British Telecom offers various packages for Internet access. Their product range comes under the name of BT Openworld, a name calculated to send shivers down the spine of all BT Customers, or anyone else for that matter.
One of the services BT Openworld provides, to employ a euphemism, goes by the name of BT Anytime. I pay £14.99 per month for the privilege of using this service, which I signed on to in June of this year. For this payment I can use BT Anytime anytime, 24 hours per day, seven days per week, except when it is not available.
Until 11 days ago there were no real problems with Internet access. I had two dial-up numbers to choose from, so if I experienced an error dialling one of these numbers, I just used the second number. The line would drop from time to time, but not to an extent which annoyed me greatly. So far, so good.
On 17 September, as previously advised by letter, one of these numbers was discontinued and the other one was changed, so I now have one access number.
From day one of the change it has proved impossible to connect to the Internet at peak times, say between 5.30 and 11.00 in the evening. When I can connect, the incidence of my line dropping is worse than formerly by a factor of about 10.
Since I cannot use BT Anytime at anytime in the evening, and since I have important messages to post on SDMB, without which the entire membership of SDMB would breathe a sigh of relief, I am using metered dialup during the hours of BT Anytime’s Notime.
I have support numbers I can call, and call them I did.
Let us identify these numbers, just to pluck three random names out of the air, as Bullshit#1, Bullshit#2 and Bullshit#3.
Bullshit#1 accepts calls relating to problems specifically relating to the change of access number. The cost of a call is National Rate. I don’t know the exact charge per minute, but it is relatively inexpensive.
Bullshit#2 is a technical support line. It is a Premium Rate number, and costs £0.50 per minute.
Bullshit3 is a billing helpline, and is another National Rate number.
My first call goes to Bullshit#1 who, after I have described the situation, tells me I have a software configuration problem. I suspect Bullshit#1 is bullshitting, but I try his recommended solution.
This fails.
My second call also goes to Bullshit#1 (Different Bullshitter), who tells me to call Bullshit#2. I point out that a) I had no access problems before 17 September and b) the access only fails in the evenings and c) Bullshit#2 is an expensive way to get help for a problem which is not my fault.
Of course, all the time I have suspected the difficulties are due to congestion, because it does not require a Rocket Scientist to add one and one to get, er, two.
I explain this to Bullshit#1, who notes my point but decides to give me another software fix anyway.
This fails also.
My third call goes to Bullshit#1 (Yet Another Bullshitter), and this time I tell him that a fix is the last thing I need. Well, a software fix anyway, because I am wishing I had something to relax me, such as a spliff, or maybe a punchbag with BT Openworld stencilled on it.
Bullshit#1 again tells me to call Bullshit#2 (£0.50 per minute) and this time I agree, because I feel like talking to someone different, preferably someone with a Brain.
My fourth call goes to Bullshit#2 (£0.50 per minute) and I spend about £2.00 explaining their problem to him.
Bullshit#2 admits that there is a problem with Internet access, which engineers are looking at. I ask him if the problem is due to volume of traffic, and he says he cannot tell me what the problem is. I ask him again what the problem is and he says General Technical Difficulties.
I ask Bullshit#2 to define these difficulties, and he tells me that they are General Technical Ones.
I ask him for his full name. He says he cannot divulge it. I ask him where he is based. He says he is In the Midlands. I ask him where In The Midlands. He says In The Midlands.
I ask Bullshit#2 if I can speak to a supervisor. He says No. The supervisor doesn’t get in until 6pm. (It is now 5.30pm). I ask him to speak to a supervisor and tell him I require a return call within the hour.
Bullshit#2 tells me that One hour is not possible. How about 48 hours?
I politely ask Bullshit#2 what sort of fucking company he is working for anyway. My partner, who is eavesdropping on this call (She is an accountant. All she can hear is expenditure clocking up on the call), tells me to chill out. I ignore this piece of irrelevence and continue my amicable conversation with Bullshit#2.
Eventually, I manage to convey my dissatisfaction sufficiently to get Bullshit#2 to promise a return call from a supervisor within the hour.
My Premium Rate call costs me £10.50.
Magically, the telephone rings within the hour. It is Bullshit#2 (No Supervisor But The Same Person). I am displeased, but I apologise for my previous outburst, as I know he is only following orders.
Bullshit#2 tells me that having spoken to a supervisor, there is nothing they can do. He tells me to call Bullshit#1 again. My reaction to this suggestion can be described as either slightly disappointed or fucking annoyed, take your pick.
My fifth call goes to Bullshit#1 (Bullshitter#4) and I have to explain everything which has gone down with Bullshit#2.
I ask him for his full name, which he refuses to give me. I ask him where he works, and he won’t even tell me he is based In The Midlands, which I happen to know anyway, because I have a good memory and anyway, I have written it down somewhere.
This time, I explain that I want a postal address. I wish to send a letter of mild complaint, via Registered Mail, because I am Bored With The Whole Thing.
Bullshit#2 tells me to send an email.
I explain that I need to attach appendices to my letter, and I do not have a scanner. (This is a lie). Bullshit#2 goes away and leaves me listening to some music (Greensleeves) and returns after two minutes. He tells me that a letter is no good. I will get the same response as I would if I sent an email.
I explain that I need to attach appendices to my letter, and I do not have a scanner. I wish to type the letter, sign it, attach the appendices (using a stapler), put everything in an envelope (A4), stick the envelope down using the gum provided for that purpose, weigh the envelope, take it to the Post Office, ask the Post Office to send the item by Registered Post, pay the fee, obtain a receipt, and lock the receipt in a safe so that nobody from BT Openworld can break in to my house and Steal It.
More Greensleeves.
Bullshit#2 (Bullshitter#5) comes on the line. I ask him if he works for MI5, and he says No. I believe him. I ask him for his name and gives me His Full Name! I fall off my chair, but I take the phone with me because I don’t want FullName! to hang up.
Fullname!, through gritted teeth, gives me a postal address in Exeter, Devon, which he says is a Customer Services address. Now, I am taken by surprise again, because Customer Services is the last thing I expect to hear in the same sentence as BT Openworld, but at least I can’t fall any further because I am still on the floor.
I rise up to my full height (5’ 9") and write down the address. I ask Fullname! where he is based, and he tells me Derby and I fall over in surprise again. (Derby is In The Midlands).
I am obviously on a roll, so I ask Fullname! for the name of his manager, which he says he cannot divulge. I ask him why all the secrecy with names and addreses. He says I would have thought it was obvious.
Oh really.
Still, two out of three isn’t bad, so after mentioning such matters as Newspapers and Bad Publicity, I hang up.
I now decide to contact Bullshit#3 (Billing) to discover the procedure for obtaining refunds. Bullshit#3 tells me his first name, but refuses to give me his surname. I tell him The Whole Story, and ask about recompense.
FirstName explains that no refunds are possible.
I point out the lack of service, and the Premium Rate Calls (£0.50 per minute) I have made, and the metered dialup calls I am making (via BT, but not BT Openworld, don’t ask), and Firstname says that engineers are working on the problem and I must Be Patient.
Patience is not what I have in mind at this time, actually.
I point out that I am paying BT Openworld for a service I am not receiving and that I am spending More Money (with BT but not BT Openworld) in order to access the Internet.
FirstName tells me he sees my point but No Refunds and Certainly No Reimbursement For Metered Dialup. I ask Firstname for the name of the Chief Executive of BT Openworld. He says he cannot reveal this information.
I tell FirstName that I know the address of MI5, the CIA, the FBI, the SAS, McDonalds, and Burger King, together with the people who run these Agencies Of Espionage (and Fast Food), so Why The Fuck can’t I be told who runs BT Openworld?
FirstName says the name might be on the Internet, but he can’t be sure.
I ask FirstName how he feels working for such a secretive and unco-operative company. Firstname says No Comment.
I mention Newspapers, Bad Publicity and Television Coverage before hanging up.
My BT Anytime (But Not All The Time) line has disconnected 9 times during the typing of this post. It’s lucky (?) that I can retain the page when this happens.
I am now going upstairs to shoot myself.
Bet you I miss.
