Agony of hanging on the telephone

“I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat it, please?”

Sensing my blood pressure reading was poised to leap off the chart, I repeated the name, this time in a dangerously low voice.

This time, it worked. “OK,” he said cheerfully. But then he asked me to specify the film, and when he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that” again I knew immediately there was no point in prolonging the conversation. As I hung up I swore I heard him say, under his breath: “Bloody Jocks who can’t speak properly.”

Automated switchboards are one of the banes of modern life, but few of us have gone as far as Nigel Clarke. A few years ago he rang his insurance company with what he thought was a simple query. He was met by a succession of pre-recorded voices.

After wearily making his way through six menus with 76 different options, he finally reached the department where – perhaps naively – he thought his query might finally be dealt with.

“Sorry,” said the seventh prerecorded voice. “This department is now closed. Please try again tomorrow.” The line went dead. “I felt like crying,” Nigel recalls.

He has now launched a consumerfriendly website, www.pleasepress1. com, which lists shortcuts that guide you through the phone menus of 130 leading companies. He reckons he has made 12,000 research calls to automated phone centres over the years.

“To my face,” he says, “friends and family have been very supportive, but behind my back you do get the impression they sometimes wonder if I’ve been smoking something.”

Not me. I think guys like Nigel should be encouraged.

I look at his website. No cinemas. I think of ringing him, but am deterred by the thought of him saying: “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that ...”