Chemotherapy can be trying at times, but recent events have proved to me that having to deal with customer call centres can be equally exhausting.

Thanks to my present weakened state I succumbed to a smart phone salesman with a South African accent and signed up to a new deal.

Now my phone has been disconnected and my broadband is down to crawling and no one knows why!

I have spent hours talking to various call centres all over the world with the accompanying frustration of trying to understand an American male who couldn’t help me, so he put me through to India and a gentleman who couldn’t help, so back up to Hull, apparently, to talk to a lass who was also useless.

She redirected me to London and some woman equally without a clue, but charming, who sent me to South Africa again to allow me to repeat for the umpteenth time my details and the reason why I was undergoing a complete nervous breakdown.

This lady seemed quite unsympathetic, but promised to put me through to someone somewhere who could definitely get me reconnected.

I hung on for an eternity that was suddenly terminated when mercifully the battery on my mobile phone gasped its last gasp!

So again, recovered and recharged slightly, I tried and this time spoke to Philip up in Preston, and a very knowledgeable chap he seemed. He has promised to make my case a priority and I can actually, almost be nearly positive, and reassured, to a certain extent at least, that everything will be joyfully back to how it was before they carted me off for recycling into a telegraph pole and the world will be a happy place again, won’t it?

Trevor Murdin
Flemming Crescent
Leigh