Disconnected & disconcerted ...
It felt like a particularly painful sort of Groundhog Day. One minute, I was coasting along, enjoying the incoming spring, happy as Larry. The next, I was a tense and sweaty wreck, my blood pressure climbing higher than Sir Ed Hillary as I found myself once more in a familiar hell, with a big red sign over the entrance gates reading: Vodafone.
I arrived home last week after a few days in Auckland to find my home phone and internet had been disconnected. Again.
Some readers might remember me whining about a similar incident last year. I simply woke up one day, sauntered into my home office to start work, and discovered Vodafone had accidentally cancelled my landline, answerphone, email, and internet.
The next four days were spent hunched over my cellphone, almost weeping with frustration as I tried to get through to the company’s customer helpline which, given the epic waiting times, seemed so desperately understaffed, I imagined three people in crisp red Vodafone polo shirts taking turns in a public phone box in The Philippines.
Normally, pop music is my salve and my salvation during periods of high stress, but not this time.
Every time I called, I was tortured by the same few songs by Goldenhorse, Bic Runga, OpShop, and Crowded House on an endless loop.
As I waited an eternity for someone to pick up in Manila, Neil Finn sang ‘‘It’s only natural’’ into my ear morning, noon, and night. ‘‘You don’t have to worry about it’’. But I wasn’t worried so much as furious. So was Neil. After reading that column, Finn announced he’d be withholding his songs from being used as telephone hold music in future. Good man.
And I can confirm things have changed at Vodafone. They may still randomly terminate the services of paying customers, but at least they’ve updated their hold music.
When the company once again cut me off last week, it was Lorde they played to me over and over again, interspersed with the usual ‘‘Our contact centre is receiving a large number of calls; please hold’’ recorded message. ‘‘We’re on each other’s team’’, sang the mophaired poppet from Devonport, a song presumably chosen to give the impression Vodafone and client were BFFs, rather than faceless international corporation and deeply disgusted customer.
So I sat and I waited, and Lorde sang to me through those long, dark days. Eventually, I got through to an assortment of living, breathing humans in far-flung locations who had no idea why my service had been terminated and promised to ‘‘escalate my file’’.
After three days, service was suddenly resumed without explanation or apology, by which time I’d missed interviews and deadlines, chewed up several hundred bucks of mobile data, and wasted days on my cellphone.
And so, once I get through the mighty backlog of work their muck-up has caused, I’ll be ditching this internet provider.
Vodafone and I are most certainly NOT on each other’s team.
Eventually, I got through to an assortment of living, breathing humans in far-flung locations who ... promised to 'escalate my file'.