Bigger than jesus

I hate Optus.

This is well known, nothing new there, but today I do believe we reached a new low in our ongoing stand-off.

I'll admit, I am in the habit of using and abusing phones. I'm also not all that hot at holding on to them, its just one of the litany of unimportant practical skills that I have other people to remind me of. Much like road crossing but lets not start that one tonight.

In any case, after a long and involved saga involving insurance, i-phones and stupendously long and ill-informed waits I was happily informed by the Optus insurance phone wench yesterday that I would get a new phone TODAY. Which my disbelieving ears queried, but hey, one can only live in hope. Roll on Optus in-store wench number two, Charlotte.

My polite phone call to inquire when might be an appropriate time to collect the new shininess today was greeted by the lovely Charlotte who point blank informed me she didn't have really much idea what I was talking about AND not withstanding this, even if she did, she's not particularly interested in helping me. That's "insurance's problem". Noting the ten second upgrade from customer to problem I promptly hung up on Charlotte and placed a slightly more terse call to insurance where I managed one better, Grant informed they were "washing their hands of the issue altogether. Thats the store's problem now". Lovely.

A couple more calls back to the store, another to insurance and yet another couple to customer service ensured I wasted a good deal of my afternoon. I've still got no idea where my phone, neither does anybody, and no idea of when it mught arrive. Apparently I must be a slave to the door of George Street Optus up until the point the Optus gods see fit to bequeath a phone on this poor, unfortunate 'problem'.

In the interim, my phone's playing fun, amusing games and its got a penchance for giving me tmissed calls and messages three days after the fact. So if you're trying to contact me i'm not ignoring you. Promise.

End Rant.