Flights
Posted: Thu 20 October, 2005 Filed under: Sweary, Thoughts, Travel 1 Comment »After last night’s flight, I found myself wondering – yet again – what it is that makes people completely ignore the booking regulations, and carry on two (or, in a couple of cases, three or four) bags as hand-luggage? The booking confirmations etc. clearly say
“Baggage allowances: Hand baggage – 1 piece that should not exceed 115cm (sum of length, width and height), maximum weight 7kg, plus 1 laptop. Hold baggage – maximum 2 pieces, total weight of pieces must not exceed 20kg, excess baggage will be charged at £5/€7.5/$9 per kilo.”
It’s not rocket-science. But a good 80% of the travellers last night had got at least two bits of hand luggage, and so the entire plane was jammed rigid with the stuff, and the fucking twunts were walking up and down trying to find a space for their stuff. Not that they remembered where they’d finally managed to put it, so when we landed they were still trying to walk up and down, and remember where they’d put their super-essential can’t-go-in-the-fucking-hold piece of tat, forcing their way past the people who were standing waiting to get out.
And that’s another thing – what’s the bloody hurry? As soon as the door opens, everyone’s standing, waiting to get out, getting stressed, and they’re not going to get there any faster. In fact it always amuses me to see these twats who’ve been so “I’m so important, I’ve got to get off the plane, I’m an a hurry” then still waiting at the luggage collection when I get there – and yes, they’re getting even more stressed. Which turns to apoplexy when – as last night – I can stroll up ten minutes after they got there, just as the bags start rolling out, pick mine up within the first five bits (there’s an advantage to a bright yellow Cat® holdall instead of the anonymous black roll-along thing that seems to be de rigeur among the business execs) and wander through to departures while they’re still waiting for their stuff, and/or deciding which one of the ubiquitous roll-alongs is actually theirs. Comedy in the making.
Fuckers
Posted: Wed 12 October, 2005 Filed under: Sweary, Travel 1 Comment »I was supposed to be going to see Alabama 3 at the London Astoria last night. I’d got the ticket, and was looking forward to it.
Then I got to the ticket office.
“You do realise we’re not running any trains from London after 9pm tonight, don’t you?”
“No, no-one’s mentioned that, even on trainline.com, or on your *cough* helpful notice board”
“Yeah, no trains tonight – there’s some maintenance work we need to do, so there’s no trains”
Fucking great.
I did try finding out whether trains would still run from Paddington to Reading, where I could then get one back to Bracknell, but once the woman in the ticket office tried telling me I’d need to go via Guildford, and might get back to Bracknell by 1.30 if I was lucky, I just though Bollocks to it.
So – another concert missed. I’m beginning to wonder if this year is cursed for gigs. Better not be, as we’re seeing Faithless at Brixton Academy at the end of November…
Arses
Posted: Fri 23 September, 2005 Filed under: Customer Services, Sweary, Thoughts Leave a comment »It’s going to be one of those days today. The ineffable tossers at TicketMaster sent out an email today containing an offer that – for once – was actually going to be of use to me, as it involved tickets for a new London show at half price. Perfect for Mother’s birthday in late November, in fact.
So I went to order them, typed in the password that was on the page they gave me, and an error message popped up. “That password doesn’t exist on our system”, sayeth the message. “Oh bugger”, thoughteth I, “must’ve typed it wrong”. But no – repeated tried later, it’s still knackered.
I finally got hold of ticketmaster on the phone, to be confronted with what can only be described as an idiot. “You must have an offer code, or I can’t enter it”. “There isn’t one on the email ticketmaster sent out, nor on the web-page”. “There must be – I can’t enter the offer without the code”. So forth, so fifth. Yes, another prize twunt-monkey employed by Twuntmaster.
Eventually, a supervisor comes on the line. “Yeah, the password was entered wrongly. We’re sorting it out now.”
And lo, job done – but surely it’s better to let the front-line frigmonkeys know that there’s a problem, rather than ending up with pissed-off customers, and complaints?
Mickey D’s
Posted: Fri 23 September, 2005 Filed under: Customer Services, Sweary, Thoughts 2 Comments »This one’s been brewing since last weekend – you have been warned!
Currently, there’s an advert on TV for McDonalds, telling everyone about their “great” new toasted deli sandwiches, “freshly prepared on the premises”. (In fact, it says it on the website too – “Did you know that our Deli sandwiches are freshly made on the spot?“) OK, all fair and good.
On the weekend, on our way down to Portsmouth/ Waterlooville, we ended up stopping at a McDonalds for the first time in ages. Now, Herself is vegetarian, which kind of limits the choices in a burger place, but all the same you don’t expect to be greeted with the response “Sorry, we don’t do veggie burgers any more, we only do these “Grilled Veggie Melt” sandwiches. Which, frankly, sucks – if you’re going to something like fucking McDonalds, you’re pretty likely to want a fucking burger, not some grilled sandwich with houmous, pitta bread, and chargrilled vegetables. It’s not rocket science, but apparently McDonalds (advised by those pious holier-than-thou cocksucker in the Vegetarian Society) have decided that vegetarians don’t want burgers, they want these godforsaken concoctions loaded with bland cheese and – having now tried one – no fucking taste whatsoever.
The secondary factor is that, for reasons known only to Herself, she doesn’t like courgette. Fair enough. These pox-arsed sandwiches are – let’s not forget – “prepared fresh on the spot”, so we can just ask for one without courgettes in, can’t we? Um, no. When they say “prepared fresh on the spot”, the bullshitting lying corporate tosswhores knows as McDonalds actually mean “we get in bags of pre-mixed vegetable concoction, and thaw it out in the morning. When you order it, we put the stuff together, which is how we can get away with calling it ‘prepared on the spot'”. So you’ve a) no choice, b) no options, and c) a diagram involving a canoe, a creek, and the exact directions to the nearest paddle-store, 100km away. Cunts.
Incompetence
Posted: Tue 20 September, 2005 Filed under: Customer Services, Sweary, Travel Leave a comment »Yesterday was almost amusing on the trains into work. Over the weekend, the line between Reading and Ascot was having engineering work done on it, so the train service was replaced by buses. Hey ho, all part of the joys of train travel – but at least it now affects me far less than it used to.
Monday morning and the local news (both BBC and ITV) were reporting that buses were still replacing trains, due to engineering work. OK, that slightly chuffs my morning travel, but thankfully not too much. Get to the station, the ticket machines have been turned off, and there’s a sheet of paper across each one saying that due to engineering works there’s no trains, and for some godforsaken reason known only to the train operating twats, you can only buy tickets from the ticket office itself. No good reason, it just must’ve seemed like a good idea at the time. Or something.
However, getting in to the ticket hall itself, there’s people waiting on the platforms. Eh? So when I get to the Ticket Twunt behind his little bulletproof glass shield, I ask where we’re supposed to be getting the bus from, and why are there people on the platforms? “Don’t know what you mean, mate – trains are running fine today” Turns out that the fuckwit cunts have a) forgotten to take the paper off the machines, b) turn the ticket machines on, and c) tell anyone that the train service is back to what passes for normal.
Still, it made my travel that little bit easier, not having to get a bus instead. But Jesus Christ, it’s really not that difficult to sort out, is it?
T minus 100
Posted: Fri 16 September, 2005 Filed under: Festering Season, Sweary 1 Comment »
There are days when I really hate Diamond Geezer. Today is one of those days, and for one good reason.
Yes, he’s revealed that there are now precisely 100 days ’til the Festering Season™. I’ve already seen the fucking neon house “decorations” going up for sale, along with poxy tinsel and general Festering stuff. I despair. Now, where’s my scrooge image? (UPDATED : – ah, there he is)