Tuesday, 5 June 2007

I am speaking to British Gas...

Right now. I really want to shout but I have resolved not to any more because it's not the fault of the person with the strong accent - God knows they're only trying to earn enough cash to get them through their basic English classes. I'm listening to a glorious muzak version of 'everybody wants to rule the world'. They're not so good at subliminal messages at BG. It's worse than the original by far and that was the biggest pile of atonal monkey gurgling. Ooh...am getting annoyed... Still waiting for the girl to get back to me. Ah ha...here she is, excuse me a moment.

Apparently I don't owe them any money after all. It's a shame they wasted those letters. All 11 of them.

Post script:
they phoned me back! With a private number. i had to put the phone down on S who was asking me funny questions about my height and weight. The world's gone mad. They were wrong again: I do owe them money. I put her on hold while i spoke to my supervisor and i asked her to key in her 47 digit account number, date of birth, mother's maiden name, cup size and pin number but she put the phone down.

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