Dear Mr. Telstra

Dear Mr. Telstra,

I don't like you very much. In fact, I would go as far as to say I detest your stinking guts. However, as you are an enormous business, I doubt very much you know or care what I think. I know for a fact three of your employees don't like me very much. Particularly after today's events.

I have never been fond of the arrangement in this country, which essentially dictates that for communication purposes, there are two options - Optus or Telstra. I've been to Optus. I won't be going back.

We've been with Telstra for a few years now. It's an uneasy relationship. I hate them. And they take our money. Tricky, isn't it?

Last November, we signed up for a "bundle" with Telstra that basically gave us our internet, home phone and mobile phones in a deal which wasn't terrible. Thanks to a promotion at the time, we also received a T-box thrown in for nothing. I didn't want it initially, thinking it would be terrifically expensive. Two separate "sales representatives" assured me that it was a special Christmas deal, and that I should take advantage of it, as T-boxes were typically $300.

So we said, yeah, ok, why not? A free digital recording thingy! Great! More telly for the kids! (Woohoo!)

And when the first bill came in with an unexplained extra payment for "hardware", I tried to query it. Only, I was put on hold for so long that I gave up, and thought I would try again later.

I ended up ringing Telstra so many times, and waiting through that ear-piercing waiting music (what is that?? specially designed ear torture?? It makes my ears bleed, no joke) that eventually, I kind of gave up. Until today.

The T-box stopped working. Which meant that not only could I not use the damn thing, but I was paying for it WHEN WE WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!! So I bit the bullet, and phoned *ahem* "customer service" (*hack* *cough* *splutter*)

Today, I lost 45 minutes of my life that I won't get back in a hurry. I spent 45 excruciating minutes on the blower, explaining the same situation to three different people, all of whom would be paid regardless of whether or not my problem was solved.

I would like to congratulate you, Mr. Telstra, for training your employees magnificently in the fine arts of contempt and condescension. All three of them had perfected an impeccable phone manner, in which they repeatedly assured me that I would be taken care of, whilst simultaneously clearly implying I was an imbecile.

The first two told me that they would explain my situation to the next "customer service" representative that I would speak to. I'm not sure what information was passed on, but each new person answered the phone completely oblivious to who I was, or what I wanted.

Initially, I spoke to a rather obsequious young man who assured me that my problem was indeed unacceptable, and that he would personally ensure that a solution would be found. Enter handball number one.

The young lady who followed kept telling me that she was a T-box performance engineer, or some crap  thing like that. She patently didn't believe me when I told her the thing was broken. I told her that it had never worked properly, that we had developed strategies when it needed "help". I informed her that we had changed the batteries in the remote, disconnected the whole shebang, put it all back together, and still it didn't work.

She asked me if it was switched on at the power point.

She's quite fortunate I didn't stick my fist down the phone at her at this junction.

When she asked if the telly was actually turned on, or if I had forgotten to do so, I got a bit, um, authoritative. It took her 30 minutes to tell me to press this, and reset that, and hold this button, and enter this PIN that you will find underneath the modem on the other side of the room, only to find that none of it worked. At which point, I simpered, "So, now do you believe me? It's B-R-O-K-E-N".

Would you believe I was then tranferred to a new person?? This one, the lucky last, went through my personal details again, asked my life story, again, and then explained in the most condescending tones an 18 year old could muster, that I needed to pay for the service if I wished to use it.

"Look," I said, in my best teacher voice. "You might think I'm thick, but two separate Telstra employees told me and my husband that this was part of a promotion. The words "you will not be charged for this" were uttered, twice. At no point in time would I ever, EVER, sign up for a recording device costing $300, especially since all it did was stuff the telly up and break down all the time."

I was then asked quietly if I would like to return the T-box. Well yes, actually, I would. You can take your T-box and stick it in the proverbial sunshine-deficient place.

Long story short, Mr. Telstra, not only am I sending back your piece of plastic, but you're paying for the postage, and I'm getting a full refund. And all because I stopped speaking nicely and used the same tone of voice your company is famous for.

I'm not saying I'm going to start swaggering around being rude to all and sundry. Heavens to Betsy, no. That would be most unpleasant. No, no - what I learned today was that whenever I deal with your company, rude is the way to go. It's the only language you understand, you see.

So thank you, Mr. Telstra, for helping me find my chutzpah today. Oh, and the refund will be most welcome, too.

Yours (ever so delicately blowing a raspberry)

Salamander