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Saturday, March 18, 2006

WiFi-less in Chelsea

Fie! Why?

After a week of intermittent poaching of unsecured wireless links, I suddenly cannot see anything in my laptop's scanning of the area, not even the list of 4 or 5 protected links.

I must have hit a wrong button or raised some sort of firewall that now blocks me from receiving the signals.

Damn'd nuisiance because i'm left with trogging dahn the Kings Road to this sort of Mall that houses a post office, Virgin megastore and Subs-cum-Internet café.

It costs £1.00 for an hour at easyInternetCafé, which isn't bad except that it boasts a somewhat dour customer service rep who clearly caught us both on a bad day - see 'Comments'.

I go on - or *went* on, since I'm typing this section at the tail end of March 2008 - to say that "when he's here he sits in his back office prodding away at his keyboard and not even looking round when one has an enquiry ... and a whole lot of other silly comments that I feel a bit bad about now I'm getting to know the chap thru his Comments. So I'll delete the next childish paragraphs or three and cut straight to the bit where I get civil again and talk about having

" ... a raft of mails to post, waiting on my laptop for a spare wi-fi link to swim into my ken; also bags of cool fotos of my travels around town.

TV: they have 'Desperate Housewives' here which is discussed in all seriousness by a Brains Trust of smart young things who I suspect have been no closer to the great US of A than the nearest KFC. In fact, one of the more risible aspects of TV over here is the eagerness with which the Briterati pontificate on what's going on 'over there'.

More anon when I've *finally* extracted my mum's phone account # from the wretched bank and got BT to wire me up."

Also delete a whole lot of "Post-scripts" crap about being in a "mood"; also delete silly Post-post scripts about former CS buddies ... and definitely remove the ramblings about my zipping back and forth to London at a pace allowing me to look in on the Internet caff, pose as customer in need of help blah blah ... record it for YouTube et al ... all total silliness and, except that I had no booze around, I'd've assumed I was blotto when I penned that.

I might actually have been politer if I *had* been on the sauce, yeah?

Ref guarding camera from lite-fingered Subs staff: I don't believe I ever ate there. I'd walk the 12 minutes from the flat, mail whatever i had for the girls and then sidle over to the NetCaff.

I've worked in too many of those instant fooderies to feel comfortable gnawing into their product. I can believe that's what they themselves call their 'product' - eeuuww. And the pong pervades the Net stations.

Well, what an interesting post this turned out. When next over in Blighty, I must peek in on M'sieur Caretaker, if I dare. Speaking of next time in the UK, isnt this Terminal 2 an absolute farce? And I bet it'll be none the better even by 2012's Olympics.

"it boasts the surliest, most churlish unhelpful "staff" member i have come across in any trade and across all continents"

You are speaking to him .. :)

And I have never come across such offensive people as live in Sloane Square/Chelsea. The most irritating and insufferable people on the planet. They did a survey, even their accent grates .. :)

"when he's here he sits in his back office prodding away at his keyboard and not even looking round when one has an enquiry"

Maybe he also got fed up talking to peoples backs. Or in one case someones personal secretary. You see some people think they are too good to speak directly to the 'help'.

Maybe he got fed up trying to be helpfull to people only to be subjected to verbal abuse and physical assault.

And after getting demands to complain to the management AFTER spending time trying to acquiesce to peoples requests.

No, you can't plug your phone in, I'm not the electricity service.

No, I can't book your airline ticket for you.

No, I can't book you a taxi in Norway. I'm not a taxi service.

No, I don't know the route to Heathrow. I'm don't work for British Rail.

No, I can't do your invoice for you. I'm not an accountant.

No, I can't type out a letter to your solicitor. I'm not a lawyer.

No, I can't fill in your online Visa application. I'm not the emmigration service.

No, I won't give you a refund for that used ticket you picked up off the floor.
Excellent comment! Well done. Exactly how these things should be done.
I must highlight this to my two readers as an examplary response. Tally-ho!
Now I read my posting back, I can't believe anyone can be *that* surly or unhelpful - altho' why would i say that if i hadnt taken some heat? Perhaps I was missing my girls or hungry or thirsty? Anyway, I'll slip in there and tone it down. I do recall thinking that that part of London was overly full of foreign types and really quite unpleasant to walk around.
Sorry if I was less than helpfull Busker, but if you like I can email you and tell you chapter and verse what kind of abuse I was subject to.

No need tyvm and you've been more than helpful. No need to get too granular about the abuse - mine will do as a good example. Now to tidy this whole post up for wider consumption and tone down my wilder accusations. This is getting interesting. I wish Barclays Bank staff were as big and forgiving as you. Take care.
"I must record it for the lads and YouTube and pensioners' Sagazone, and MySpace ... and yadda yadda - the lot", Busker

Watch out the 'helpfull' Subway staff don't walk off with your mobile phone ..

You should also be aware that they refer to their produce as a 'shit sandwich' .. :)
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