May plague and pestilence befall the cunts at Post Office Ltd!! Thank you for the lovely quarterly bill for £112.52 that landed on my floor today you hopeless fucking arseholes!
This in spite of the fact that I have a monthly direct debit with them. The woman on the help-line tried to explain it, but I couldn't quite figure out what she was getting at. Nor could she if the truth be told, so I bit my lip and left it. I'm crap in these situations. Hopeless in fact. If only I could hire an army of bitter, snippy middle aged women, or a gang of argumentative Glaswegian navvies to handle my telephone correspondences. I'd be swimming in free stuff and goodwill.
I'm currently considering one of two options. Either I accept my financial hosing with good grace, or I call up again and ask a few more pertinent questions, like............
"Why wasn't I warned in writing that my line rental had 'expired'?"
"Why has this occurred? Was it something I said or did?"
"Why do I have to cough up for a quarterly period instead of just the last two months?"
"Do you enjoy ripping off increasingly depressed, poverty stricken oafs like me?"
Ok, so the last one's a bit unfair, but I'm not in a mood for equanimity or fairness. The world isn't fair, which is why I'm running out of cash only a week after being paid.
That said, it is my fault. I missed the fact that I'd not been debited in January, and only just realised nothing came off last month. Oh, and I hadn't received my monthly bill for a while. It has to be said, I've not been myself of late. Work is chipping away at my soul, a little every day. I'm starting to share the same dark, appalling thoughts about my manager as the weird, borderline sociopath who works in my section and won't talk to me. The house hasn't been hoovered in months, the dishes get done once a week whether they need it or not and I've become obsessed with the passage of hours and minutes, to the extent that I clock-watch relentlessly out of work hours.
The fact that just under twenty quid hasn't come out of my account for a few months is of little importance to me right now.
Fucksticks!!
5 comments:
Hey Ill Man, I can be bitter & snippy & middleaged(!) if I put my mind to it, but when facing these kind of 'helplines' I usually become tearful and needing care in the community when I can't get the facts across to whoever is supposed to be 'helping'. Hope you are feeling less rage against the machine, at least the sun is out, for a wee while anyway til the sleet comes.
The Hopeless Bank of Scotland where we have stupidly had a bank account for a number of years have cocked up our DD's plunging us into unauthorised od territory. So what do they do? Apologise? No they bounce the next batch and charge us £35 quid a go for the priveledge. Oh yes and then write to us. Cunts!
Nasim - The sun was out today, wasn't it? It got awful grey about 3pm though. Helplines are a mixed bag. Sometimes they do what it says on the tin, other times they leave you just as confused as when you started.
TBW - I've realised that it's probably not PO, but my bank who are to blame. The Direct Debit seems to have been cancelled without my authorisation, I failed to notice, and so I'm slapped with a lovely quarterly bill.
As one of life's incompetent arses, I'm hesitant to heap scorn on anyone, but this is a bit much.
This song always helps me out when work is hard going.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9N2CANatVYQ&feature=related
"I'm Huey Lewis, and you've just heard The News!"
Ah, good old Shug. Telling it like it is....
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