Introducing the LTLP.

Posted on by Alex

The LTLP is waiting for me on my return from the market.

“I. Am. Really. Pissed. Off.”

I close the car door warily. This is not an encouraging phrase to hear, first thing on a Saturday and, more to the point, immediately after a visit to the hairdressers. Her hat is pulled down over her ears. We enter the house together.

“She. Has. Fucking. Ruined. It.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind races. On a purely selfish level, I am pissed off that the weekend looks like not being a fun one for me. Like a chess grandmaster, I try to work several moves in advance – is there any, any way that her getting a bad haircut could possibly be twisted to eventually become MY FAULT? I keep my face utterly neutral as I think, but I consider myself safe. I can’t be blamed for this.

I am also a bit weary at the drama-queen nature, as I know it’s not as bad as all that.

She removes her hat. It is as bad as all that. The highlights leap out from her haid with no degree of subtlety, and don’t quite meet in the middle, so she already has quarter-inch roots. She looks like a thirteen year old who’s been trying to doll herself up with her mum’s hair dye, in advance of going into King’s Lynn in order to hang around the shops with her kid.

AM I SMIRKING FOR GOD’S SAKE DON’T SMIRK

“Ummmm. You’re right. It’s disastrous.” What more could I say?

Later, we go into Lynn to buy hair dye. She keeps her hat on.

I write to Amazon

Posted on by Alex

I write a letter to Amazon.

It is not a stroppy letter, it is courteous and well-thought-out. Stroppy letters don’t work, and are written by pompous arses so they can smugly claim ‘that TOLD them!’ as they bore their golf club mates with the interminable story of their washing machine problem.

I used to work in a company that occasionally received stroppy letters, so I know what I’m talking about. There is an accepted procedure in UK business for dealing with them:

– Read through, roll eyes wearily
– Pass round to co-workers for shared amusement
– Make token attempt to solve problem
– Draft reply, thanking writer for stroppy letter. Deliberately misunderstand at least one of their points, and carefully phrase to make it obvious that you think they’re a small piece of dirt, without quite ever spelling it out. Give some nice customer satisfaction statistics that run counter to what the writer and everybody else knows to be true
– Conclude with annoying non-phrase, such as ‘assuring you of our best service at all times’
– File in big blue folder, marked ‘Funny Stroppy Letters’

I never did this, I hasten to add, and disapproved heartily. I just couldn’t quite work out what British business had against sending people straightforward replies, admitting things had gone wrong, etc. Viz:

Dear Mr Blah,

I was alarmed to receive your letter, and am very sorry to hear of your explosion.

This is the first we have heard of one of our products exploding, but clearly one is too many. Please accept our sincere apologies.

A cheque for £85 is attached, to cover repairs. Agreed, it seems only fair that we should pay for them, and let’s face it – it’s a pissy, derisory amount of money to a company like us. For some reason, my boss thinks that we should try every delaying, haggling tactic in the book to try to avoid giving you any recompense whatsoever, but that would seem like a waste of all our lives.

Please let me know immediately should you have any more queries.

As it’s the first and last time you’ll ever receive a straightforward letter like this, I know you’ll go around telling everybody that you had a small problem, but received absolutely great service in sorting it out. Therefore I look forward to you being a customer again.

Best wishes,

JonnyB.

I want to buy a CD

Posted on by Alex

I want to buy a CD. ‘Happiness from a Distant Star’ by Animals That Swim.

So I order in from Amazon. Limited availability, two in stock, one to two weeks blah blah blah.

It arrives. I open it. They haven’t sent me ‘Happiness from a Distant Star’ by Animals that Swim. They’ve sent me ‘Punchbag’ by The Bees. I didn’t want ‘Punchbag’ by The Bees. I wanted ‘Happiness from a Distant Star’ by Animals that Swim.

I have an old git moment. There could be no possible confusion between the two products. ‘Punchbag’ isn’t even a long-player.

I wrap it up again in the original packaging, working myself up into righteous anger. I take it to the post office and send it off. The post office is actually only three hundred yards from my home, but if it had been a long way away and if I were disabled then this would have been a real problem. I send Amazon an email.

Nothing happens for a couple of weeks. Then I notice that ‘Happiness from a Distant Star’ by Animals that Swim has reappeared against my outstanding orders, zero rated. They are sending me another, apparently.

The package arrives. I open it.

The box does not contain ‘Happiness from a Distant Star’ by Animals that Swim. It contains ‘Punchbag’ by The Bees.

Personal odour

Posted on by Alex

I think I smell of curry.

Found on Unlucky Friend’s dining table: millions of small bits of soggy paper. He had washed his driving license in his jeans pocket. We drank Guinness last night, and talked writing and music.

Listened to a rarities DVD by the Doves. The Doves are terrific – they’re what I wish Pink Floyd had turned in to. Talked more music, borrowed the DVD.

I’m sure I smell of curry.

Got home. Realised that I do not posess a DVD player. Read the liner notes.