Oh lord, BT and their call centre! At our old house our internet constantly dropped out, sometimes for a couple of days at a time. Given that we lived practically on top of one of the local servers we were supposed to have brilliant internet.
After the longest internet-less stint of a Friday to Monday I made the mistake of calling their call-centre. Some of the high points of the 54 minute conversation:
No I will not get a screwdriver and remove the socket.
No, I am really not going to do that.
Let's just imagine I don't have any screwdrivers in the house and move onto the next part of the script.
OK, fine. I don't know how what a screwdriver is. I am that stupid. Please now move on to the part of your script dealing with really stupid people because that is me.
Yes, I have turned it off and on again.
Yes, that is my baby crying. No it is not funny. Why are you laughing?
(47 minutes into the conversation). NO! I am not in bloody Northern Ireland! What part of the 0208 dialling code are you not noticing? If you think I am in Northern Ireland that might bloody well explain why I have no broadband - you are clearly sending it to the wrong bloody country!
After this particularly fun experience we did in fact establish that there was a fault with the local server. This did not stop them ringing me back for another stint the next day:
Hello, KFP, are you near your computer?
No, I am on a train.
So you are at home then.
No, I don't live on the train. Do you?
Arses!