So I called Vodafone in a desperate attempt to stop them activating my account – and consequently de-activating my T-Mobile account – until I get my phone (it’s a Samsung Omnia, just like I wanted. Vodafone had it for less than anyone else ever… even the woman at T-Mobile confessed that there was no way they could offer it that cheap and that she couldn’t believe they were doing it).
No chance. "We can’t actually cancel that. You’ll have to pick up the phone from the Royal Mail. They’re usually good at having it at the sorting office." Yes, but I’m at work. "After work." (that wasn’t a suggestion, by the way. It was just a statement of how things will be) The sorting office closes at HALF PAST ONE! I AM AT WORK! There followed the audible equivalent of a shrug. I want to reach into the phone and smack the surly scouse fuck on the end of the line. So I’m going to be without any kind of service at all for two days. "You need to pick the phone up from the sorting office." AS IF I AM ABLE! I’m screaming this in my head as I don’t like shouting at call centre people because I have been there. But, with hindsight, I kind of wish I did scream at him. He sounded like he deserved it.
So that’s it. I can’t collect the phone tomorrow morning because the buses are on strike and I can’t walk up to the sorting office and get to work at any reasonable time. Well. Hmm. If I get out of bed at half-six, maybe… But jeeeesus! This is VODAFONE’S FAULT! They didn’t ask me what delivery address I wanted, sent it to the billing address… now this. They’d better be solid freakin’ gold for the rest of my contract.