The shit hits the fan, but the fan hasn't been delivered. So it hits you instead.

I wrote this a while ago, but I thought that my previous post was so utterly tedious and depressing, that I should upload something cheerful, and maybe with a bit of cheeky humour too! Woo! Here we go, and excuse the horrendous formatting:

This post will either be horrendously long, or incredibly short. Depending on how angry I get at life; there's a distinct possibility that halfway through I will take my own life, leaving nothing but false-hope, misery, despair and a general loathing of internet shopping, in my wake. Please bear in mind how nothing this situation sounds, and then shut the fuck up because you know nothing.

*website omitted*.com - use it at your peril. Imsrsly. Like. Peril. Britain just downgraded the terror threat to "substantial", the peril threat at shitfactory.com is way beyond fucking critical. When I say peril. I mean anger. Of the customer. Towards them.

1st CD: an import (Whisper War, in case you weren't wondering). I will allow 4 weeks for delivery, simply because it's not the most well known CD and it is being imported a few thousand miles. Estimated delivery time is 1 -2 weeks. Price is under £11. Win win. Oh no. Wait. No. No. Ordered June 6th. I cancelled it today after Mrs. English (more on that later) told me "there is no foisf so fa delivery"; which I took to mean "I haven't a clue when it's going to be delivered because I can barely tie my own shoelaces." I think that's a given, really.

2nd CD: not an import, not a new CD (Elbow: The Seldom Seen Kid [a gift]). In fact, fairly old. Could have bought it at the shops. Couldn't be bothered. Laziness was my undoing. And apparently the fact in between ordering the other eight items and placing this one I changed my billing address to go to my University flat. Mmmm. That's fine. I can live with that. If it was my fault, or even if it wasn't. I don't care that much. First phonecall with the woman from Shitfactory (TM, btw), "Sorry, Sir, you send wrong place wrong time haha". Or something. Anyway, long story short, it was my fault, and even though my university had sent it back to them straight away I would have to wait for 21 days after delivery to re-order/get it refunded. Turns out: if you forget and leave it longer than 21 days, they don't just do it. They just sit there. Like chimps. But. Like. Less sexually appealing and more mentally deficient.

OK. So that's the story behind the two CD's. Now for the phonecalls. They're fun. These are for the latter CD.

1st Call: "Hello, Sir, you're speaking to Di-ana." (I'm quite clearly not, Lakshmi).

Call goes on, I'm told that it's been sent to the "wrong" (dripping with sarcasm, at "Di-ana"'s end) address; I get angry. I need to phone my university. I slam the phone down swearing like a brain unencumbered vacuous husk of humanity. Foolish of me really.

Call university: "It's been sent back." LULZ EPIC FUNS!

2nd Call to shitfactory: *On hold for 10 minutes*.

"Hello, Sir, you're speaking to Di-ana."

Fuck.

That was awkward. Moral of story: don't swear at people you're going to need to speak to again. I arranged for redelivery. Well, when I say redelivery. I mean, she told me to phone back after July 11 or something and I could get it sorted. Woe is me. I keep not a diary for trollish appointments with morons. I use my phone.

Phonecall for the former CD:

"Hello, Sir, you're speaking to Vicky." (Alright, that's enough, this is a farce of butchering; just give me your real name. Do you think that masquerading under a British pseudonym is going to convince anyone except people on the same cognitive playing-field as yourself, that you're not from where we know you are from?)

Call goes on. I'm calm. Love beta-blockers. Nom nom. Er. Lost my tack here kids. Er. Who cares. You aren't reading anyway. LULZ SPAMS. Anyway. She can't confirm when or if it will be delivered because it's......................... drumroll plz:

"Pre-order".

This would be the CD that was released on April 29. 2009. Yes. I forgot that April means August. And that 2009 means 2018. I am so dumb sometimes. Hey. At least I know one place that will employ me:

THE SHIT FACTORY.COM CALL CENTRE - WHERE COMMON SENSE COMES TO DIE.

Before I continue, let it be made plain and clear that I have no inherent dislike or irritation with outsourcing call centres. Mainly because I rarely have to deal with them, and I think if it saves money, why the hell not. However, what I do have an issue with, as I would were the call centre in Britain, is that the people on the receiving end of my phonecalls do not understand what I am saying. Now, ignoring the highfalutin: I have fairly good diction, I intonate fairly well, and I can enunciate with the toffiest of Brits. But. I talk fast. Fuck. Honestly. I end up as if I am speaking with a child.

"Sorry, can you start again?"

"Yes, I'm sure I can. I... need... to... know... when... or... if... this... CD... will... turn... up...!" "*Unbelievably garbled non-sensical crap*".

"K :(".

I'm sorry, but, as I say, I would have this issue in any service, and it is not based on any racial intolerance or anything like that. It's simply based on the premise that when I speak to someone on the phone, and have no phonetic dissonance issues, I expect to be understood at least 80% of the time. Exceptions when drunk/stoned/angry. I do talk fast, I'm well aware of that. But employing people who can't understand unless the caller talks monosyllabically is, frankly, ludicrous. And it's the same all over. Fuck that. Bank. Phone company (LOL THE IRONY!!!). These websites. FMLITF!

OK, last issue with internet shopping. Fair is fair, this is a different website. We'll call this one "good website but unreliable occasions.co.uk". Or "Gwoc" for short. Same principle, really. Ordered my CD (Mae: Singularity, in case you weren't interested) and waited with baited breathe for it to arrive. Best. Price. Ever. Was like £4 incl. postage (from abroad) or something ludicrous. Epic times = good news faux Jack, for sure? For no more! Lulz. Imsrsly, that's been well over a month as well; I'm almost 100% sure that when/if it arrives it's going to be a promo CD (having investigated what I judged to be a seemingly legitimate company, and still think they are, I just think they're cunts). I emailed them and asked if it was a promo CD, got reassured that they made "every effort to ensure all Promo CD's were labelled as such". I'm thinking: "Surely it's not that much effort to include that piece of fairly crucial information?"

Whatever. That reply came about 2 days after my email. That's fine. I am satiated. Still no CD. I'm asked to give a review (wonder which website this is...) and give them a sarcastic piece of drivel:

"I will review the item when it turns up. I'd love to say it arrived in the right condition, but unless the condition was "mysteriously absent" (which I'm almost positive it wasn't) then, I can't. As per delivery, yeah, good job, 6 days late and counting."

It's no wonder things never go right. I'm such an asshole.

However. After leaving that, I have not been contacted (after 2 emails more) as to the location of my vacant product. Not really worried, because it was a pittance; but it's the principle that I could have gone elsewhere (although not shitfactory.com) or walked to America and picked it up at Walmart or something. And been back quicker. Though, admittedly, a tad more expensive.

Moral of the story: Don't shop online. Walk the ocean.