to feel a little washed out the day after!  At lunchtime I received a most welcome ’phone call from my physiotherapist / acupuncturist to say that my medical appointment in York has been cancelled. The department will now be contacting her directly to determine whether an assessment is necessary and, if necessary, it will be a ‘home assessment’. That news was subsequently confirmed by e-mail, just in case I thought I was dreaming!!!

 

In spite of an all too familiar fatigue, and the somewhat oppressive nature of the day, some of my daily compliment of aches and pains seem to have gone into a temporary hibernation, their presence a mere shadow compared to that of recent days. The acupuncture seems to be kicking in!

 

As I write this, the day seems to have brightened a little but, I fear it may be a little late to redeem the Gala.

ATOS Calling

11.30 am, Sunday morning, and the telephone rings. The caller asks if I’m me, a disembodied voice from ATOS, the private medical arm employed by the DWP, proffering me a date to attend a medical in York. It has got to be York (not Leeds, my preferred option next to a home visit), in the most dismally oppressive claustrophobic building, where one is locked in the waiting room, outer door locked behind you and the door to reception locked in front of you. If you need the toilet, one has to get the attention of the receptionist and traverse the corridors beyond the receptionists room; an ideal setting for people who have problems with their physical and/or mental health.

The date suggested by the disembodied one is a Tuesday, to which I have to point out that I’d already explained on my form that Wednesdays are the only day when my beloved chauffeuse is available to transport me there. Of course, they had an available time on the Wednesday so they’ll be sending a confirmation letter regarding the date and time of the appointment.

In less than one year’s time, I shall be in receipt of a State Pension, as well as a couple of other policies maturing; the big question is, will I be in receipt of incapacity benefit until that time? The unpredictable nature of my condition, how I will be from one day to the next, (the only certainty being that if I overdo it I’ll be wrecked for several succeeding days), has prevented me from taking on any voluntary work or having what I used to consider a normal social life. To be honest, if I was to declare myself as being available for paid employment, I would be lying to myself as well as any potential employer. I’m sure they’d all rush for the opportunity to give employment on the basis that I would only attend when I was fit or alert enough to attend, at the whim of my erratic achingly exhausted body.

The only viable option, should they (under their remit to attack the most vulnerable members of society) deny my eligibility for IB, is to live off my savings, and make the necessary national insurance contributions, for the next eleven months.

Just something I had to get off my chest, at the same time acknowledging that there are far too many people in a worse predicament and condition than myself. I just wonder why I should be made to feel guilty about having a health condition which is not immediately obvious, except to those like my beloved who have to live with its effects.

Adventures in the world of Customer Service

Today has been something of an adventure, for both my beloved and myself; an adventure we could have done without but, I suppose it’s all part of life’s rich tapestry. The fact that I was already quite exhausted and, full of miscellaneous aches and pains, as I reluctantly dragged myself out from the duvet lair, didn’t really help.

Last evening, my beloved belatedly informed me that she’d lost her mobile phone and, we realized we would have to go and sort out a replacement one this morning. I vainly tried phoning the old mobile number, several times, but only managed to get the network providers answering service in response as, “the person you are calling is not available” (or at least words to that effect).

This morning, my beloved drove us into town to visit the Orange shop and, much as I like to berate capitalist enterprises, the staff there proved most helpful. Our only requirement was a rather basic pay- as-you-go telephone, we’re not the last of the big spenders by any means, but the young gentleman who served us (despite having a rather irate customer to calm down) couldn’t have been more obliging.

As Helen had her top-up card with her, he told us that he could transfer the old number to the new phone and Sim card so no credit would be lost, nor would my beloved need to contact everyone to inform them of a number change! I was somewhat surprised when the company, on the telephone asked to speak to me, as well as Helen, to approve the change and, I struggled to try and remember whether the original phone (to which the old Sim card belonged) had perhaps been a present from me!

Having spent over an hour in the shop, my fatigue was beginning to get the better of me and, the only seating was of the bar stool variety; at least that was a slight improvement on my rapidly faltering attempt to remain upright on my feet.

Transaction completed, we returned home for lunch when, almost by accident, I recognized that the mobile number ma belle had given to the shop was that of my phone! Crisis … panic … chest tightening … nausea inducing …; after last weeks extra exertions, I’m still somewhat struggling in the emotional stamina stakes.

Helen boldly sallied forth to the Orange shop once more and, they supplied her with the appropriate number to call so that the mix-up could be sorted out. Once again, as soon an advisor was available telephonically, Orange came up trumps and the whole matter was resolved in a much quicker time-frame than had been envisaged. Within an hour of our call, my mobile had been disconnected and re-connected and, Helen’s mobile was functioning correctly on her old number!!!

In an age when the words CUSTOMER and SERVICE seem to dwell in an uneasy relationship, these CUSTOMERS are well and truly pleased with the SERVICE they received! Thank you ORANGE.

But as I whisper sweet nothings in my beloved’s shell-like, I feel that I should add the words, “but no more adventures please!”

Todays Giant Leap

Step One: Pick up a telephonic communication device.
Step Two: Using normal digital dexterity, depress the relevant buttons.
Step Three: Confirm and dispatch the input digits.
Step Four: A voice acknowledges that contact has been achieved.
Step Five: [This is the big one].The preceding steps having been achieved; enter into dialogue with the voice on the receiving telephone. Respond to the voice in supplying the required information before being transferred to another disembodied voice. Receive instructions.
Step Six: Disconnect and attempt to follow received instructions in another area of my life.

So, that’s my major achievement of the day, carrying out a business transaction on the telephone without becoming unduly stressed. It’s too difficult to convey just what an achievement that is!

Congratulations .. You Have Just Earned A Boycott!

Just had a 'phone call, a grating (feel the grin) North American "happy holidays" type voice. One is aware that it's a recorded voice but, can't resist the urge to tell 'em to get stuffed before slamming the phone down. "Congratulations", they say, "you have just won...." and one can only feel a gnawing pain in the deepest recess of the guts at such a cloying, ingratating voice.

Unsurprisingly the caller's number is never available when one tries 1471 in order to know what firm to report. Our phone number is ex-directory, we are registered to be excluded from any direct marketing lists, but still the intrusion of North America into our lives cannot be avoided!

This kind of telephonic intrusion should be tackled even more strenuously than spam e-mail. If anyone really wants to give me a prize or present ... please deliver it direct, no strings attached; money is always welcome, as is anything we can sell for a reasonable monetary return. We will not under any circumstances reply to any unsolicited phone calls, mail or e-mail .... the likely response is to boycott any company responsible for this despicable practise.

Here endeth the lesson!