The Ridiculous Virgin

Some might be aware that I moved to a new flat a couple of months back. Most of the problems that crop up when moving have been resolved since then. Most. But one last thing is lingering and growing more painful by the minute. We are still waiting for Virgin Media to pull their finger out and get around to supplying the services that we are currently paying for.

Getting a telephone connected to the flat has been an ongoing saga. First we tried to bring our old BT number with us. It seemed simple enough and they assured us that it would take a couple of days, once the former occupants of the flat cancelled their account which seemed to have been left open. Fair enough, we thought, and were reasonably content to have to wait the two weeks. Catch was, when they sent an engineer, he was not, at first, convinced that he was at the right flat. We insisted that the address we had given was right, so he changed the number. For the wrong flat. Our number was given to the flat upstairs. See, our flat doesn't even have a BT line. It took them 2 weeks to figure this out. Genius. So we decided that rather than wait the extra four weeks to get a BT line, we would cancel our account and go with Virgin, who we used for Broadband. And that was our second mistake.

At first, all seemed to go well. An installation tech came out, set up our TV, our phone and our new cable broadband for us using the existing cable. He was friendly, seemed to know what he was doing, and left us satisfied that everything was working. We seemed to have made the right choice, even if it did mean getting a new phone number. All went well for about a week. Then the phone went down. First it crackled, then it died completely. And the saga really began around about here.

You see, the departments at Virgin Media seem not to talk to each other. You call to report a fault, and they can send someone out within 2 weeks to take a look. That person may or may not be able to do more than tell you what you already know - that the fault is at their end, not yours. In our case, he could tell us that the cable bringing the service into our property was corroded through. And that the back up cable was also gone. Joy of joys. He set up a crew to come and replace the cable - an appointment that was 4 weeks away and suggested in the mean time that we keep trying in case others decided not to wait. Gee, I wonder why you wouldn't wait 4 weeks for a phone connection? The date for the new appointment fell on Saturday, sometime between 8 and 1, we were told.

Saturday dawned dark and wet. We got up at the unholy hour of 8, just to make sure that we weren't going to miss the call. Turns out, there was no way in hell that we'd have missed the banging on the door, because it never came. We saw the techs. They came to the gate, stood there for a moment, then turned and walked away. At 9am. Fair enough, we thought, maybe they need something else, as their van drove away. So we gave them until 1, as agreed, to come back and give us a phone. No. They never came back, and when we called - using our mobile, and running up an already enormous bill - we were told that they'd called the office at 12:40 saying something - the person at the other end couldn't figure out what it was either - was blocked, but that they'd be back later. Again, wrong. So come 3, we tried again, this time to be told that it had been referred to the construction department and that a manager would be calling us within the hour. Foolishly, going against evidence to date, we accepted this, if only to get us away from the Miley Cyrus/Duffy loop of hold music. Don't get me wrong, I used to like both of those songs, but hearing them repeat for about 2 hours in the course of one day is more than I can bear.

We waited. Again. No contact. So we once again took up our lovely non-Virgin mobiles at around 5 and dialed the 0845 number, choosing a random selection from the 4 options that come after about 3 minutes of hearing about Sky coming back to Virgin TV. Yes, I know, wonderful. Now please fix my phone. At least give me a date when you will fix it. November 18? I think not. So I launched into a rant. Now, I don't do this very often. I tend to think that the person at the other end of the phone is unlikely to respond well to out and out anger, but I was in a foul mood by now. I wanted my phone fixed, and I wanted it done that day. Except the construction management had gone home. There was nothing they could do. Except book me in for the 18 November. Which is a week day, meaning that either I or my flat mate would have to lose a day of work. Now my job is precarious thanks to the credit crunch, and my flatmate gets paid by the hour. Which of us would you like to take time out of the office, Mr Branson? But thanks for the reassurance that we won't be paying for the phone while it's not working. Just so we're clear here, we're not paying for ANY of it while it's not working, I think. It is possible to cancel a dirct debit at the bank, you know. I was promised that my complaint was being escalated, not just to the manager responsible, but to his manager, and that I would be hearing from them.

Now here I am, it's almost lunchtime on Monday morning and, what a surprise, I haven't heard a peep out of anyone. Google, however, has revealed at least one blog where someone got a response. So I'm hoping that the complaints people at Virgin are able to get their hands on this. If nothing else, I have their names. I can get their numbers, their postal addresses - hell, if I try hard enough, probably their home addresses, and I'm sure THEIR phone works just fine. Surely it's not a lot to ask. A phone line, without spending hours calling. Please. Anything so I don't have to hear the words 'Right, we've got four options for you' ever again.