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Jul. 30th, 2008 04:30 pm
Heading out for my health and safety break at noon, Paul called me over. My imminent change of shift pattern has played havoc with a couple of shift swaps I agreed with people before deciding to make the switch. Early on Paul seemed ready to enter something on the system so I was about to tell him what to do next when he said "Hang on, I need to talk to Sue" and explained that everything had to go through her as his line manager.
"Sorry, I thought you were over Sue," I explained to Paul. Sue exclaimed with mock offence, and told me she was in charge of the clerical team. "I'll have to send an e-mail out to everybody - I'M IN CHARGE."
The business of sorting out which shifts I'd now work and when, and entering all the updated info on the system, gave Paul a headache, not helped by an old cancelled make-up shift for August still being on my schedule on his computer. Sue - just about - understood what was going on and we were finally sorted. Unfortunately, one result of my changing pattern is that I have to do an extra shift in the third week of August. That would have been fine if I hadn't yielded to Barry's pleading about the damn dress rehearsal and committed myself to doing that on the Wednesday. That leaves Saturday as the only extra shift I can work that week, meaning I have to miss Fisher away. Ah well, at least it wasn't a home game.
When it was all done, a weary Paul said "We don't want to see you again today. If you've got any more queries, leave them till tomorrow."
Today marks 10 working days since Vodafone said they'd refund my overpaid money to my bank account and, when I rang my bank, they still hadn't. So once again I rang Vodafone customer services. After several minutes of prevarication, the guy I spoke to finally confirmed that the overpayment had been refunded...to my bloody credit card. What's more, they didn't just refund the overpayment, they transferred the other £25 by which I was in credit to my credit card too, something I never asked them to do and that their man who e-mailed me didn't say they'd do.
My initial feeling of July 10 was right. Vodafone customer services are completely fucking useless twats who haven't got a clue what they're doing. As soon as my contract runs out next May, I'm gone.
"Sorry, I thought you were over Sue," I explained to Paul. Sue exclaimed with mock offence, and told me she was in charge of the clerical team. "I'll have to send an e-mail out to everybody - I'M IN CHARGE."
The business of sorting out which shifts I'd now work and when, and entering all the updated info on the system, gave Paul a headache, not helped by an old cancelled make-up shift for August still being on my schedule on his computer. Sue - just about - understood what was going on and we were finally sorted. Unfortunately, one result of my changing pattern is that I have to do an extra shift in the third week of August. That would have been fine if I hadn't yielded to Barry's pleading about the damn dress rehearsal and committed myself to doing that on the Wednesday. That leaves Saturday as the only extra shift I can work that week, meaning I have to miss Fisher away. Ah well, at least it wasn't a home game.
When it was all done, a weary Paul said "We don't want to see you again today. If you've got any more queries, leave them till tomorrow."
Today marks 10 working days since Vodafone said they'd refund my overpaid money to my bank account and, when I rang my bank, they still hadn't. So once again I rang Vodafone customer services. After several minutes of prevarication, the guy I spoke to finally confirmed that the overpayment had been refunded...to my bloody credit card. What's more, they didn't just refund the overpayment, they transferred the other £25 by which I was in credit to my credit card too, something I never asked them to do and that their man who e-mailed me didn't say they'd do.
My initial feeling of July 10 was right. Vodafone customer services are completely fucking useless twats who haven't got a clue what they're doing. As soon as my contract runs out next May, I'm gone.
