Angry Customer Services!!!!!

Disclaimer: All charecters in this post are FACTUAL. Any resemblance to any person is not a coincidence as it happened to me. I was there!


You have to love people who work on customer Service front. They have to be polite. They have to smile, even if you smell. They have to listen to your shit.
Well I think I found a renegade yesterday. A rebel.
I was at the airport. I went to pick up the Fat lady and she who must be obeyed!!!
Anyway we got there in time and stood around for an hour and a half at least waiting for them to come out. It’s always hell when us Sub Continentals travel. We have 25 people when we fly off and at least 16 when we come back. And most of them have moustaches. The women too.
Anyway all hell had broken loose. Sub continental kids running around, causing chaos and nausea....(that’s right cut them off right now...if you can’t control your litter.

A couple of gay people were standing around looking all nice. Smelling nice. Nails nicely trimmed. I ignored them.
So eventually our passengers come out and after "hey how you doing? you survived? Caught the sun? " we made our way to our conveyance....Well we tried to make our way. Because we couldn’t find the damn car. I ran this way and that way with my two little broken feet but to no avail.

Anyhoo we did find the car. After we tetris'd the entire luggage in we thought lets get the hell out of here. So we did. But first the little matter of paying for parking privileges.
So after spending what seemed like an eternity trying to get my card in and sliding my money into the little sliding in thing I wait...and wait...and wait. Nothing. Two options light up before me
..Receipt
..English.
Well English yeh because I can speak that not badly. And my parents didn’t really teaching me more than three languages. (oh and one made up language which relies heavily on the “F” and “N” syllable in every word.
Receipt? Well yeh ok whatever moves this along quicker.
Next thing I know the machine has charged me for 3 hours. Hell no. I press the little help button. I didn’t really expect anyone to answer. I mean who really sits there waiting for a button to be pushed so that they can “help” you. Imagine my surprise when someone…not a computer, with multiple options, answers and queries my problem.
I tell him.

He does math in his gentle and kind head and figures out that ive been there for only 1 and half our and not the stated 3. Well done Einstein. Phew. He then tells me that I have to go to somewhere to pick up my owed monies. And that he will phone ahead. He asks me name. I spell it out for him.(Note: the Identity of the rebel will now be revealed)

So I go to Currency Exchange center in Arrivals in Manchester Airport and meet a handsome fellow called Ian. I place myself infront of the “Closed Counter”. Ian asks me how he can help. I hold up my ticket and before I can say anything the phone rings. I smile and point to my ticket and mouth off “its probably about me” silently. Ian answers the phone. Listens patiently. I see his expression beginning to change. I think if he’s maybe finished for the night, locked up his till and is about to go home. Maybe that’s why he is getting angry.

The call finishes. Ian hangs up the phone by throwing it across his table. Ok here we go I think. As Ian is not by the microphone I can’t hear him but I see him use some explicit words for the callee. Good old Ian then remembers that he hasn’t asked how much I was owed. I tell him. He gives me money and I’m on my way. I look back and Ian is sweating profusely and very tense.

I wouldn’t want to be next person after me, he serves......