Curiously, I've had a problem with noisy phone lines for many years. Back when I was living with my folks, first using the family line then - when, in the days before broadband, my internet usage became too long and too frequent for that to be viable - on my own, personal, freshly installed line, and now in my own flat.
Even more curiously, every time it was queried with BT, they told me their checks indicated that there was no fault on the line.
Most recently, this last Tuesday, when the noise got so bad my internet connection actually failed repeatedly, I decided to give BT a call to see what could be done about it. Here's where the problems started.
Because BT - previously British Telecom(munications) - has an automated system which very reluctantly passes you on to a call centre... and the call centre seems to be in India*... and the operators there seem to have little knowledge of - or interest in - problems with telephone lines, if the automated tests read 'all clear'.
Actually, that may be a little unfair. The first time I called, the guy I spoke to was very helpful, and talked me through a few things that I could check myself, and that call ended with me feeling satisfied that the problem was within my master socket, and that using the test socket (effectively disconnecting the two branch sockets, one placed rather stupidly near the ceiling in the hall, one in the bedroom) would solve my problem. Hell, that guy even went so far as to recommend that I try to find a local engineer to replace my master socket, rather than calling out a BT engineer, which would end up costing me £130.
However, within minutes of hanging up, what had sounded like a completely clear line suddenly became very noisy again, so I had to go back through the automated system, back to the call centre... at which point I was passed on to the most disinterested operator I've ever had the displeasure of speaking with. Even when I put the speaker of my landline up to the mouthpiece of my cellphone, she still couldn't accept that there was a problem with my line, and even suggested I go out and buy a new telephone handset to test the line.
Eventually, after she had very strongly implied that I would be paying the £130 fine (OK, fee) for calling out an engineer when the fault was with 'my equipment', she arranged for an engineer to come out today (as I write)... which meant three days without an effective landline or broadband connection.
Just to add to the fun during this time, my girlfriend had her bags mistakenly removed from their resting place at a college event over last weekend, meaning she was without her keys, wallet and, most crucially, her credit card... and her cellphone ran out of credit a day or two later. After I'd replaced her Oyster and added some credit to that, we'd got to the point of discussing my adding credit to her cellphone account... and suddenly that wasn't an option. I'd wager no-one feels comfortable knowing that their significant other has no easy means of contacting anyone in an emergency...
Thankfully, it seems there are ways of adding credit to one's cellphone via PayPal, so she didn't have to resort to asking her parents to log in to her account online, and one of her bags - the one containing her wallet and most of the important stuff - was eventually returned. She even has a replacement Young Person's Railcard, so we're all set to travel to a family party at the weekend.
As I write, my phone line is a work in progress. Having been told by the BT callcentre that there was no problem on my line, I half expected the line to be magically clear when the engineer arrived. Thankfully, it was not... and his very first test of the line came back "very bad". He spent a while checking the master socket, then a small junction box between it and the front door, before heading outside to check the - frankly perilous-looking - external wiring.
Just over an hour into his visit, he reported that the wire between my door and the main junction box on the outside wall was the problem and that, having cut the wire right outside my front door for one final test, he would begin the "very dangerous" job of replacing it.
After another few minutes, and a call to request another engineer for backup, he asked me to assist by grabbing on to one end of the new wire as he fed it up from the first floor roof. The other end had to dangle - somewhat precariously - down the side of the building to the main junction box servicing all the flats.
What's rather cool is that the new wire is being fitted properly - run along a wall with clips nailed in at regular intervals - rather than being draped across the roof of the stairwell like the rest of them. How they're going to tackle running it down the rear wall I'm not certain... but it's been tied to one group of wires just below the stairwell roof.
When it came to flowing the new wiring into my flat, the original engineer had forgotten his drill, and the second engineer only had a drill with a two metre bit, so they elected to add a new junction box outside the door. Around the 2-hour mark, the original engineer described it as "the wrong fucking job to start the day".
In total, the job took almost exactly three hours, by which time I had a new faceplate on my master socket, a new junction box outside my front door and a new cable trailing down the side of the building to the main junction box. I've been astounded by how much faster my broadband seems... though it's still not perfect, leading me to believe that there's definitely a software - or malware - problem that hasn't been picked up yet.
* There's an argument for the efficiency and cost-effectiveness of outsourced, overseas call centres... but, personally, I feel that they are part of the problem with the UK economy: people in the UK aren't employed in these call centres, so that's a good proportion of UK income not coming from jobs serving the UK... and therefore a good proportion of UK spending not coming as a result of that employment. So many big companies are so focussed on saving money and improving their own profits, they don't seem to understand that their short-term (and even semi-long-term) gain is contributing to the general economic strife which will eventually utterly hammer their profits. All that said, it's been my abiding impression that the standard of English in an Indian call centre is often better than it is in UK-based call centres.
Friday 28 February 2014
Tuesday 18 February 2014
Not The Traditional New Year Post
OK, so I'm a completely crap blogger... Very nearly two full months since my last post, because I've been fairly busy since Christmas (all of which will be explained in another post, whenever I feel like writing it) and generally just not feeling like blogging.
Part of the problem was that there's rather too much to write about in one post, and even thinking about it proved rather daunting. However, now I'm going to follow the advice of my amazing girlfriend - my better half in so many ways - and focus on the question "what do I want/need to write about right now?"
As it turns out, that would be the weird dreams I've been having so far this year. They've been few and far between - only three over the last couple of months - but they have been pretty trippy.
The first - sometime over the Christmas/New Year period - appeared to place me in a group of spies, infiltrating a Nazi base where some kinds of (rocket?) experiments were taking place. The base was concealed in a woodland, and I arrive by truck, in a mixed company of genuine Nazis and spies. One of the other spies and I disabled the base's security systems - concealed within what appeared to be just one of many trees in the forest - while one of the genuine Nazis quibbled our right to enter the base with the guards. By the time the discussion was concluded - in our favour - the gates were opening in such a way as to fool the guards into thinking they'd opened upon normal clearance.
Once inside, we were led to what I can only describe as a 'classroom' with wood panel walls... that is, from the inside, it almost looked like we were inside a wooden shack, though it was actually a concrete bunker of sorts. This was to be where we would observe the experiment via a large video screen on one wall... though the dream didn't actually get that far.
Almost at once, one of the Nazis started causing trouble, ranting that the woman running the project "had obviously seduced the General" who commanded the base. During a tussle, he secretly handed me a note, outing himself as one of the spies (so, clearly, we couldn't be sure who among the Nazis was actually on our side...), then he and his entourage were led outside, enabling the remaining team - all spies and saboteurs - to get safely to work.
While we worked, the woman running the project reprimanded one of the saboteurs for speaking (German) with an English accent - "Next time, wear your Union Jack pin!" - revealing that she, too, was secretly working against the Nazis (so the argument which got the guards, etc.. out of our way was a double-bluff: she had got the gig by seducing the General!).
We had to switch off the lights at several points around the room - the switches didn't correspond with light fittings in a particularly logical way - to enable us to see the video screen properly. I had to stand on a chair to get the last two switches, but then woke up before the story could progress any further...
Then I had a very weird dream on the Sunday night/Monday morning before beginning my third week at my first job of the year... It featured several folks from the office, but in the context of an open-air cooking competition, in which the boss (of the department I had been working in) was trying everything she could think of to convince the judges that my cooking was awful. I don't recall much about it anymore - having failed to take notes on the way to work that morning in favour of reading - but it got quite vicious. Basically, she seemed to pantomime sampling my dishes, then spat it all out, complaining it was disgusting.
I guess the 'rationale' behind that dream - if one can suggest a rationale might exist for something as ephemeral as a dream - is that the department boss had made mention of having appeared on Masterchef, which everyone else chose not to believe since she's full of tall tales and self-aggrandisement. There's also the fact that, when I interviewed for the permanent position I was covering, I was told I was "the strongest candidate" they'd seen, and I got on very well with the team, yet the department boss chose not to hire me.
But that's another blog post ;)
The most recent example, from last night, began as a riff on Game of Thrones (which I've still not seen more than two or three episodes of), where I was planting crops of some kind while Tyrion argued with someone or other I couldn't see. I don't remember what I was planting initially but, when I moved on to a steep bank around a wide, flat, built-upon area, I decided that a good thing to plant was a kind of corn-like crop which produced sugar (it had a name, but I've forgotten it!). I dropped seeds in neat-ish rows, working from the bottom to the top of the incline, until I found that the top had already been planted with a row of quite tall saplings.
Then the weirdness happened, because the seeds I'd just planted all became dark maggots... and they started flooding toward one end of the bank. They congregated at that end for a while because the inclined bank was just cut off, leading to a sheer drop to the ground from any point up the slope. Eventually, either by choice or by being nudged by the seething horde behind them, the maggots started to drop off. Once on the flat ground, they started to surge forward again... toward... a door.
Because, naturally, the slope had become the sofa in my parents' lounge, and they were all heading for the hall of their house. Jumping ahead of them, I saw another, similar-yet-different seething dark mass on the staircase... but these were small beetles, and they were all coming down the stairs.
Where the two swarms drew close to one another, a curved, winding 'no man's land' developed, running the length of the hall. My mother rushed out of the kitchen and started tidying up the lounge - the sofa's cushions were covered with neat rows of maggot faeces, after all - and I followed her example, taking the hoover round the carpet, considering just vacuuming up all the maggots and beetles, but waking up before that actually happened.
So... that's 'Dreams' out of the way. Still to come, we have 'Christmas/New Year', 'Recent Television' and, of course a bit of ranting about 'Work'. I'm only working two days this week (of which yesterday was one), so I should be able to make a bit of headway...
Part of the problem was that there's rather too much to write about in one post, and even thinking about it proved rather daunting. However, now I'm going to follow the advice of my amazing girlfriend - my better half in so many ways - and focus on the question "what do I want/need to write about right now?"
As it turns out, that would be the weird dreams I've been having so far this year. They've been few and far between - only three over the last couple of months - but they have been pretty trippy.
The first - sometime over the Christmas/New Year period - appeared to place me in a group of spies, infiltrating a Nazi base where some kinds of (rocket?) experiments were taking place. The base was concealed in a woodland, and I arrive by truck, in a mixed company of genuine Nazis and spies. One of the other spies and I disabled the base's security systems - concealed within what appeared to be just one of many trees in the forest - while one of the genuine Nazis quibbled our right to enter the base with the guards. By the time the discussion was concluded - in our favour - the gates were opening in such a way as to fool the guards into thinking they'd opened upon normal clearance.
Once inside, we were led to what I can only describe as a 'classroom' with wood panel walls... that is, from the inside, it almost looked like we were inside a wooden shack, though it was actually a concrete bunker of sorts. This was to be where we would observe the experiment via a large video screen on one wall... though the dream didn't actually get that far.
Almost at once, one of the Nazis started causing trouble, ranting that the woman running the project "had obviously seduced the General" who commanded the base. During a tussle, he secretly handed me a note, outing himself as one of the spies (so, clearly, we couldn't be sure who among the Nazis was actually on our side...), then he and his entourage were led outside, enabling the remaining team - all spies and saboteurs - to get safely to work.
While we worked, the woman running the project reprimanded one of the saboteurs for speaking (German) with an English accent - "Next time, wear your Union Jack pin!" - revealing that she, too, was secretly working against the Nazis (so the argument which got the guards, etc.. out of our way was a double-bluff: she had got the gig by seducing the General!).
We had to switch off the lights at several points around the room - the switches didn't correspond with light fittings in a particularly logical way - to enable us to see the video screen properly. I had to stand on a chair to get the last two switches, but then woke up before the story could progress any further...
Then I had a very weird dream on the Sunday night/Monday morning before beginning my third week at my first job of the year... It featured several folks from the office, but in the context of an open-air cooking competition, in which the boss (of the department I had been working in) was trying everything she could think of to convince the judges that my cooking was awful. I don't recall much about it anymore - having failed to take notes on the way to work that morning in favour of reading - but it got quite vicious. Basically, she seemed to pantomime sampling my dishes, then spat it all out, complaining it was disgusting.
I guess the 'rationale' behind that dream - if one can suggest a rationale might exist for something as ephemeral as a dream - is that the department boss had made mention of having appeared on Masterchef, which everyone else chose not to believe since she's full of tall tales and self-aggrandisement. There's also the fact that, when I interviewed for the permanent position I was covering, I was told I was "the strongest candidate" they'd seen, and I got on very well with the team, yet the department boss chose not to hire me.
But that's another blog post ;)
The most recent example, from last night, began as a riff on Game of Thrones (which I've still not seen more than two or three episodes of), where I was planting crops of some kind while Tyrion argued with someone or other I couldn't see. I don't remember what I was planting initially but, when I moved on to a steep bank around a wide, flat, built-upon area, I decided that a good thing to plant was a kind of corn-like crop which produced sugar (it had a name, but I've forgotten it!). I dropped seeds in neat-ish rows, working from the bottom to the top of the incline, until I found that the top had already been planted with a row of quite tall saplings.
Then the weirdness happened, because the seeds I'd just planted all became dark maggots... and they started flooding toward one end of the bank. They congregated at that end for a while because the inclined bank was just cut off, leading to a sheer drop to the ground from any point up the slope. Eventually, either by choice or by being nudged by the seething horde behind them, the maggots started to drop off. Once on the flat ground, they started to surge forward again... toward... a door.
Because, naturally, the slope had become the sofa in my parents' lounge, and they were all heading for the hall of their house. Jumping ahead of them, I saw another, similar-yet-different seething dark mass on the staircase... but these were small beetles, and they were all coming down the stairs.
Where the two swarms drew close to one another, a curved, winding 'no man's land' developed, running the length of the hall. My mother rushed out of the kitchen and started tidying up the lounge - the sofa's cushions were covered with neat rows of maggot faeces, after all - and I followed her example, taking the hoover round the carpet, considering just vacuuming up all the maggots and beetles, but waking up before that actually happened.
So... that's 'Dreams' out of the way. Still to come, we have 'Christmas/New Year', 'Recent Television' and, of course a bit of ranting about 'Work'. I'm only working two days this week (of which yesterday was one), so I should be able to make a bit of headway...
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