You know, I'm not sure if people really understand the concept of blame and who it's actuallly applicable to. Barely a day goes past without a customer holding me personally to account for something that's not my fault at all. Some of these you can kinda see why the customer thinks I'm to blame but some are just fucking stupid. But then a lot of customers are just fucking stupid.
One guy wanted to pay some cash into his Co-op bank account. Fair enough, we can do that. Unfortunately, Co-op changed the procedure about 3 years ago. Previously we needed the cash deposit slip from his paying in book. They're obselete now and so instead we have to use the debit card. This has several advantages for the customer. They don't need their paying in book, the cash is credited to the account a bit quicker and (for the real fuckwits) they don't have the onerous task of filling in a paying in slip (they are tricksy little buggers, all of a little tiny bit of writing to do).
Customer presents his paying-in slip and asks to deposit some cash. "Sorry." we say, "That changed years ago, and it's got to be paid in using your debit card."
Customer then gets in a flip and utters the words which we so much love to hear.
"But I've done it before!"
He then presents his paying in book as proof. We politely point out to him that his last cash deposit is dated five years ago. This cuts little ice.
"But I've done it before!"
We heard you the first time. If he's going to repeat himself then so are we. We re-iterate the fact that his last deposit was ages ago and things have changed since then.
Most normal customers would have not bothered with this argument and would have reached for their debit cards and have paid in the cash that way. Not Twatty McAnnoying-Twat. He's not got his card with him and can't be bothered to go home and get it. At this point he storms out but not before one last (stupid) parting shot.
"I need to draw on that account tommorrow and if there's not enough money in it then it's your fault!!! If I get any bank charges, I'm going to sue you!!!"
I wish him good luck with that court case and bid him farewell.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
Old? Tick. Stupid? Tick. Iliterate? Tick. Obese? Tick. Gypsy? Tick. Annoying? Fuck yeah.
There are certain sections of the community that are more likely to get right on my tits than others. As you can probably tell from the title, the customer who inspired this post managed to fall within most of those categories.
This old bat has just opened a Post Office card account for her benefits of which she seems to get a shit load of (tick).
We kinda guessed that this was going to make life difficult for us because as well as being illiterate, she's got to be one of the stupidest people I've seen in a long time. To be honest, the mould under her fingernails (smelly? tick) is more intelligent than she is.
She finally stopped receiving her giro cheques and was told that her cash would now be paid into the account that we helped her set up (demanding? tick). First, she can't quite master the really tricky job of putting the card in the card reader the correct way round. It's hardly fucking rocket science. There's only four different ways it can possibly fit in the slot. Even a pissed up and retarded baboon could get it right fairly quickly. There's even a picture just above the slot for fucks sake. So, after about nine attempts to get the card in correctly we asked her how much money she would like. "All of it" came the inevitable response.
"Pop your number in please"
"What number?"
"Your pin number"
"What number's that?"
"The four digit number you were sent."
"Ahhh, this number" (brandishing a piece of paper with a number written on it.)
"Let's try it and find out."
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep
"That was the wrong number."
"No it wasn't."
"Well, you might have caught a number twice. Try it again and we'll see."
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep
"Hmm, that was the wrong number again. Would you like my colleague to help you?"
"Yes."
(Colleague reads number that's scrawled onto a piece of paper. The six is written backwards or may be a two. We can't tell. Colleague makes best guess and gets the number wrong).
At this point we tell her what's gone wrong and that she needs to call the phone number on the back of the card and tell them that she's locked the card up. This information doesn't seem to be going in.
Twenty minutes later, her son (who is a dead ringer for Cletus the slack jawed yokel in The Simpsons physically, mentally and even has an accent that suggests his family tree is deficient in the branch department) comes in and asks what to do. We tell him to get his mum to phone the number on the back of her card and tell them what happened. This is not good enough despite being the correct information. He demands the number of the department that issues the benefits. We tell him that they won't be able to help and that she needs to call the number on the card. He still wants the other number. Big sighs all round so we give him the number he wants. He then buggers off and we don't see him again for the next couple of days so we assume that things have been sorted out.
See if you can guess whether they have or not.
I'll give you a clue, this family is composed of slack jawed oxygen thieves who are so stupid and pointless that they'd cause Gandhi to passionately argue in favour of eugenics if he ever met them.
Today, family Idiot comes marching in to get mum's pension.
Upon her first attempt, the till tells her to get in contact with the card issuer. Translation, the card is still locked up.
"But I rang the phone number and they said that the money was in the account."
Did we tell you that there was no money in the account? Did we? I know this is probably going to cause you an injury but think really hard for a moment. Is that what we said or did we tell you that you'd fucked up with the pin number and the card was blocked until you tell them to unblock it? So now, please go away and phone the number on the card and tell them to unblock the pin. Is that difficult? I would write it down for you but seeing as you can't read, that'd be about as much help to you as you are to society at large. Actually, that's not fair. She might eat the piece of paper or burn it or something whereas she's nothing but a fucking parasite.
They leave. Less than chuffed.
One hour later, they troop back in again. At this point an almost identical conversation occurs except this time, they're a bit more annoyed. Christ on a bike. We've done our best* but they can't be trusted to follow some simple instructions. On storming out, the old woman says "What do you expect me to do? Starve to death?"
Frankly fatty, that's gonna take a while.
Fucking morons.
*Blatant lie actually, we could have phoned the card issuers then and there and spoken to them ourselves and got this sorted but frankly, we don't like these people so they can go and fuck themselves. For the sake of accuracy, it should read "we've done our best for all they know.
This old bat has just opened a Post Office card account for her benefits of which she seems to get a shit load of (tick).
We kinda guessed that this was going to make life difficult for us because as well as being illiterate, she's got to be one of the stupidest people I've seen in a long time. To be honest, the mould under her fingernails (smelly? tick) is more intelligent than she is.
She finally stopped receiving her giro cheques and was told that her cash would now be paid into the account that we helped her set up (demanding? tick). First, she can't quite master the really tricky job of putting the card in the card reader the correct way round. It's hardly fucking rocket science. There's only four different ways it can possibly fit in the slot. Even a pissed up and retarded baboon could get it right fairly quickly. There's even a picture just above the slot for fucks sake. So, after about nine attempts to get the card in correctly we asked her how much money she would like. "All of it" came the inevitable response.
"Pop your number in please"
"What number?"
"Your pin number"
"What number's that?"
"The four digit number you were sent."
"Ahhh, this number" (brandishing a piece of paper with a number written on it.)
"Let's try it and find out."
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep
"That was the wrong number."
"No it wasn't."
"Well, you might have caught a number twice. Try it again and we'll see."
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep
"Hmm, that was the wrong number again. Would you like my colleague to help you?"
"Yes."
(Colleague reads number that's scrawled onto a piece of paper. The six is written backwards or may be a two. We can't tell. Colleague makes best guess and gets the number wrong).
At this point we tell her what's gone wrong and that she needs to call the phone number on the back of the card and tell them that she's locked the card up. This information doesn't seem to be going in.
Twenty minutes later, her son (who is a dead ringer for Cletus the slack jawed yokel in The Simpsons physically, mentally and even has an accent that suggests his family tree is deficient in the branch department) comes in and asks what to do. We tell him to get his mum to phone the number on the back of her card and tell them what happened. This is not good enough despite being the correct information. He demands the number of the department that issues the benefits. We tell him that they won't be able to help and that she needs to call the number on the card. He still wants the other number. Big sighs all round so we give him the number he wants. He then buggers off and we don't see him again for the next couple of days so we assume that things have been sorted out.
See if you can guess whether they have or not.
I'll give you a clue, this family is composed of slack jawed oxygen thieves who are so stupid and pointless that they'd cause Gandhi to passionately argue in favour of eugenics if he ever met them.
Today, family Idiot comes marching in to get mum's pension.
Upon her first attempt, the till tells her to get in contact with the card issuer. Translation, the card is still locked up.
"But I rang the phone number and they said that the money was in the account."
Did we tell you that there was no money in the account? Did we? I know this is probably going to cause you an injury but think really hard for a moment. Is that what we said or did we tell you that you'd fucked up with the pin number and the card was blocked until you tell them to unblock it? So now, please go away and phone the number on the card and tell them to unblock the pin. Is that difficult? I would write it down for you but seeing as you can't read, that'd be about as much help to you as you are to society at large. Actually, that's not fair. She might eat the piece of paper or burn it or something whereas she's nothing but a fucking parasite.
They leave. Less than chuffed.
One hour later, they troop back in again. At this point an almost identical conversation occurs except this time, they're a bit more annoyed. Christ on a bike. We've done our best* but they can't be trusted to follow some simple instructions. On storming out, the old woman says "What do you expect me to do? Starve to death?"
Frankly fatty, that's gonna take a while.
Fucking morons.
*Blatant lie actually, we could have phoned the card issuers then and there and spoken to them ourselves and got this sorted but frankly, we don't like these people so they can go and fuck themselves. For the sake of accuracy, it should read "we've done our best for all they know.
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