Blog Archives

Correspondence #10: Hitachi Personal Finance

Mrs Tomlinson

Mrs Tomlinson starring Justin Hoffman and Jan Bancroft.

 

Ages and ages and ages ago I apparently took out a loan to pay for some sort of expensive item that, to this day, still has me completely baffled as to what it was. You can’t buy drugs with a loan, nor can you order the assassination of someone, therefore my guess is as good as yours as to what it could have been as there’s nothing much else that really piques my interest.

Today I was contacted by the company who loaned me the money and they asked why I hadn’t paid anything towards it for a couple of hundred months. Usually my stock response would be ‘because I don’t want to’ and then leave it to the bailiffs but fortunately the lady who I was corresponding with politely addressed herself as Mrs Tomlinson which I thought was reassuringly novel to be so archaically formal in such a brutally modern world.

So we exchanged emails and she resolved the matter at hand. Unfortunately she bluntly refused to refer to me as my preferred moniker (as you’ll see below) on future correspondence so despite the positive outcome of the exchange it did leave something of a bitter taste in my mouth. 

 

Message from HCCF EA Queries
10:49 AM

to me

Mr Peet

Please call Hitachi on 0344 375 5488 quoting ref 026%£&^91

Thank you

Hitachi Capital UK Ltd
2 Apex View
Leeds
LS11 9BH

Registered in Cardiff no. 1630491
Registered Office: Hitachi Capital House, Thorpe Road, Staines-upon-Thames, Surrey, TW18 3HP

Chris James Peet

11:07 AM
to HCCF

Dear Hititchy,

Many thanks for your friendly email.

Unfortunately I do not have an active telephone communication device due to the impending rise of the machines and subsequent enslavement by our AI superiors. I’ve seen Terminator 3 twice and I appreciated its message so this is just me being extra careful and staying off the grid like Jim Connor, future leader of the French resistance.

Please advise what it was you would like me to talk to you about. I enjoy sleeping, dancing around the living room to pop music and chatting on my telephone so my tastes are broad and varied.

Kind regards,

Chris

HCCF EA Queries

12:14 PM
to me

Mr Chris Peet,

Thank you for your email.

Please be advised your account is currently overdue for £214.16.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Mrs Tomlinson
Senior Collections Agent

Chris James Peet

1:57 PM
to HCCF
Dear Mrs Tomlinson,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

Unfortunately, due to a breach in the Skynet mainframe towards the back end of last year, my bank account details were put in jeopardy and my entire life savings of -£33.50 were left exposed to potential hackers. I was then advised by the Resistance hierarchy to cancel and remove all standing orders and direct debits until such time it was safe to presume I had money in the account and they could be reactivated.

I explained all this to one of your T-600 model customer service advisers but due to their below par programming, poor Neuronet processor and penchant for playing Angry Birds instead of listening to what I was saying, the particular model I was corresponding with informed me to just restart the direct debit at my earliest convenience then hung up. Unfortunately I thought I was on hold and stayed holding the handpiece to my ear for the next three hours.

When I finally realised no-one was there and my ear had stopped tingling, I discovered much to my dismay upon doing my banking that this defective model had taken my bank account details, set up the direct debit himself and withdrew a payment from my account, knocking the account overdrawn and incurring charges to it totaling £60. Due to this malfunctioning system, I spent the following few days incurring additional telephone charges and tingling ears attempting to get the bank charges refunded to me. Sadly, my mission failed and I was left in severe debt due to the poor customer service skills, breach of data protection and borderline fraud that I experienced at the hands of your faulty T-600 CSA.

With this in mind, and by way of recompense, please accept my acceptance of your future offer to void the £214 still left to pay on the account. I used Skynet’s Time Displacement Equipment to check you were going to do this.

I trust this settles the matter.

Chris

HCCF EA Queries

4:25 PM (1 hour ago)
to me

Mr Chris Peet,

Thank you for your prompt reply.

I have looked into the matter and can confirm on 14 October 2016 you did provide us with a new address however, unfortunately, the agent you spoke with did not update this on your file. Please note, I have now amended our records to show your address as 1 F******** ****, D*****, D** ***.’ Please can you clarify this is correct.

Taking the above into consideration, I have removed all charges totalling £125. Please accept my sincere apology for any inconvenience this has caused and by way of compensating you,  I have issued your account with a credit for £50. With this in mind, the left outstanding is £39.16.

In relation to your comments regarding the customer service,  please advise by return if you would like me to open a complaint on your behalf.

Regards,Mrs Tomlinson
Senior Collections Agent

Chris James Peet

5:12 PM
to HCCF

Dear Mrs Tomlinson,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

I appreciate you looking into this matter, especially under such circumstances of having to deal with a faulty T-600 unit who not only failed to update my account with the relevant information, but presumably also gave you the false information regarding my address as the house number is completely incorrect. I suspect he is a double agent like Agent Sanderson out of that Keanu Reeves movie, The Scalextrix.

Though you have the street name and town correct, my house number is actually 75. Or should I say WAS 75. I don’t live at that residence any more as it’s been taken over by dark forces the likes of which you couldn’t even imagine. But I won’t bore you with my own personal drama as I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it. As it is, my address is now ** R*** ****, D*****, *** ***. Please forward all correspondence to this address marked for the attention of Batman.

Please allow me 21 days to clear the outstanding debt of £39.16 as I that’s when I’m due a lottery win or my wage manages to make it into my account, whichever comes first. Probably the former.

Kind regards,

Chris

 

HCCF EA Queries

5:25 PM
to me

Mr Chris Peet,

Thank you for your response and your understanding in this matter.

I can confirm I have updated your address and have sent confirmation of this in writing. Please be advised, all correspondence will be address to ‘Mr Chris Peet’, and not ‘Batman’.

As requested, I will put your account on hold until 31 January 2017 to allow you sufficient time for you to pay the outstanding balance of £39.16. Please note, you can make payments online by visiting us at my.hpf.co.uk or by calling us on 0344 375 5488 and making payment over the phone using a credit / debit card.  I trust this is satisfactory however please do not hesitate to contact me if I can be of further assistance.

Regards,

Mrs Tomlinson
Senior Collections Agent

Chris Peet

6.01PM
to HCCF

Here’s to you, Mrs Tomlinson…

To infinity and beyond!

To infinity and beyond!

The Truth About Parenting

Fatherhood: easy.

Fatherhood: easy.

I’ve been the parent of small offspring – a boy named Finn – for nearly 3 months now, and here’s a little titbit of advice and information for all human beings who have ruined their lives, or will end up ruining their lives – accidentally or otherwise – in the near future: parenting is fucking easy. At this stage at least. There isn’t a sodding thing about looking after a new-born baby in the first few months that should cause a functioning, fully-evolved homosapien to whinge to their mates that being a parent is hard work. It fucking isn’t. It’s piss easy.

Allow me to explain: there’s a myriad of issues to contend with where a newborn is concerned, all involving your offspring screaming at you. Where Laura sometimes finds Finn’s high pitched yodelling utterly oppressive, I find myself feeling quietly proud that our boy can sing a bit. The problem, of course, is figuring out why he’s crying, and how to remedy it. That’s the upsetting part: knowing he’s not happy about something. But, fuck, it isn’t difficult. Apart from a problem that may require medical attention, there’s basically a standard list of reasons why your offspring is whinging. Is he windy? Burp him. Does he need his nappy changed? Clean that shit up. Is he hungry? Get your tits out. Once you’ve figured out what it is, more often than not the little sod will shut his gob. Unless he has reflux or can’t have a shit for some reason. Both of these things our son has. At the minute he chokes himself out when he’s trying to back one out. It’s a harrowing scene. I know how I get when I can’t shit so Christ knows how this little blighter is feeling given that he doesn’t have a sodding clue what’s going on. I just let him squeeze my finger and pull that face the Incredible Hulk pulls when he turns into the Incredible Hulk.

Of course, this parenting lark can be frustrating and utterly bewildering. But so is going for a shit and realising there’s no bog roll left. Ultimately you just get on with it and fashion some shit wipes out of a flannel, the cardboard inner from the toilet roll, or your hand. You muddle through and deal with it. You can call parenting a great many things: loud, tiring, smelly, annoying, completely shit. But it isn’t difficult. What’s difficult is waking up in the morning and realising you’ve woken up. What’s difficult is learning to drive when you’re thick as pig shit. What’s difficult is going into work every day doing your utmost to not end up as one of those, ‘and then he turned the gun on himself’ kind of people. What’s not difficult is feeding, changing and entertaining your new born son or daughter. Granted, it kind of exhausts you which makes you moan a bit. But so does skulling nine pints while watching your beloved football team ship four goals every week. It tires you the fuck out but you do it anyway because you have to.

 

Father 2

I used to love getting pissed with my dad when I was 10

Which brings me on to the first of the two truths to this article –

Truth #1: parenting is easy. That’s been established. What isn’t easy – what’s excruciatingly difficult – is other. fucking. people. Don’t get me wrong, people mean well: they want to help, they want to visit, they want to buy your offspring clothes, they want to hold him for half an hour so you can go for a shit. Which is all great. The difficulty is trying to appease everyone’s sense of entitlement. While it’s wonderful having visitors in the hugely exhausting aftermath of the birth of your child, sometimes people forget that all you want after a night swimming in human faeces with a soundtrack that resembles a human torture chamber is not have another human being knock at your door with a pitying smile on their face and gifts that aren’t for you. Sure, you can ask them to come another time owing to the fact you can’t be fucking bothered with the small talk after a night on the shit but be prepared for a fully grown adult to spit their dummy when it should really be your kid doing all the dummy hoying.

It’s very apparent to me that the main problem is the actions or reactions of other people when you have offspring, not the baby itself. As I’ve mentioned, a baby does stuff it’s meant to do and you deal with it. Easy. What’s difficult and wildly disconcerting is adult human beings doing stuff that would be extremely uncomfortable or offensive if it was in a normal social context. I’ve had random strangers approach me on the street, perversely touching my arm and stroking my son’s head as if he was a dog while making cooing noises and saying how much he looks like me. I’m 6’4”. My son’s mere inches in length. I don’t wear babygros. My son doesn’t have size 12 feet. I have green eyes. My son has blue eyes. We look nowt like each other. Basically the only thing we have in common is that we both can’t grow a beard. I don’t need human beings – whom I dislike at the best of times – greeting me in the street as if we’re long lost pals, having completely forgotten what a social boundary is.

If my son completes any sort of normal human function such as crying, smiling, farting, shitting, grumbling, making a cup of tea, having a pint or doing the dishes, the knock-on effect and consequent overreaction of other adults is astounding. The level of unfettered fawning is just cloying. My son – as handsome as he is – looks like pulped mincemeat when he’s trying to push out a shit and no amount of sickly sweet-nothings will convince me otherwise. Trying to keep a fixed grin on your face while human beings spout shite about your offspring is utterly debilitating.

All this while trying to ensure everyone’s had enough cuddles with him, everyone’s chipped in their two cents with the parental advice, and they all know when they’re next going to see him. Christ on a crystal meth binge. At least with a baby there’s only one human to look after.

So let me be clear: looking after a baby – easy. Looking after grown ups – not easy.

Father & Son goals...

Father and son goals…

Truth #2: all of the above (with the exception of other people ruining things – this rings true for both parents) only applies to the father. For the father, parenting is a fucking doddle. This is because the father barely has to lift a frigging finger. Of course, there are standard parenting duties that all parents must adhere to: changing nappies, feeding, hearing it scream in the night, telling it to shut the fuck up etc etc. But mainly, the dad pretty much gets off Scott free.

If the bairn is crying to be fed countless times during the night it sure as fuck isn’t going to be the father who gets his flabby tits out to feed it. He’s going to slumber like the saggy ape he is and leave all the difficult work to the mother. If the baby is crying its arse off, there’s only so much a dad can do to placate the thing before he hands it over to the mother to sort out with her boobs or the TLC that the father hasn’t evolved enough to acquire. Basically, any excessive drama with their offspring and all dads know that the baby is going to end up in the mam’s arms until it’s fed or calmed. Spoiler alert: this is an intrinsic knowledge that all fathers have and know about. They’ll ultimately know that there’s going to be no final burden on them because it’ll always fall to the mother to sort things out. And they can go off for a shit, a beer, a sneaky tug in the bathroom, whatever.

With Laura breastfeeding, we’ve fallen into a routine where I get to do all the sleeping during the night while Laura has to stay up feeding, burping, changing and rocking Finn to sleep. Of course, I hear him shouting and squirming but I have the luxury of turning over and snoozing while she puts the graft in. So I get at least five hours sleep a night while she gets barely any. I suspect this is the case for most fathers with a breastfeeding partner. And if you’re a dad reading these past couple of paragraphs and deny these facts then you’re a liar and your penis is going to come loose.

If the stress of the 9 month pregnancy, the mood swings, the hormonal changes, the actual birth itself and the emotional days post-pregnancy weren’t enough for the mother, then the following months of unadulterated horror are truly excruciating while the main problems for the dads are moaning about only having six hours sleep, and missing the football on a Sunday afternoon because they have to spend it pulling faces at their offspring while covered in shit.

So there you have it, dads. Be thankful you have a (small) penis, and a deep voice. You’ve drawn the long straw. Now stop being a whinging piss-pot and rub her back more.

Love you.

 

 

A Visit To Hill Top Farm

Absolute style

Absolute style

This morning I awoke to this news: Beatrix Potter story Kitty-In-Boots discovered after 100 years – BBC News and I wet the bed.

For a reason that’s emphatically unknown to science, God, and everyone I’ve ever crossed paths with, I have a comforting yet inexplicable obsession with the children’s author and scientist, Beatrix Potter. Several years ago, almost overnight and for reasons I’ve never been able to figure out, I developed a deep and definitely-not-completely-bizarre fascination with everything about her life, art, mycology and anthropomorphic animal tales involving lots of anthropomorphic animals and their anthropomorphic animal adventures.

While you would probably expect this Potter fixation to have stemmed directly from my childhood experience of Peter Rabbit and all his fantastically-attired chums, it turns out that though my early years were obviously splashed with a touch of Beatrix’s critter creations (and, let’s face it, it should be law that all babies and toddlers are drip fed an early childhood of Peter Rabbit, Mrs Tiggy-Winkle et al – and one would expect those that aren’t probably grow up to be extremely dangerous), it wasn’t actually until I reached the pointless old age of 30 that I began to acknowledge that this was a person with whom I was completely captivated, and was clearly everything I could ever hope to be as a human being.

Peter Rabbit presumably being strangled by his mam.

Peter Rabbit presumably being strangled by his mam.

I suspect it’s obvious that there may be an argument for a link to pre-school literature and my general mental age, but I can assure you this is only half the case. While I’m so obviously besotted with the children’s books that made her name, it was her general outlook on life, her way of living and her contempt for authority that resonated mostly with me.

Read any article or biography of Beatrix Potter and you’ll discover a society-raised, well-to-do young woman who despised the snobbish foppery, social aspiration and high society that her background represented. She held principles that align completely with my own, forged a career in something I’d love to forge a career in, pissed off an entire community (in this case the mycological science community by submitting, as an amateur mycologist, a paper on fungi that has since proved to be entirely accurate prompting the Linnean Society to issue an apology in 1997 for their sexism) before buggering off to live her later years as a sheep-farmer in the Lake District, all the while maintaining an outlook on life that makes me drool.

Here’s a few quotes from Miss P that illustrate just how startlingly wonderful she was:

“Thank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality.”

“All outward forms of religion are almost useless, and are the causes of endless strife. . . . Believe there is a great power silently working all things for good, behave yourself and never mind the rest.”

“I remember I used to half believe and wholly play with fairies when I was a child. What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense.”

This woman knew what’s what.

She was also a brilliant businesswoman, invented what we now know as merchandising, and was notoriously tough when it came to quality and output of her creations. Fun fact: she once told Walt Disney to basically sod off when he approached her in 1936 about adapting Peter Rabbit into a film. Oh, and she was also a huge conservationist, stubborn-headed when it came to preserving the landscape and fell-farming, and bequeathed all of her land and property (as well as her illustrations) to the National Trust which included the land which now makes up the Lake District National Park. I just simmer at her brilliance.

Beatrix Potter lived a perfect life. At least she did in my eyes. Aside from my fiancee Laura (of course!), she’s the one person who I idolise unequivocally. There isn’t a single aspect of her existence that I’m not fascinated by, completely in love with or just plain bowled over by. My friends and associates fully acknowledge my strange fixation with all things Beattie P and I’ll regularly get people who I’ve not spoken to in years pinging a link to my Facebook or Twitter when they stumble across something about Beatrix Potter they think I may have missed. Apparently just the mention of Beatrix Potter reminds them of me and my delirious fanboyism, and I am more than fine with that. Admittedly I’ve had friends say the same thing regarding Brad Pitt and Andrea Pirlo which, again, I’m absolutely fine with.

But Miss Potter’s my true icon. If I was eleven I’d have a poster of her on my bedroom wall. I’m not eleven though so instead I have a poster of Peter Rabbit and as many Beatrix Potter-themed trinkets dotted around the house as my girlfriend will allow. If it sounds creepy that’s because it isn’t.

But I’m blathering…

My future home

My future home

The first time I went to visit the Mecca of all things Beatrix Potter – Hill Top Farm – was with one of my oldest and most delightfully loopy mates, Emma, back in 2010. Such was the immensity of occasion, I was overawed and compelled enough to write a couple of poems about it, one of which is presented below in sonnet form. The day itself was one of the best I’ve ever had because BEATRIX POTTER’S HOUSE! Emma, being as much of a fangirl as I was a fanboy, really got into the spirit of it, ooohing and aaahing at handwritten letters and pencil sketches, and almost causing a riot when she discovered we weren’t allowed to take photos inside the house. This was a marked difference to the second time I went in 2014 with my friend Dan who looked as pissed off as one would expect a 34 year old to be when being moaned at for not acting as excited as I was at visiting Peter Rabbit’s house.

It took Emma and me about four hours to find the place despite driving straight past it about a billion times, completely oblivious to the hordes of Japanese tourists queuing up outside. Added to this was getting yelled at and chased by angry locals on Windermere for Emma’s illegal parking manoeuvres as well as spending an arresting few hours encouraging her pet dog, Arthur, to swim in the lake and acting like a proud mum when he didn’t drown. It’s days like these that memories are really made of.

So here’s the scribbles from the day we had tea and cake at Beatrix Potter’s house. It’s obviously dedicated to Emma because it was an utterly glorious day plus she drove us all the way there and I still haven’t paid her for the petrol.

 

‘A Visit To Hill Top Farm’

_____________________________________________________________

Hours in the car, laughing; a trip we took,
On winding roads towards green, looming peaks.
You drove us there. We got lost by a brook
And in fields; endless moors steeped in mystique.
We drove past it five times. Possibly six,
Laughing, wondering if we’d ever see
Her home; the cottage where our Beatrix
Spun her tales and inspired us. You and me.
Then we found ourselves there, softly entranced
By bunnies, ducks, or a handwritten note.
We stood where imagination once danced;
The creatures she drew, the stories she wrote.
And all day we laughed. You and me. Content.
Still you don’t know – you don’t – how much it meant.

Dedicated to Emma Kate Corr, written in the summer of 2010.

Emma also edits a superb parenting blog at www.emmakatecorr.com. Have a gander. Right now.

 

Correspondence #5: eBay

I found this image on the internationalnetwork. I've no idea what it's referring to, and I'm using the image without permission.

I found this image on the internationalnetwork. I’ve no idea what it’s referring to, and I’m using the image without permission.

My username on eBay is mr_jimmy_grimble which is something my brother occasionally calls me. I’m not sure exactly why, nor where the name originated but there is a film called ‘There’s Only One Jimmy Grimble’ which is a football film about a young footballer who plays football with a football. It wasn’t about me though as I haven’t played football for ages due to laziness and severe trench foot caused by a pair of £8 trainers that I purchased on eBay.

I usually buy the same pair of these trainers twice a year, and because they’re so cheap coupled with the fact my feet are Hobbit-esque and belong in the circus, they have a tendency to fall apart after about six months due to the unnecessary stress my freak feet exert to the interior lining. This time, however, the seam in these sneaky sneakers split the second time I put them on, and when I opened up a correspondence with the seller I genuinely wanted a simple replacement. If it wasn’t for them ignoring me then emailing with a dismissive retort I probably would have forgotten about it which happens a lot because of years of recreational drug abuse that has removed large chunks of my memory.

 

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:17-Nov-15 18:39

mr_jimmy_grimble has sent a question about item #321177794881, ending on 20-Nov-15 11:33:21 GMT – New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School
PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Up

Hi,

I purchased these trainers last week, I’ve worn them twice and the seam in
the left shoe has split open.

Would I be able to return them for a pair that aren’t damaged?

Kind regards,

Chris

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:18-Nov-15 10:18
please send us an image so we can check this thanks

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:18-Nov-15 20:54
As requested
Not a hint of hedgehog...

Welcome to Splitsville. Population: shoe.

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:26-Nov-15 15:42

Hi,

Did you receive the image of the split trainer? If not, here’s the offending item now.

Many thanks,

Chris

Not a hint of hedgehog...

Seams dodgy. See what I did there?

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:26-Nov-15 17:03
yes just wait. we are dealing with this

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:26-Nov-15 17:39

Dear Sue Centre,

Many thanks for your friendly response.

It pleases me greatly to know that you are dealing with this swiftly, efficiently,
and effectively – all adjectives that one would use to describe responding to
a query that has been sitting festering for over a week with no communication.

However, I completely understand your reticence to reply to my request for
a replacement shoe. At present I am ignoring approximately 40 emails
including several from a solicitor regarding a tax evasion scam I am
caught up in as well as about 25 from my manager at work asking how
the stock level in the vending machines halve with no noticeable profit
every time I am on shift. I find replying to email gets in the way of
more pressing concerns such as chewing my fingernails or trying
on my girlfriend’s clothes when she’s at work.

I should only presume, given the length of time it’s been since my first
query, that you’ve sent off the photograph of my diseased trainer to
Kodak to be analysed for authenticity should you be concerned that
I am attempting to con you out of £10. You need not worry as I can
guarantee that it’s genuine as that is my freshly manicured thumb
pointing to where the split in the seam is. I had it manicured especially
for that photograph. As a token of goodwill from yourself, I’d gladly
accept a refund on the manicure as well. It only seems fair. It cost £50.
Just transfer it into my PayPal account at your earliest convenience.

I look forward to your early response regarding my trainer troubles.

Regards,

Chris

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:09-Jan-16 10:09

Dear Sue Centre,

Many thanks for your reply which still hasn’t arrived.

I replied to your friendly reply back on 26th November 2015 and it’s
now 9th January 2016 which I calculate is approximately 6 months
since we last corresponded. That’s a long time to leave me hanging.
It’s like the email equivalent of me going to high five you and you
just looking at me blankly while my high-fived hand is just hanging
in the air. Perhaps that’s where the phrase ‘don’t leave me hanging’
comes from. Something to think about I suppose, especially if you
don’t high five and opt for ‘big tens’ instead. That would just be
embarrassing if you attempted to big ten someone and got nothing
back. I can’t imagine anything more excruciating.

Anyway, enough about high fives and big tens. My damaged New
Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims
Shoes Lace Ups are still awaiting return to the mothership to be replaced.
Can you tell me when this will happen? Presently, they’re sitting on a
shelf in my flat looking at me and wondering what’s going on and why
they’re not being used. I haven’t the heart to tell them that they’re
damaged and pretty much useless, and that I’m still waiting for a
younger, more attractive, more nubile pair of New Mens Ladies Unisex Black
White School PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups to arrive to
replace them.

Incidentally can we please refer to my New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White
School PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups as simply
‘my damaged trainers’ from now on? When I called the police to
inform them about your shoddy correspondence and apparent
refusal to replace my New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School PE Pumps
Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups they hung up after the seventh time
I referred to them as New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School PE Pumps
Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups.

I hope this matter is resolved sooner rather than later. I’d hate to
have to open up a dispute thing with PayPal as I’ve heard they’re
Mafia-esque.

Kind regards,

Chris

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:09-Jan-16 13:36
please send us a picture of the received item and where its faulty, we advise you to return the item back to us so we can check this, we have not been ignoring you as you state, we are not a company to rip you of for £8 worth of shoes?????? you can call the police or do what is best but its not the way we deal with our returns or faulty items. please firstly send us a picture of the item as you are claiming it to be damaged

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:09-Jan-16 14:28

Dear Sue,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

Unfortunately I’ve deleted the image of my diseased trainer from my iPhone,
as well as the 400 photographs of my feet that I take each time I’m on the
toilet, in order to free up storage space so I can download images of Brad
Pitt with no top on. I’ve attached my current favourite image of Brad instead.
I’d like to think he was thinking of me in this picture; perhaps about meeting
up and watching all of his movies together. I think he’d be a really nice
person to hang out with. We could talk about trainers. Perhaps he’d ask me
why I was wearing a damaged pair of New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White
School PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups, and I could reply that
the seam split; then he could ask why I don’t get them replaced and I’d
say that I’ve been trying my hardest but not getting anywhere with Sue
Centre. Then he’d probably call Sue a cow and give me a hug. I expect
he doesn’t wear damaged New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School
PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups.

However, if you read the previous correspondence you will see that I
sent an image of my diseased shoe back on 26th November, as per your
request. As previously mentioned, you can see my thumb in the image so
please let me know what you think of the manicure you so kindly offered
to pay for by way of recompense for failing to respond to my enquiry
about replacing my damaged trainer. I am still awaiting the funds to
be deposited into my account.

It does reassure me to know that you aren’t a company that rips people
off for £8 worth of shoes but it’s quite apparent that your shoes rip
themselves off given how easily the seam burst away from the sole
the second time I put them on. On the plus side, wearing damaged trainers
that expose my feet to the elements does have its advantages including
trench foot and mild frostbite which I think creates a connection between
me and Mother Nature.

Please let me know when my new trainer will be sent.

Regards,

Chris

Oooh la la...

Oooh la la…

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:09-Jan-16 20:31
please provide us with proper photos and not brad pitt

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:10-Jan-16 13:17

Dear Sue Centre,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

That was a test and you failed. It’s quite clearly a picture of a shirtless
Johnny Depp and definitely not a picture of Brad Pitt with no top on.
I know this because I’ve memorised the intricacies of Brad’s abdominal
muscles and they’re clearly not on show here. I’m disappointed with you
in making such an elementary mistake and fear you cannot be trusted in
a combat situation. If this is the way you conduct your business then it’s
no wonder that your Ladies Unisex Black White School PE Pumps Plimsoll
Plims Shoes Lace Ups surrender and capitulate to the elements after only
36 hours of use playing football, rock climbing and kicking small
hedgehogs against garage walls as they go about their business.

Having said that I have, at no extra expense to you and despite having
already sent the image twice previously, attached the initial photograph
of the diseased trainer and my manicured thumb which, given the
protracted nature of this correspondence, is due another one as my
thumbnail is nowlong and powerful enough to slice open the seam on the
other shoe with minimal effort.

I trust procedures will now be in place to get my New Mens Ladies Unisex
Black White School PE Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Up replaced at
long long last.

Kind regards,

Chris

Not a hint of hedgehog...

Not a hint of hedgehog…

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:10-Jan-16 16:36
we advise you to return them to us so we can inspect the shoes and help you get it the situation resolved thanks

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:11-Jan-16 13:21

Dear Sue,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

I am very glad we are approaching something resembling a resolution with
regard to my diseased New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School PE
Pumps Plimsoll Plims Shoes Lace Ups. I have taken your advice and
first thing this morning I went to the post office with my broken trainer
and asked them to wrap it up and post it to you. When they asked me why
I wanted to post one shoe I explained that it was infected and needed to
be replaced with one that isn’t extremely ill with an infectious disease.
Not entirely sure of what to make of my statement, the clerk behind the
desk offered to throw it in the bin if it was as terminally ill as I suggested
so I hastily agreed because I didn’t want them to make a scene as I was still
in my pyjamas and night cap.

However, I have instead sent you the left boot of the slipper boots that
I got off Santa Claus this Christmas. They too are damaged due to the length
of my toenails and their all-too-easy ability to penetrate soft, woollen fabric
and half-arsed stitch-work carried out by child sweatshop workers in
Bangladesh.

The damaged slipper boot should arrive tomorrow, first class post, so please
send me a New Mens Ladies Unisex Black White School PE Pumps Plimsoll
Plims Shoes Lace Up as a replacement.

Kind regards,

Chris

From:shucentre-uk
To:mr_jimmy_grimble
Sent:11-Jan-16 17:12
we can’t accept a damaged slipper in place of a shoe. return the split trainer and we’ll see what we can do

Kind Regards

ShuCentre
http://www.shucentre.co.uk

From:mr_jimmy_grimble
To:shucentre-uk
Sent:12-Jan-16 9:06

Dear Sue,

You owe me a slipper.

Kind regards,

Chris

Correspondence #3: DPD

Fuck you...

Fuck you…

I wasn’t going to post this particular correspondence because of the multiple people I was forced to correspond with, all with varying personalities, flamboyant grammar and sentence structure, and middling to okay sense of humours. But I’ve decided to post because of the time of year and the heart-warming resolution at the end of it.

It consistently baffles and amazes me how every little thing in general society fails to work properly. From buses and trains that repeatedly fail to arrive on time to my brain disengaging correspondence with my body when driving causing me to veer wildly across whole lanes of traffic and giving my instructor cause to wear nappies each time he gets in a car with me, there isn’t a thing on earth that doesn’t make my piss boil.

My most recent bugbear was the delivery people at DPD. Attempting multiple times to arrange and rearrange delivery of a parcel to my home vexed me so much it caused me to have to text my mother to ask her to sit in my pig-sty of a flat staring at the front door in order to sign for it when they arrived. I love my mam very much but engaging in a text conversation with her is more stressful than being attacked in my sleep with improvised weapons made of cardboard by my girlfriend’s adorably loud little son at 6am. More often than not the text messages I receive off my mam require a degree in modern languages and an hour of intense deliberation in order to decipher what it is she’s saying. The same goes with her general every day vernacular. As well as regularly referring to my brother as my dad, me as my brother and my dad as the pet dog, she also has a habit of muttering dizzying turns of phrase the likes of which cause my dad, brother and I to exchange confused and bewildered glances. Often she’ll say things like, ‘I’m making cake for the dinner afterwards for pudding later as dessert’ or something similarly bamboozling. She also has a clever way of presuming that everyone is talking to her regardless of whether she’s partaking in the conversation or, indeed, if she’s even in the same room. I’ve had conversations with my dad that unfold something like this:

‘Yeah, he should have started as a striker as he’s wasted on the wing,’ I’d state.
‘Without a doubt,’ my dad would chip in, ‘complete waste of a pair of football boots out there.’
At which point a distant voice, usually from upstairs, would pipe up:
‘What?’ My mam, a flight of stairs and two rooms away, would deduce that we were talking to her. ‘What are yous saying? Did you shout of me?’ We’d ignore her and carry on our discussion.
‘I need Newcastle to win on my accumulator but I’ll say a 7-0 home defeat. You?’ I’d continue.
‘Double figures defeat.’
Then a voice from upstairs: ‘what? Hello? What did you say? I can’t hear you.’ Then footsteps would carry across the ceiling and pitter-patter down the stairs. My mam would pop her head around the door, breathless: ‘Were you shouting of me?’
‘NO!’

Every conversation that occurs at my folks’ house involves a sub-conversation to remind her we’re not addressing her directly. And despite me being an idiot, she usually drops whatever she’s doing to attend to whatever I ask of her. Once, when in the Highlands of Scotland, I told her I’d contracted some form of poisoning from wild swimming in a river and she basically offered to come up and get me and take me home until I reminded her I was 33 and not 3. Bless her. She must really care for me though that may well change when she discovers that I’m going to pack her off to a nursing home when she’s outlived her usefulness.

 

DPD – Your Delivery 5012032174

Inbox
x

Social Media socialmedia@dpdgroup.co.uk via exn3ez146lzs.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

Dec 9 (2 days ago)

to me
Good afternoon Chris

I’m writing further to my earlier voicemail and in response to your tweet. I’m so sorry to learn that you have experienced difficulties with your delivery.After I left my message I called the driver straight back and was able to stay on the line whilst he delivered the parcel to your house and Mrs Peet signed for it.

With regards to your request to deliver to your neighbour, there is no reason that this couldn’t have happened with the way that your delivery was arranged by the sender, but the driver did mention that he had previously attempted to deliver to one of your neighbours who had refused to accept delivery.

We strive to deliver all parcels swiftly and promptly and upon this occasion we have not met expectations, for which I apologise. As your parcel has now been safely received I trust that all is now in order, however if you have any further concerns please do let us know.

Very best wishes

Julie
DPD Customer Services

Chris James Peet <chrisjpeet@googlemail.com>

Dec 9 (2 days ago)

to Social

Dear Julie,

Many thanks for your voicemail offering a potential solution to a problem that was resolved myself via 40 text messages, 14 phone calls and several threats towards random members of the public and my mother due to my frustration at DPD’s poor delivery service.

Having recently purchased an item that was comparable in price to that Ark of the Covenant thing the Nazi’s loved in the Harrison Fjord film ‘Raider Of The Lost Ark: The Adventures of Indiana Jones’, I was keen to have this delivered at the earliest convenience and not have to endure the unabashedly stupid comic-book adventure thrill ride in which Harrison Fjord’s character had to partake in order to get a hold of his own undeliverable item. Given my recent experience, unfortunately that’s turned out to be the case despite me not owning a fedora and bullwhip. Judging by the title of the film, I can only presume that Indy had attempted to have the Ark of the Covenant also delivered by DPD given how it ultimately ended up in the hands of the Nazis and everyone’s faces melted when it arrived 2 months late, not at Indy Jones’s house, but on a weird rock thing in the middle of the sea where it emitted a powerful light that killed dozens of people. It was a great movie though. My favourite bit was when Indy finally got the Ark delivered and you could see the relief in his face that he hadn’t threatened his mother with violence if she didn’t take the day off work to go to his house to sign for it.

Furthermore, it did distress me a lot to learn that my five requests to have my parcel delivered to one of my neighbours went unheeded. Except that one time you mentioned where my neighbour apparently refused to accept delivery of it. This is understandable as if it’s the neighbour I’m thinking of he still hasn’t forgiven me for the time he saw me in the street, stopped to make small talk and I pretended to be speaking to someone on my phone which then rang loudly at the mid-point of passing him. He still goes on about that sometimes.

But I digress. I really would have appreciated an acknowledgement that you at least attempted delivery to a neighbour. All I got was several photographs of the front, side and rear of my flat which, while it brought to my attention a potential guttering problem, it did seem to imply that your couriers have something of a voyeuristic component attached to their personalities.

And while your service offered multiple choices for redelivery should I not be home, my repeated attempts to option one of these was met with a radio silence the likes of which will not be seen until the nuclear apocalypse that’s due to occur whenever the next Terminator film says it will.

Is there any form of recompense for not meeting my delivery expectations? Ideally I’d like leather trousers but a cash prize would also be acceptable.

I expect to hear from you in due course.

Kind regards,

Chris

Social Media via 32ycooggtbovek.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

Dec 10 (1 day ago)

to me
Hi Chris,

Thanks for getting back to us.I do have to commend you on the film references to a DPD delivery I’ve honestly never thought of one of our deliveries in this way. Although come to think of it we do track our drivers like Enemy of the state :O Staring my favourite actor Will Smith.

I’m sorry your parcel wasn’t delivered to you since the 3rd as it should have been and our driver have struggled to deliver to you or one of your neighbours. I know our drivers are franchise driver that attempted at your address. This does mean that they are only paid per successful delivery attempt as an incentive to do their best to get parcels delivered (none of Indiana’s treasure for Steve). I can now see this was delivered to you yesterday as you’ve said.

I’m really sorry that you have been through such an ordeal. I wouldn’t be able to get you a cash prize but I did enjoy reading your email as it was slightly different to those that we’re used to if you have a delivery in future please mail in and we’ll do everything we can to stop this happening in future although some steps have already been taken.  I really hope you do get those leather trousers but if there is any rock unturned or a question I’ve left unanswered please let me know.

Kindest regards
Simon
Social Media

Chris James Peet <chrisjpeet@googlemail.com>

3:25 PM (21 hours ago)

to Social
Dear Si,
Thanks for your friendly reply.

I too enjoy staring at my favourite actors in all the movies I like. Once, I stared at an image of Brad Pitt’s abs for so long that I developed a slight astigmatism in one of my eyes the side effects of which cause me to sweat and tremble profusely every time he appears on screen. I’ll admit that this has caused some concern from my girlfriend regarding my sexuality but even though I’m slightly curious, I can confirm that I’m probably not gay. Despite the existence of Brad, Andrea Pirlo and Lion-O from Thundercats.

Regarding the protracted delivery of my parcel, it has caused something of an issue with my mother who had to take the afternoon off work because of DPD’s repeated refusal to change my delivery. I know I made something of a joke regarding a compensatory gesture for me but when it comes to my mam I’m deadly serious. She does a lot for me and if she refuses to help me in my time of need she’ll certainly know about it. She can’t half take a punch that one. She lost a lot of flexi-time finishing work early to wait in for the parcel so it would be much appreciated if you could refund this flexi-time via email at your earliest convenience. I know she would appreciate the gesture. If you could gift wrap it, even better.

I expect this act of kindness will thoroughly make up for your repeated failure to deliver my present.

Kind regards,

Chris

Social Media via rln3c3v01ttd.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

4:20 PM (20 hours ago)

to me
Hey Chris,

Thanks for your reply, I must say I admire your great respect for Brad Pitts abs :)In regards to your mother waiting in I agree that she would probably have been quite peeved for it to fail and wouldn’t be too impressed when you got back. I would like to offer that we send out a box of chocolates to her as a good will gesture. Is this something you think would make her feel better?

Thanks,
Alison

Chris James Peet <chrisjpeet@googlemail.com>

4:37 PM (20 hours ago)

to Social

Dear Alison,

Many thanks for your friendly reply.

A box of chocolates sounds like a pleasant goodwill gesture. Will she get fries with that? She can take them or leave them to be honest but I was told to always ask.

If you could send the chocolates (and/or fries) to the following address and have them delivered personally from Mr Kriss Kringle then I promise I won’t send you the other 86 emails addressed to DPD Customer Care I have sitting in my drafts folder*. Many thanks indeed.

Mrs Ann Peet
**** *******
****** ******
***************
**** ***
Kind regards,
Chris
*this is dependent on the physical state of my now-delivered parcel. I’ve yet to get home to see it so you may well receive further correspondence from me should I be dissatisfied with the delivered package.

Social Media via cs03r51nsve3.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

5:52 PM (18 hours ago)

to me
Hey Chris,

I’m glad you said yes! Unfortunately we’re out of fries :'(On a brighter note, the chocolates are being arranged for you and I’ll drop you a quick email to let you know when they’ll get there.

Social Media via qctovxce0jppjx.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

5:56 PM (18 hours ago)

to me
Chris,

They will be there Monday, you’ll get a text with the one hour slot 🙂

Chris James Peet <chrisjpeet@googlemail.com>

6:41 PM (18 hours ago)

to Social

Dear Alison,

Many thanks for your friendly reply. Additional thanks for your goodwill gesture.

It pleases me greatly to know my mother will receive an early Christmas present of a box of expensive handmade personalised chocolates shipped in from Belgium especially and wrapped in a satin bow by you personally. It’s more than she’s getting off me because frankly she doesn’t deserve a thing given the amount of times she tried to get out of waiting at my flat for my parcel. You’re obviously a lovely person. I’ll send you a Christmas card occasionally by way of thanks.

I hope your Christmas is more Santa Claus and less Ebenezer Scrooge.

Happy Easter, Alison.

Kind regards,

Chris

Sent from my iPhone

Social Media via rccdbmvl8dv.2-ms7weag.eu3.bnc.salesforce.com 

6:27 AM (6 hours ago)

to me
Hey Chris,
Alison doesn’t start until 8 but I’ll make sure that she see’s this thanks so much for getting back to us and spreading the Christmas cheer I hope you have a great Christmas too 🙂