These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

Can I confirm ... ?



I was looking after household business and called British Gas to ensure that I was getting the best deal possible for my fuel supplies. The woman on the other end of the line, Sarah, sounded as pleasant as anyone can when they are reading from a script that does not allow for individual personalities to shine through.

But then I got all pedantic with her, this Sarah person, in her guise as a customer service representative. She started trying to gain information by stealth: she was misusing – as far as I was concerned – the word ‘confirm’.

Sarah: Can I confirm your date of birth?

Me: (automatically responding) It’s 25th ... hold on a minute, I don’t think you have it anyway, so how can you get me to confirm it.

Sarah: (Flustered sounds are heard – I’m suspect she was flipping the pages of her script for the next option.) OK. Can I conform your telephone number and email address?

Me: I haven’t shared either of those things with you before so how can I confirm them with you?

Sarah: We just need extra information to verify your identity.

Me: Why didn’t you just ask me for it then, instead of asking for confirmation of something that has never been stated? You can’t confirm something that is not known. You are misusing the word confirm in an attempt to get information without being clear about precisely what you are doing. I think that’s wrong.

Sarah: OK. Ms Morgan. I just need some additional information from you before I can help you with whatever you have called up about this morning. It’s a system requirement.

At this point I already know she’s not going to be very helpful to me in the rest of the call, but I decide to carry on regardless.

Me: I will give you my email address and phone number, however, I will not give you my date of birth. That’s something I don’t think you really need to know.

Sarah: (icily) Thank you, Ms Morgan.

Strangely, after this interaction, the deal I called up about had just finished because of ‘limited availability’ so Sarah was unable to guarantee me a lower fixed price deal for the next few years.

I am left with wondering if my pedantic response to her script conversation will cost me dearly this winter? 

Shall I call her back to confirm this is the case?

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

Mansized Tissues


Kleenex make Mansize Tissues. I’ve been using a lot of them lately. As I looked at the new box I’d just opened I wondered what is Mansized about them and is there a woman-sized alternative?

Yes, this is what my brain is reduced to thinking about while I lay suffering: the naming and sizing of tissues!

I decided to investigate further mansized items to see if I could get any sense of a correlation between the mansized tissues and the non-existent woman-sized alternative (well, it may exist but it is not named as woman-sized).

Google reveals the following mansize options:

  • Mansize Menswear – a Canadian shops that specialises in ‘fine apparel for men of an above average stature’.
  • Man size boys t-shirts aka fat (advertised as “seriously cool”).
  • A shop in Manchester, England provides ‘exclusive clothing for the larger man, with the unique Mansize range’.
  • Mansize Rooster – song by Supergrass (no mention in the lyrics of a rooster or anything mansized)
  • Mansized target – for army shooting practice (can you hit one at 400 yards?)
  • “I’m man-sized no need to shout” – Man-sized lyrics from PJ Harvey
  • Mansized.co.uk an online lifestyle website ... perhaps the Italian Prime Minister should join, then they can all see whose is bigger. Foot-in-the-mouth “joke” I mean.

The Mansize tissues that I’ve been using are soft and comfortable and gentle on your nose. They are also big enough so you don’t have to use many each time you sneeze. Mansized tissues are not just for men!

Men always need ... so much more than anything found in a neat cardboard box.

[Aside ... I wonder what size egos come in, or pride, or rage, or dominance, or antagonism for that matter? I may as well check out portions of mansized aggression, courage, and force while I’m here.

That’ll be over there on the top shelf I think. I’ll just get a man to get that for you madam.]


(Apologies to anyone offended by my flu-induced ranting ... well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.)

I may just have to revert to my neat, lady-sized, pocket tissues after today. It’s been a painful journey.


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