Pipe dreams
last word
50
and apoplexy
Ever feel like taking issue with the faceless
wonders at the other end of “official” phone
calls? Ever feel like losing it utterly and
irrevocably? Tony Preston’s your man.
Recently I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot of mail from someone called Ramon Gregory. Mr Gregory variously signs himself as “Executive Director Customer
Service and Sales” or “Customer Sales and Service”
of Telstra. He addresses me by name and as a “valued
customer” and evinces great concern about wanting me to
“keep in touch”.
Keeping in touch, as it turns out, is a bit of a one-way street
with Mr Gregory because in spite of imploring me to contact
him between 9am and 5pm AEST, when I call he is never
available. I’m not suggesting that he’s asleep at the wheel or
not busy signing letters to his many valued customers, it’s
just that his colleagues all consider him far too important to
be spoken with.
Water, water, everywhere
So it was that, while in this state, I had cause to ring Sydney
Water. It was indeed unfortunate for SW that they were on my
to-call list immediately after the Telstra phone-a-thon but I
had urgent business to discuss with them – my house had
flooded with effluent.
I explained to “Vikki” (SW names have been changed to
protect the guilty) that I needed to discuss the delicate
matter of a plastic bag full of poo-covered tree roots at the
behest of my plumber who believed that they had grown from
a Sydney Water main into my sewer line. Vikki then informed
me that Sydney Water “doesn’t own any pipes”.
I don’t usually employ profanity when confronted by
obtuse and obstructive service providers but I am regularly
overheard having a “robust exchange of views” with such
people. On this occasion the synapses simply fused and I
went ballistic, nuclear, incandescent with rage … ape-faeces
… apeshit!
I was transferred to “John” who had a copy of my sewerage
diagram. He finally conceded that that Sydney Water may
have pipes, or mains, but that roots only ever grow in one
direction – that is, from privately owned sewer lines into SW
mains. He then made implicitly threatening remarks about
the proximity of my plumber to his mains. His mains are off-limits to private plumbers it seems.
Well, I did assure him that my plumber had made no such
incursions and that within my limited understanding of
horticulture, I thought tree roots could grow in any direction
in their search for nourishment. In this case, as there were
no trees on my property which were likely culprits, then the
huge stand of Moreton Bay Figs on the far side of their pipe
might be to blame.
Impossible said “John”. F… you! I said and hung up.
www.bcme.com.au
The Telstra man who can’t take calls
By way of background, I should explain that the subject of our
(non) discussion was an offer to me from Telstra to take up a
new phone deal.
I’m now on first-name (is it a cost-saving measure that
all Telstra employees get only one name each?) terms with
countless of them – David, James, Daniel, Edward, Adam,
another James and more. Each of these is individually helpful
but none as it turns out is clairvoyant enough to intuit what
exactly Mr Gregory wants to discuss with me.
In normal circumstances you’d imagine
this would be pretty easily sorted
by simply transferring me to my
new friend Mr Gregory. But no.
Mr Gregory is a “Managing
Director” and therefore too
exalted to be disturbed with
trivial questions from valued
customers.
Well, I don’t care if he
believes he’s the next
Pope, if he writes to
me and requests a
return call then it’s
common courtesy
to accept that
call. I happen to be a
managing director too, albeit of a smaller
business than Mr Gregory’s, but I get the distinct impression
that Mr Gregory has concluded that some MDs’ time is worth
less than others, in this case – mine. And I’m still none the
wiser as to Mr G’s intentions. All of which tends to make me
apoplectic with rage.
Lucky you’re with … you know who
Altogether not a very edifying exchange and one I thought
must have terminally stalled the already less-than-diplomatic
request for assistance. Not so. A couple of days later our
section of street received its first Sydney Water visit in an
eon, informing us that we were about to
see works undertaken to inspect
and clear mains between our
house and the tree-lined
park opposite. So maybe
profanity does pay.
The upside of the
shitstorm that inundated
my ground floor was
the absolutely seamless
assistance given by AAMI. In the
midst of the downpour and just
as the ceiling was threatening
to collapse, I called AAMI and
spoke immediately to a woman
who was assigned as my case
officer. From then on I’ve
been contacted every few days
with follow-up calls, offers of
alternative accommodation if conditions were too unsanitary,
the arrival of a clean-up company, two builders and an
assessor, and already cheques have started arriving in the
mail. Telstra and Sydney Water and anyone else out there
who “values” their customers, take note. n
