Support This, Why Don’t Ya?
Let me have a whine here. Uncharacteristic I know, but it’ll make me feel more productive and serve you better in the long run. Yes it will.
You see it’s almost half-five in the morning here in the balmy midwest and for two and a half hours I have been trying to log on on to my stuff so I can offer you a painting or two for sale. Ya know, special offer, Irish KC readers, that sort of business.
Two and a half hours ago you were walking into your offices in Ireland, with cups of tea if that’s what you call warm water poured over a grouping of tea leaves where no infusion takes place. Except for those who drink all that funny coffee business.
And the first thing you would have seen would have been one or two paintings I’m ready to part with for silly amounts of money. That’s the kind of man I am.
Finally, and very reluctantly for I’ve been here before, I resort to the ’support’ people. I know they have their procedures but don’t you think I might well have considered I wasn’t attempting to login from the right page myself? Or that I might have checked my username and password myself? Before going to support?
These are the circles we go around in every time usually ending in them telling me that I’m probably mis-typing my password. Brilliant! That never ocurred to me. And yet here I sit unable to login still.
My favourite bit is where the online chat turns into a monologue. Unfortunately, by myself which isn’t very supportive and doesn’t really fix my problem. Maybe I’m being unfair and my support agent wasn’t delberately ignoring me like a barman in Kennedy’s but had in fact choked to death on an expensive coffee for which there were no procedures for continuing the chat.
So I don’t care if service comes back later, even if it’s on time for those of you arriving into work in America. I’m treating you all equally, so no paintings of Ireland today. We’ll try again to throw paintings at you tomorrow.
Meanwhile I’m going to make a fresh pot of tea and to paint. And I’m going outside to photograph whatever is left of my igloo. What are you doing?
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
