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COMMUNICATION technology is, apparently, benefiting from the recession. People prefer to forgo eating out and holidays rather than say goodbye to Broadband, subscription channels, or their mobile phone. And I appear to be one of them.
It was my daughter who felt the moment had come to say goodbye to my pay-as-you-go “brick”, and step bravely into the world of monthly contracts. “There are some very good deals around now,” she said.
To someone like me, pay-as-you-go means save-as-you-go: that is, no contact with anyone unless it is absolutely essential — which is not a good business model. Because I don’t speak “mobile”, she said she would come with me and translate.
The first thing I noticed when I entered the shop was how old I felt. I had last seen people like this when taking school assemblies. And when I wrote my date of birth on the form, the young sales assistant choked, exclaiming “My God!” before adding hastily: “You don’t look that old, of course.” On the cusp of a deal, all must be done to protect the vanity of the customer, even an old one.
But no one could hold back the laughter when I pulled out my old phone and put it on the counter. All four salesmen fell about. Although I was glad to lift their spirits on a Saturday morning, I then got the usual comments about my “brick”. “Steal that from a building site?” “You should definitely return it to Stonehenge.” “You can still see the cement on it,” etc.
But, just when I thought I had faced the worst, my financial trustworthiness was brought into question. Up on the screen came the news that I was a credit liability. “Have you had a problem paying off loans?” asked the salesman.
“I’ve never had a loan.”
“On your credit card, perhaps?”
“I don’t have a credit card.”
“Ah, that will be it then. You’ve got
no credit history; so they don’t trust you.”
I therefore had to pay £100 deposit, to be repaid after six months if I proved trustworthy. Because I had never been in debt, I was dodgy goods.
A further humiliation occurred when my bank then stopped the payment of the £100. “Have you got £100 in your account?” asked the salesman gently.
“Yes,” I said testily. “Quite a bit more than that, in fact.”
“Well, the bank’s blocking it.”
Twenty minutes later, I was told that the bank had stopped the transaction because they suspected fraud. “You don’t usually engage in transactions like this,” the bank said. This was true, and, as eternity ticked by, I was beginning to see why. It was like a slow trudge through treacle.
But all’s well that ends well. Fifteen pounds a month for 500 free minutes and unlimited texts — I feel like a complete phoney at last.
www.simonparke.com
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