My husband once threatened to shoot any BT man who set foot on our land. He had lost it. We were receiving bills and then final demands for something we’d not ordered and hadn’t been delivered. We were getting threatened by bailiffs. We hadn’t done anything?!?
Our broadband is with Vodafone. I had a BT line installed at my business, but didn’t need broadband as I was renting offices inside a complex and broadband was part of the package. Didn’t need it, didn’t order it, didn’t get it.
The saga had gone on and I’d had enough and so had John.
I’m a glass full to brimming kinda gal but this tipped me over the edge. Himself walked into the kitchen to find me, after a 45 minute wait listening to plinky plinky music and now talking to India – again – but this time in a voice squeaky with hysteria, and in tears. It was four months in.
He grabbed the phone, bellowing like a moose. He shouted about the state they’d reduced me to (pointing, actually, though from India, and over the phone, it’s doubtful it had the hoped-for impact).
Then it just came out. He said if he ever saw a BT man he’d ‘ruddy well shoot him.’
I was sitting snivelling but processing at the same time.
- Johnny F doesn’t have a gun
- He doesn’t know how to shoot
- He – clearly – doesn’t know how to control himself on the phone
I didn’t feel we’d moved forward any.
Anyway, time went on and eventually they turned up to collect the thing that wasn’t there because we’d never ordered it. That went on for six weeks too actually.
Then, after I’d sold the business, I needed a broadband line installing at home … and all JF’s chickens came home to roost. Or, nearer the mark, mine did.
I was standing – as luck would have it – by the chilled chickens aisle at my local supermarket when the mobile went. It was BT.
A bizarre conversation ensued. He pussy-footed around, talking to me in a low honeyed-whisper like a hostage negotiator and I became increasingly puzzled as he asked me questions about my husband and I kept banging on about internet connections. Mystified I asked him why he kept asking about JF.
“We have your property down as representing a threat to our personnel. Does your husband have a gun?”
“What?? What do you mean does my husband have a gun? Of course he doesn’t have a gun, why are you even asking me that?”
I watched as two old ladies’ eyes widened as they sideways-scuttled to take cover near the adult yoghurts.
Then it dawned on me. ‘Oh crap.’
“Well of course he doesn’t have a gun, no he was just very cross. He’s the sweetest guy, bleh bleh bleh.”
Anyway it was resolved. A BT man came out. JF wasn’t allowed near the teaspoons. BT man was offered tea and a penguin. All was fine.
Now we learn that BT/Openreach’s death grip on copper to the home (preventing other supplies to give us the good stuff, the fast stuff, the fibre optical cable uber swift stuff) is what’s crippling our businesses. It’s down to these guys we’re left buffering while others in industry outside the UK crack on. I’m all for a free market. So the question for BT is, Johnny F apart – why are you so chicken???