Update: As of 17/02/10 my phone and internet are both working very well, in fact the sandwich box is really fast. No truly, I do not jest, I think it has the edge on BT’s router, who’d have thunk it. A big thank you to Talk Talk customer service, especially the man who spent all day outside my house – in the rain – repairing whatever was malfunctioning in the thingummy that everything connects to. (Note my use of technical terms)

In my last post I sent out a request for interview subjects. Thanks to everyone who responded, I was quite surprised so many people took me up on it. I think I have enough people now, and from quite a range of backgrounds so the interviews should be interesting.

In other news: I’m still having trouble with my new isp – Talk Talk in case anyone is thinking of using them – so, as I can’t phone them here are my thoughts about their service on the off chance that someone from the company happens upon this blog.

Dear Talk Talk,

I recently became your customer. Lured by your low prices and promises of excellent service, I signed up and duly received a package from you containing all that I would need to avail myself of your wonders. However, upon opening said package I was a little perplexed when I discovered that instead of a router, you had sent me what appeared to be a sandwich box. Really Talk Talk, I think you’ve been misled by your suppliers because what they are sending you in a box marked ‘router’, is actually an item from the Tupperware catalogue. I understand all this technological stuff can be confusing, so here’s how you tell the difference:

A router is a piece of telecommunications equipment designed to access the internet and various telephony services; a sandwich box is a white, plastic container designed for holding a packed lunch, they can not be used to access the internet. If you think about it I’m sure you’ll see there is a difference.

Anyhow, assuming you must be right and sandwich boxes are internet compatible, I set it all up, but nothing happened. (Of course it didn’t, Tupperware don’t do broadband). Not only did I not have an internet connection, your sandwich box insisted I had no computer. This is odd, because I do have a computer, I bought it in November, I still have the receipt, and unlike your sandwich box, it is actually what it is supposed to be. In other words, it is a computer, and it does computery things, such as: connecting to the internet, but obviously not when a sandwich box is attached to it.

At this point I was more than a little frustrated, so I decided to phone your customer service line to ask for assistance, but it seems you don’t understand the concept of telephones either. I say this because when I plugged my phone in, there was no dial tone, and no, it’s not my phone Talk Talk, I tried three others and they didn’t work either. Maybe, they aren’t real phones and (like my computer) only exist in my (apparently) hallucinatory mind.

Once again I shall explain how things should be: a telephone is used to hold conversations with people who are in other locations. The user dials a number, and then speaks into the receiver and the person on the other end of the line can hear their voice no matter where they are. Heck, you can even speak to people in other countries, how cool is that?! You really should look into this Talk Talk, I hear it’s becoming very popular, people would pay you to offer such a service. Hang on a minute – they already are!

Finally after nearly three days of tweaking and twiddling, the sandwich box sparked into life (who knew) but only on my son’s computer – it still insists mine is a figment of my imagination. Using my wireless card I am able to access the internet, occasionally, but often only at speeds of 6k a second – sub dial-up speed, very retro.

Anyhoo Talk Talk, there I am with no phone and intermittent internet, but guess what happens next? It’s ok, don’t think too hard, I’ll tell you. One of your door-to-door salesmen pops round to ask me if I’d like to sign up. Oh what a bunch of practical jokers you are, you little tinkers you. I informed him as politely as I could that I had already signed up, but found your service unusable. His response? “Oh, it shouldn’t be like that.” No? Really? I thought it was quite normal to pay a monthly fee for, well, practically nothing. You must be recruiting in the top universities to find reason and deduction of that quality.

To sum up: After experiencing your service (I use that term loosely) for over a week I can’t wait to get back to BT. Yes, they do charge nearly four times as much, but I, the customer, get something in return. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Of course, not having a phone is something of an impediment to my plan, but fear not, I shall find a way around that Talk Talk, I’m very resourceful.

Could you do anything to make me stay? Possibly – you could try sending me an actual router that actually connects to the internet, all the time not just now and again; you could drop this months bill (or I could just cancel the direct debit, whatever), oh, and one of your laptops might be nice too. But, as you’ll probably never read this, and won’t care if you do, it looks like I’ll be bidding you adieu. I’m sorry if that hurts, but I’m starting to suspect this is a relationship that will never work. You promise me the earth, but give me nothing; you try to imply I’m delusional (I do so have a computer!) and not only won’t you talk to me, but you refuse to let me speak to other people – I used to have a boyfriend like that, I dumped him too.

yours regretfully,

Kate

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