The Curse of the Clan
Jan. 15th, 2013 03:12 pmDid you know that the UN has declared 2013 to be the International Year of Quinoa? That seems less ambitious than Peace or Co-operation or whatever.
There was a sort of theme to today: Communications weirdness.
One:
We had a new phone line installed at work late last year. Somehow, instead of adding it to our regular bill addressed to [business name] at [business address], Telstra managed to create a new bill for [my boss] at [City by the Sea]. No street name or PO Box or anything like that, just the city. Stupid Telstra (but kudos to Australia Post for managing to deliver the bill). Today I went to see, oh no, the Telstra Business Centre to get this fixed. Experience would suggest that this is likely to end up badly, so fingers crossed.
Two:
I had to ring ASIC (the body that looks after company registration). 'We are experiencing a higher than usual volume of calls,' said the recorded message. 'We apologise, but we cannot take your call right now.' Then it hung up. No putting me in a queue, no asking me to go to their website, no telling me to leave a number for someone to call me back. I felt so unloved.
Two A:
Not a failure, but a mystery: When I tried ASIC again a while later, I managed to get through to someone (after a lengthy and confusing menu process). I told her my name and what I wanted, and she said, 'I'll email that through straight away. Do you need anything else today?' I said, 'Don't you need a company number or an email address?' and she said, 'No, I've sent it already.' And so she had. Her email arrived right then, and it had everything on it: company name and number and so on. Which was all very strange, since I'd only told her my name. I suppose she might have caller ID to identify the phone number, which can then identify the company and all my contact details? It was both magic and unsettling, whatever the explanation.
Three:
Someone sent me an email saying that her company has been taken over and so she now has a new email address. Instead of firstname.surname@business.com, her email is now H8788-SL8@newbusiness.com. That's... weirdly impersonal.
There was a sort of theme to today: Communications weirdness.
One:
We had a new phone line installed at work late last year. Somehow, instead of adding it to our regular bill addressed to [business name] at [business address], Telstra managed to create a new bill for [my boss] at [City by the Sea]. No street name or PO Box or anything like that, just the city. Stupid Telstra (but kudos to Australia Post for managing to deliver the bill). Today I went to see, oh no, the Telstra Business Centre to get this fixed. Experience would suggest that this is likely to end up badly, so fingers crossed.
Two:
I had to ring ASIC (the body that looks after company registration). 'We are experiencing a higher than usual volume of calls,' said the recorded message. 'We apologise, but we cannot take your call right now.' Then it hung up. No putting me in a queue, no asking me to go to their website, no telling me to leave a number for someone to call me back. I felt so unloved.
Two A:
Not a failure, but a mystery: When I tried ASIC again a while later, I managed to get through to someone (after a lengthy and confusing menu process). I told her my name and what I wanted, and she said, 'I'll email that through straight away. Do you need anything else today?' I said, 'Don't you need a company number or an email address?' and she said, 'No, I've sent it already.' And so she had. Her email arrived right then, and it had everything on it: company name and number and so on. Which was all very strange, since I'd only told her my name. I suppose she might have caller ID to identify the phone number, which can then identify the company and all my contact details? It was both magic and unsettling, whatever the explanation.
Three:
Someone sent me an email saying that her company has been taken over and so she now has a new email address. Instead of firstname.surname@business.com, her email is now H8788-SL8@newbusiness.com. That's... weirdly impersonal.