To: complaints_department@next.co.uk Subject: Is Mr Glover There?
Dear Complaints Department
Good evening! I’d love to have this email disturb you in the privacy of your own home and private time, but I guess I will have to settle for using your formal complaints procedure for now.
First off, I’d like to congratulate your Next Directory team for their persistance.
Despite you telephoning my home EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY – including weekends – and me explaining to your call centre that Mr Glover does NOT own this telephone number and is unlikely to randomly move in with us in the forseable future, you STILL keep calling again!
“Can we speak to Mr Glover?” Yes, you probably fucking well can, if you’d try calling his number for once!
I don’t know where your call centre is? Possibly India, but more likely you’ve farmed it out to a pack of retarded mongs who can’t understand a very simple explaination that Mr ‘Fucking’ Glover does not live here, and the equally simple instruction to REMOVE US FROM YOUR DATABASE AND NEVER CALL AGAIN!
You’ll notice I’ve put the key points in capital letters. I shall also highlight them in bold, and make the font a bit larger for you.
Even getting through to your supervisor or manager when called has no effect. I think this may be because nobody working your telephones actually knows what a supervisor or manager is?
Whilst it was somewhat amusing watching my girlfriend on Thursday evening trying to spell out the word M-A-N-A-G-E-R to your latest phone spakka, she managed to cut us off before anything was transferred.
This evening (which is a Sunday), I manager to charm your latest operative and got through to Ismail – who is apparently the manager/supervisor/king there. He’s told me that he’ll leave a message with your Credit Control Department to have our number removed.
So I shall be trying to speak to Ismail again when you useless cunts call us again tomorrow evening.
In this year-long horror story, we have tried several methods to get you to fuck off. Seriously – listen back to the calls to this number and you’ll hear every tactic from blind swearing rage to pleading, to lies and awkwardness. we’ve told you we’re on the Telephone Preference Service. We’ve told you that we will be taking legal action under the Threat Harrassment Act.
You still call us.
I’ll be making sure this email gets exposure through my blogs, because I honestly am at my wits end with you twats.
When you do call back… well, let’s face it, there’s nothing else we can do to stop you, is there? So we’re done being nice.
I shall sum this up for you just one more time, before we will proper fuck with the heads of your call centre staff, and might even speak to a solicitor or the Police:
There is NO ‘Mr Glover’ living at this address, or using this telephone number: **********.
We DO NOT live at the address of 33 wherever it is. I should also point out that under the Data Protection laws your staff shouldn’t be giving out a home address to people who have told you hundreds of times that they are NOT the people on your account.
Finally, we do not hold a Next Directory account. And because you are a load of spasticated cunts who have made my life a misery for the last year, you can be pretty sure that we never will be customers.
Was that too harsh? How about you ban telephone number ********** from your systems, then?
And for fucks sake don’t give us a courtesy call to tell us you’re finally removing this number from your database, because I’m already exasperated to the point of near incandescence.
Seriously.
Just fuck off and don’t call us ever again.
OK?
Your sincerely
NOT Mr Fucking Glover – the owner of telephone number ***********
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