So, I have another very good reason for quasi-abandoning my blog lately.
(Besides playing Santa AND holiday hostess this past week…)
The last few weeks, my laptop has been infected with a heinous virus and it’s called…
The power supply on his computer fizzled out or some such and now, he’s on my “evil Microsoft” laptop no less than every second of every day since.
With my family in town and only ONE working computer among us, I’ve been sharing my laptop with SIX Internet addicted people.
Last week, Mike called around town for the replacement part for his computer. Only one of the bi-zillion techie shops off Tottenham Court claimed to have it stock and even called back to double confirm the serial number.
Of course, when Mike arrived pick it up the next day, they didn’t have it. They never did. Apparently, the sales guy only PRETENDED to know what Mike was asking for…
Uhhh, I guess, they didn’t think he would actually show up for the exact item he specifically requested to be set aside…
Thank goodness Mike is a much better person than me. MUCH BETTER. If I had been the one to make the 45 minute commute in early morning rush hour to be there as soon as the store opened for business only to be denied, I would have been beyond “call security”…
Meanwhile, Avery and I were running late for his appointment with the asthma specialist. We’ve waited over THREE months for this appointment, ever since his first asthma attack in August, and there was no way we were going to miss it.
I called the hospital to inform them that we may be a few minutes behind for our 9:05 appointment with Dr. S. The nurse or whoever answered said it was perfectly fine and just come in when we were ready.
We actually weren’t late at all, but it didn’t matter since Dr. S was NOT even there that day!
“What? Why were we not told this when we called earlier? I had specifically stated that we’re coming to see Dr. S? I even asked about him BY NAME,” I asked
After several rounds with the useless drones in the ironically named “patient services” department, their best explanation for the “mix up” was that I had only asked if it was okay to be late, NOT if the doctor was in today….
Oh, and they had moved our appointment to the day before when Dr. S was in, but didn’t bother to tell US about it. I guess I was supposed to just know that…Lovely!
Whether it’s dealing with National Healthcare or a total lack of common sense customer service, I find myself less and less tolerant of these daily frustrations as our departure date looms closer.
12 days and counting!
Sure, when I thought we’d be here for a while, I was willing to put up with it… slightly. Just another quirky adventure from our life in London — good for a blog post, great for a laugh… HA! HA! HA!
Obviously turning into a loud angry American doesn’t help matters. Apparently, my accent is hard to follow… or perhaps it’s the high-pitched, inaudible rants of frustration. Hmm…
What does seem to help, however, is my fake British accent. Bust it out and only then do I finally get somewhere.
(That is, if you call rounds of NHS Twenty Questions “getting somewhere”…)
Yes. You read that correctly. Fake. British. Accent.
It’s not even a good one like… say, Gwyneth Paltrow’s. It’s more like… well, the puppets from CBeebies’ “The Shiny Show“…
It was never even intended for public consumption, but one day it just came out during another (yet unblogged about ) incident with National Healthcare (there are lots of them) and it worked brilliantly in getting to a speedy resolution!
In fact, it even prompted some rare compassion.
“Oh my, I do understand. You poor dear. You must be so upset. Let’s get this sorted for you right away… will this afternoon work for you?”
For some reason, fake British accent works every single time. Strange, I know, but it makes me laugh so much that I totally forget how much angrier (and rantier) I would be otherwise.