Hot Chocolate, Greensleeves and BT.

I have had two quite different experiences of customer service this week that I would like to tell you about as both have left me with very different impressions about the customer service that I received.


The first came from a café that I visited. Billy dog and I had gone for a walk on Porthtowan beach on a cold and blustery afternoon and were about to have a soaking as we could see a band of rain approaching us from over the sea. It was then that I noticed that the beach café was open and had a sign up outside saying that dogs on leads were welcome. I felt around in my pocket and found that, amongst the dog treats, I had £3.78 which would surely be enough to buy a hot drink and shelter from the imminent shower. We went in just as the first drops of the heavy down pour started. At the counter I found that not only did I have enough money for a hot chocolate but I could afford it to be topped with squirty cream and marshmallows. Result! The young woman who took my order said that she would bring the drink over to me.


Billy and I took our seats and awaited my order whilst feeling smug that we were sitting inside in the dry and warm as the torrential rain poured outside. The café wasn't very busy, there were maybe 10 - 12 other customers there and I could see that there were 4 staff on duty, the girl that took my order, a pot wash and 2 preparing food. After a few minutes the girl I spoke to went through to the pot wash area and was chatting to the bloke on kitchen porter duties, she started eating a sandwich. There was one person preparing a food order and the other staff member was on the phone. I waited and no hot chocolate arrived. I couldn't see into the kitchen area very well from where I was sat but assumed that my drink was being made in there. A few minutes later the girl I had ordered my drink from came out into the seating area and wiped down a few tables, she then returned to eat some more of her sandwich, still no hot chocolate.


By this time Billy was starting to get a bit bored so I gave him a dog treat. A customer arrived and ordered a tea which was made for him there and then and he took it to drink at a table just along from me. Still no hot chocolate and by now Billy had finished all of his treats and I'm starting to get a bit fed up that my drink hadn't arrived. Eventually I went back to the counter and asked the girl if my drink was coming, she looked surprised and looked around into the kitchen where it was pretty obvious that no one was making my drink. She apologised and set about  making my drink in a very slow and lack luster manner. By the time I left the café, I might have been dry but I felt very annoyed.


My other experience of customer service came from BT. My broadband failed the other evening and despite following the diagnostics suggested by the help desk tool I couldn't get it back up and running. The help desk suggested that I therefore phone BT.


I was dreading the call as I imagined that I would be stuck in an automated loop where I had to press 1 for bill enquiry, 2 for wifi, 3 to report a phone fault,  4 for broadband, 5 if I wanted to listen to the options again and 6 if my next door neighbours' dog is called Marigold, however much to my relief I immediately got through to a human being. The woman I spoke to apologised when I told her that my broadband wasn't working and she ran some tests. She then told me that she needed to run a test that would interrupt my phone line so would need to call me back in approximately 3-4 minutes. Sure enough a couple of minutes later she called back to say that there was a fault, she had reported it but that it might take 3 days before an engineer could get out to fix it. She apologised for the delay in getting it sorted as she said that due to the weather the engineers were very busy but said that it might be done sooner, but 3 days would be the very latest. I put the phone down feeling that although the problem wasn't yet sorted that I had received good customer service.


So two different experiences of customer service, one where I was kept waiting for a hot chocolate (with all the trimmings) and felt that I had received poor service and one where I was to be kept waiting for my broadband to  be fixed but felt that I had had good customer service. I think that the different ways that I perceived the service I received was partly due to my expectations. In the quiet café, where I could see that the staff weren't very busy and where I was really looking forward to a warming hot drink, I was disappointed that no one appeared to care about my order. Whereas when I called BT I expected to be put in a queue and have to listen to hours of automated messages, not to mention tinny a recording of Greeensleaves, played repeatedly, before I spoke to anyone, so was really pleased when I got through quickly and easily. To my non-technical mind making hot chocolate was easy whereas fixing broadband sounds really, really hard.


And the moral of the story? I'm tempted to say that we should lower our expectations but I don't think that we should do this. Lets keep our expectations high in the hope that even these high expectations will be out shone. And if occasionally we are disappointed then we can always write a blog about it. Hot Chocolate anyone?

Scams, George Clooney and lottery wins.

Now that I am working part time I am around the house a lot more in the day time which has resulted in me picking up a lot more phone calls than I would have done when working full time. It's amazing the number of times the phone rings each day and it's lucky that I am in to catch the calls or I would never have got the call from Microsoft about the terrible virus that my computer had contracted. I would be unaware of the hundreds and possibly thousands of PPI repayments that were due to me and would have missed out completely on the amazing offer for a conservatory, despite living in a first floor flat.


Just the other day I had a call from a call center and the caller kindly informed me that the product replacement cover on my washing machine was due to expire soon. I was expecting the call to be my fourth PPI message of the day so was surprised into responding that I didn't think that this was likely. The helpful person at the other end of the line asked me why I thought that, so I explained that I had got the washing machine second hand 16 years ago and it had never been covered. The caller ended the call abruptly. It got me wondering if maybe some of these calls are scams.


This also got me thinking about what all of these calls say about society and human nature and I have come up with the following thoughts:

• A huge amount of time and effort is put into trying to scam us out of our money. There must be thousands of people across the world employed to try and trick us into giving our account details out. What if, instead of trying to steal money, those people instead did something useful. Surely they could be doing something better with their time, whether that be making, fixing or teaching something. If only the time, effort and expense that these criminal activities entail was instead put into medical research, growing crops or painting a picture what a better, healthier and brighter place the world we would be and I'm sure that it would be more lucrative for the scammers too.
• There must be a lot of really trusting, naïve people out there or the scammers would have given up yonks ago. I don't want to be cheated out of my money but wouldn't it be great to be a person who believed what others were telling them. Those of us who don't fall for the scams may be better off financially but don't we also loose out on something by being so cynical?
• It's really hard to ignore a ringing phone. I keep thinking that I should just let the phone ring and not pick up each call, and although I have left the phone to ring for a few seconds, I always chicken out and grab the handset before the call disconnects. What if I ignore a call and it happen to be George Clooney, who unknown to anyone else, is filming in the area and wants me to be an extra in his movie? To be honest this is just as likely as my quasi-antique washing machine being covered by a guarantee still.
• What is the best way to respond to these calls? Should I keep the callers talking so at least they won't be cheating anyone else, should I confront and challenge them about their criminal behavior or should I just end the call?

I don't have a solution to this problem but I am sure that there really must be better ways to earn a living. The scammers are probably intelligent people but they are really wasting their talents. I feel that they should be pitied and encouraged to find a more moral occupation.


I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on this subject and what can be done. But for now I must go; the phone is ringing and I'm pretty sure that it's George needing my acting talents, either that or I've won the Spanish Lottery.

Greatness, mice and family

Visitors to Cornwall will be wondering what the strange noise is that they can hear, as everywhere you go there is a constant clicking sound. Puzzled they will be wondering if it is the noise of pebbles tapping together as they are stirred by the waves, or if it's the result of bladder wrack seaweed popping in the wind. I suspect that the RAC and the AA will have had lots more calls outs than normal from worried motorists who think that the unexplained tapping sound is coming from their cars. To those not in the know it sounds like a pair of little mice waltzing across a parquet floor whilst wearing high heel shoes. A quiet but puzzling rhythm.

Well let me reassure you that the clippety clip tap ting  is nothing to worry about and is, in fact caused by an innocent pastime. You see Cornwall is full of the sound of knitting needles and crochet hooks working overtime. The west of Cornwall and I'm sure various other specific locations across the country have gone knitting crazy, myself included. The other thing that you should probably know is that we are all knitting with white or pastel shades in the softest of wools.

What is going on?

Lets explore the evidence: myself and friends and family have suddenly taken up knitting white and pastel articles, in cloud soft wool. Some of the garments look small enough for the previously mentioned waltzing mice to wear. It can only mean one thing, there must be a baby on the way!

I am pleased to announce that I am due to become a Great Aunt! My niece and her husband informed us all at Christmas that they are pregnant and that the baby is due on my birthday. What a gift to get for my birthday,  a new baby in the family, lets hope it's born on time. Hence family and friends are busy making baby items, pretty blankets, little coats and miniature mittens and booties. There's something so lovely about making baby things, not only are they really cute but somehow it makes you feel like you are paving the way for the next generation, that you, in a way, have a stake in the future of the child. Billy dog however is less than impressed as when I'm knitting he's not allowed on my lap and so has taken up residence on the bean bag, from where he glares at me accusingly.

Those of you who have read the "About Me" paragraph of this blog will know that I have always wanted to excel at something, to be brilliant at just one thing. Well when my niece and nephew-in-law have their child I will automatically become a Great Aunt. I get to be Great at something and haven't even had to work at it or train for it. I'm so excited! I've loved being an Aunt to my niece and nephew and couldn't have wished for better young relatives to watch grow up, however I've only ever really been an average sort of Aunt. But this summer I get to be Great. Look out world I'm coming to get you, armed with greatness, knitting needles and a ball of kitten soft wool.

Happy New Year, lasagne and Amish quilts.

This time of year I feel that I should be writing about my New Years resolutions and my plans for the year to come, but instead I feel drawn to tell you about a brilliant idea for an invention that I've come up with.

 

As some of you will know, I have just come back from a holiday in Devon and Dorset. I stayed with my sister in Dorset then a holiday cottage in Devon, where my sister and family joined us for a few days. We had a good time despite it being the wettest Christmas and New Year ever, even the ducks have been complaining about the weather.

 

I enjoy self catering holidays, somehow it never seems a chore cooking in someone elses kitchen, even if you don't always get quite as well equipped a kitchen as you would at home. Whilst in Devon we decided to make a lasagne, a popular dish in our family. We bought dried pasta sheets, cooked up the meat and cheese sauces and then went to assemble the dish. The only dish in the holiday cottage the  right size was an oval shape and as everyone knows lasagne sheets are not oval. We therefor had to break up the lasagne to try and fit them in, those of you that have tried this will know that this is not as easy a it sounds. First you lay whole pieces of pasta in the centre of the dish and then try to fill in the gaps. You eye up the size and shape of the sauce you are trying to cover then work out where exactly you need to break the pasta. Holding the lasagne sheets at a 48 degree angle to the work surface you apply enough pressure to snap the pasta into the right size and shape, et voila you neatly fill the dish.

At least this is what should happen. In reality, despite your careful preparation, when you break the pasta it's as if you have applied the same pressure as a nuclear bomb and shards of lasagne go ricocheting around the kitchen. Bearing in mind the 10 second rule, you quickly collect up the pieces of pasta, invariably banging your head on unfamiliar cupboard doors as you go. A collection of slightly fluffy pasta pieces in hand you go back to your dish only to find that you still don't have the right shape piece to fit. More pasta explosions follow, along with more foraging forays to pick up the scattered pieces, more banged heads until eventually you complete the layers. The lasagne dish which has taken more patchwork skill to make than an Amish quilt, more pieces than a crazy paved path and results in you having a mild concussion.

And my invention? Easy snap pasta sheets. It's so obvious I wonder why it hasn't been thought of before. I think the world wold be a better place if there were lasagne sheets with little perforations on, a bit like the old sheets of postage stamps, so that they could be snapped cleanly and easily.

Right I've got to go, I need to write my acceptance speech for when I get nominated for a Nobel prize for either services to humanity or maybe science, I don't mind which. Happy New Year everyone.    

Baths, prunes and World Records.

After a lovely Christmas with family and extended family we are now having a weeks break in Sidmouth. We normally book to stay in rural holiday cottages but this time we are in a lovely Victorian townhouse. Billy dog loves the view from the large bay window seat where he can watch the passers by, and we are enjoying being in a town for a change.

One thing that I do always insist on in holiday accommodation is a bath tub. At home, as my flat is the size of a postage stamp, I only have room for a shower so it's always a treat to have a soak in a bath when on holiday. We have a lovely big bathroom in this holiday house at the top of the first flight of stairs, so after a walk yesterday I was looking forward to coming back for a bath. A cup of tea later I ran the hot water, added some bubbles, stripped off and climbed in.

The one problem with the bathroom here is that there is no lock on the door, this should not have been an issue as we agreed that if the door is shut then the room is in use. I lay back in the scented water, letting the bubbles engulf me and anticipated lieing there until I resembled a wrinkled prune. Bliss.

This was when I understood why there was a door wedge on the floor behind the bathroom door, not to hold the door open as I had mistakenly assumed but to keep it closed. It seemed that the hot steamy air had a lubricating affect on the door catch because as I lay back in the water the bathroom door slowly  but inexorably opened.

My next realisation was that the bathtub was in line with the glass paned front door. I had a direct view from the bath down the stairs and out the front door. With a vague sense of amusement I realised that if it had been light outside I could have lain in the bath and watched people walk by outside. A bath with a view. Unfortunately as it was dark I couldn't see out.

My third epiphany, which struck me almost at the same time as the cold draft from the front door, was the realisation that although it was too dark outside for me to see people going by, it was in fact very bright in the bathroom. Thanks to some very efficient lighting the people going by would have no problem seeing me! I sunk down below the water, not only to avoid prying eyes but to try and keep out of the Arctic breeze that was racing up the stairs towards me.

Needless to say my bath wasn't very relaxing after this as I spent most of the time trying to keep out of sight, stay warm and planning how I was going to get from the tub to the radiator, where my towel was warming, in the shortest and least exposed period of time. If there was an Olympic sport for getting out of a bathtub I feel sure that yesterday I set, not only a personal best, but a new world record.

Happy new year everyone, please bathe safely.

Christmas, yoga and anticipation.

I drafted this post yesterday whilst having my hair done. My last post therefore before Christmas comes to you live (well nearly live) from the salon.

I am writing this post whilst sitting in the hairdressers, you can probably smell the dye, coffee and hair products as you read. I am having my Christmas haircut. I was considering having my hair braided and teased into the shape of reindeer antlers, however have decided instead to have it dyed green and cut into a Christmas tree shape so that I can festoon it with tinsel and baubels. Only kidding, I'm actually having my grey roots touched up and then my split ends are being trimmed.
The dye is on, I'm having a coffee and biscuit, there are Christmas songs on the radio and there's a gentle buz of conversation from stylists and their clients. I really love having my hair done, I like feeling spoilt and pampered, I enjoy chatting to the stylist who does my hair and who always amazes me by remembering what we talked about at the last appointment (I wonder if she makes notes of conversations as a reminder?) and I love the anticipation of knowing that for one day out of six weeks I'll have good hair.
I know people who don't enjoy it though, who worry that they won't like the cut, who when they get home immediately wash their hair as they aren't happy with how its blow dried and I know one person who doesn't like going to a hair salon as she hates sitting in front of the mirror and is embarrassed to stare at herself. I don't have this problem though as I take my glasses off whilst there so all I can see in the mirror are blurred colours and movements. The down side of this is that I have to hold books and magazines right up to my nose in order to be able to read.
I started enjoying having my hair done a lot more when I began to take a book with me to appointments. Before then I read the magazines that the salon provided and there's only so many perfume adverts, photo shoots of clothes I can't afford and wedding details of celebrities that I've never heard of that I can put up with.
The one thing that I don't enjoy about getting my hair done is the torture of leaning back over the sink to get my hair washed. The basins in salons have got to be one of the world's most useless design products. The curved groove which is supposed to craddle your neck has in fact been ergonomically designed to dig into your vertebrae and cut off the circulation to the rest of your body. To get into position where your head is anywhere near the water you need the flexibility of a yogi as your neck is required to twist itself into the lotus position. So you lie back, getting a crick in your neck, your head at such an angle that the rest of the salon can see right up your nose and still the scalding water can only actually rinse your forehead and ears and leaves your hair, especially at the back, full of suds. The price of beauty eh. I wonder what it says about me that I still enjoy getting my hair done.
This is my last post before Christmas and so my new hair and I just wanted to wish you all a very happy Christmas. I hope that the magical fairy of happiness sprinkles you all liberally with a sparkly, cinnamon fragrant dusting of joy and that at least one of your wishes comes true. I need to go now as the sink of torture is beckoning. I hope Santa brings me a neck brace to help me get over the inevitable whiplash.
Happy Christmas everyone.

Sellotape, space and Goldfish bowls.

So Tim Peake has headed off into space and I can't help but think that it should have been me.

I always fancied the idea of being an astronaut, to be able to view Earth as a globe must be amazing. If I had made a couple of different life choices it could be me up there now. Just minor changes in the decisions I made such as; studying Engineering instead of Psychology, learning to fly a plane instead of buying a house and joining the services instead of working in civilian street. So as you can see it could so easily have been me heading off into space. Of course I'd have also needed different eyes as astronauts are required to have excellent eyesight, I'd need to be a lot fitter and be about twenty years younger. Infact Tim and my almost parallel lives can be summed up perfectly in the words of John Bradford,

" There but for the grace of God go I".

So instead of heading off into space, this week I have mostly been wrapping presents. I have bought this brilliant new sellotape dispenser that fits onto the back of my hand. This means that you can cut the sticky tape one handed, essential when one hand is busy trying to hold the wrapping paper together. Earlier in the week, before I had the dispenser,  I instead cut lots of strips of sellotape and stuck them onto the edge of the coffee table. Then it was just a matter of trying to unstick the tape from the table edge, pulling it off Billy dogs ears, which just happen to be the same height as the table and trying to pull the tape apart when it curls back on itself. Now that I have my amazing new dispenser wrapping presents is a sinch, especially as the wrapping paper I've bought has lines on the back so I don't even struggle to cut straight lines. The only difficulty I have now is that Billy insists on "helping" by sitting in the middle of each piece of paper that I cut.

So OK I haven't gone into space this week and don't get to look out of my rocket window to see the Earth as a sphere. And I won't be a national hero, with the media tracking my progress, but I'm not bitter.  At least I don't have to go to work with a goldfish bowl on my head; my name doesn't sound like a 90's TV show (Tim Peake/Twin Peaks) and I won't be eating my Christmas dinner in tablet form. No I'm not jealous at all.