Trying Teen Times - the grown up one

Eldest is suffering from boy. Being a boy. Being aimless, feckless and without any clear idea. It is a boy thing. I get that it's a boy thing and somewhere you find your own level, your own pace, and it all comes right. Mostly, in pdubyahworld anyway.

Eldest did a year of work, and the decided that University was a better bet, and that Geography and Philosophy would be his thing. I guess he wanted to both sit an ponder on a hill, and ponder about life and hill. Who knows.

Anyway a year on and that's not what we wanted to do at all. So we had the "chat". He was blabbing on about this and that and came up with the trusted "I don't have a plan"

I waved my arms around a bit, in the way that you do, and see in movies, and explained in a pained and hushed voice "Did you think that This house, the car I drive, the two children I have and the job that I've been in for 12 years was my plan?" I continued "That my son is not a plan it's actually a bit of a nightmare"

He's promised to see out university and get a real job. Although his idea of a job appears to want to be an "animator" which I hope is cartoons and not Dr.Frankenstein type stuff.

Grrr, Vodafone people.

Angry much ?

We changed our Telecom account to a Vodafone account. Which was easy as. Fill in a form, flash your ID, and voila like magic you have your number on a different carrier. When I did this the wonderfully helpful assistant really was helpful and everything happened like it was supposed to.

One of the reasons to change was costs, when the said phone was mainly a text device for mother and children. All on the same network now, all lovely jubly.

The 'plan' was to get with the network and then transfer to the appropriate plan a couple of months later. Which it turns out would be a pre-pay plan, just because the phone is not in high use and a minutes plan wouldn't work out so well.

Well the sulking broody moody assistance in Westfield Vodafone on Sunday needs to have a serious think about why she should keep her job. Clearly she was having angst sitting with head in hand avoiding any eye contact, and certainly not willing to get off her behind and help anyone milling about in the store. Talk about a waste of space, someone clearly trading their time for money, and that's about it.

And unhelpful much? I'll say that her complete and total interaction was limited to "call customer service"

Why yes of course that's why I came to the store, so you can tell me to call a service desk, and then sit head in hand moody and broody. Don't offer me the desk phone, or to help me get what I want, just "call customer service". Useless.

I get it, you’re on minimal wage, it’s a weekend job, but really I’m wanting to purchase something not hunt around trying to find you, or listen in to your gabble with your colleagues whilst you pick your nails in the far back corner of the store. Worse of course is the “hello, how are you” assistance, as if that’s like the magic abracadabra of retail.

 I know that this is a personal preference thing, if I’m in a shop and need you I’ll come find you, don’t hover. If I come find you I need you, and I need you to need to help me

Anyway it's instances like these that make me regret changing, better the devil you know, and that this instance has left me feeling less than complimentary about Vodafone's otherwise wonderful service.

Either that or I'm just old and cranky. But Mrs Pdubyah wasn't too impressed either so I'm picking not.