Really. REALLY? Then please Natwest kindly explain why you appear to have only 4 members of staff answering customer queries for the whole of the UK this afternoon.
As if it wasn’t hard enough to get all the chores done in the 2x 20 minute stints Dexter gifts me throughout the day - now I’m having to spend time glued to a telephone that gives me just 3ft of cable length within which to contain my crawling tot. With one hand furled around the receiver, and the other shoved up a puppets rear end in a desperate attempt to entertain Dex, I have only my feet free to pull him back when he starts losing interest in Sooty.
All this because my bank card was swallowed up by a cash machine whilst on my way to buy some baby formula from the supermarket. Nevermind the rationing of baby milk for the UK market, I have just 2 scoops left in my carton and Dexter is on a growth spurt! There’s only so much pear and banana I can give him before he starts to get all toddler-angsty on me.
I wouldn’t mind so much if this was a one-off. But it’s not. It feels like everyday I’m having to sit on a sofa cushion on cold bare wood floor glued to my trusty old bakelite telephone. As we only have one telephone point, and it’s located in perhaps the single most inconvenient place in the house, I’m constantly sat in this dismal little corner telling the automated harbinger of call queue updates where to shove her imaginary headset… For about the millionth time this year I remind myself to buy a hands free phone.
Yes I have a mobile… but I really resent having to pay premium rates for a free-phone number. Whether it’s a extortionate gas bill, a rejected direct debit instruction, or our internet is down - it seems like they’re all I call at the moment. When 6pm comes and all the call centres shut, the last thing I feel like doing to calling up a friend to chat about their marital problems for an hour. My brain can’t handle having to hold anymore conversations when I can’t see people’s lips!
So here I am browsing for cordless phones. I need a sleek sexy little cordless that’ll fit in the nook of my neck whilst I change dirty nappies or blog. If I sat and waited for a conversation to end before I attempted anything else I’d be sat on a sofa for 3 hours. An answering machine would also be good so I could let the call run through before deciding to answer it - nothing worse than being sat on a call from a double glazing company who gets over excited that someone actually answered at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
On that subject, I really should get myself signed up to the TPS to stop these nuisance calls. Having signed up to Emma’s Diary in a state of excitement when I first became pregnant, they’ve done a number on me and passed my details to just about every company in Thomson Local.
Anyway rant over. New phone ordered. Now to relax and try to get through last night’s Don’t Just Stand There… I’m Having Your Baby (and we all know how difficult I’m finding watching TV at the moment!)- the next cold caller will get an earful of labour sounds. Now that might just work…
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