Saturday, June 30, 2012

B-card RIP

Nah, it was a piece of cake. I decided to try again. Deep breath and then call. I got an intelligible and coherent rep at last. She gave me two pieces of information that enabled me to log in. Good. So now I could see how much I owe, and so I filled in the box that asked me how much I wanted to pay. The lot, believe me, the whole fricking lot.
Ah, but how to pay? It asked me to set up a Direct Debit. Don't want to do that. What's the alternative? There isn't one. No reference anywhere to an alternative such as paying by cheque or making a BACS transfer. And the FAQ section is about as much use as tits on a bull.
So, I have to make another phonecall. This time I get Abdul the Bulbul, the one who talks English with a chapatti in his mouth. I am patient. I ask for the bank's sort code and account number. A the B is baffled. He then says his machine is slow and puts me on hold (Why do they think we need that tinny music while we wait?) In the end he comes back, gives me the wrong information, but fortunately corrects himself at the last moment.
There's no doubt about it, I am on the wrong planet, but at least I can now set fire to my Barclaycard before I catch the space shuttle to Aldebaran or wherever.

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