I have been dithering for months trying to decide whether to switch from dial-up to Broadband. Every time I got to the point of committing to a contract, I’d read another negative report on the provider I had chosen. There are horror stories of people’s computers being contaminated with spy ware or technical support centres providing incorrect information. Providers failing to meet promised dates for connections. Not replacing defective modems, etc, etc. In reality people are more likely to spend time posting negative reports on the Internet, to relieve their frustration over difficulties incurred; than satisfied customers spending time reporting everything was trouble free.
I’ve had trouble free service using Tesco dial-up, so I finally decided to switch to Tesco Broadband. Within two days of placing the order I was informed the activation date would be 4th January, (the timing is controlled by BT not Tesco). I was due to receive the start-up pack containing the modem and instructions the day before activation, but in fact its come already. So I’m all set up and waiting for the 4th. I’ve been reading and re-reading the instructions. It says before I install the Broadband program, I have to switch off the installed Tesco Security program. Looked and looked but couldn’t see an obvious way of switching the Tesco Internet Security off. Emailed Tesco’s Broadband technical support team and got back ambiguous instructions. Emailed seeking clarification and received contradictory instructions.
Thought the only thing to do was to confront Tesco face to face, to get clear and precise instructions on how to switch off Tesco Internet Security. Went to the local Tesco Supermarket, and asked the girl at the checkout how to switch it off. She looked at me as if I was mad. She said she didn’t know, and called the Security Guard. Explained to him all I wanted to know was how to take a security tag off a computer. I was so relieved I finally met someone who knew what he was talking about. He explained the security tags are placed on the computers to stop them from being stolen. They can only be removed at the checkout, using a special gadget, (I’ve seen it been used to remove the plastic security tags off whisky bottles). So all I have to do is take my computer to the supermarket, and they’ll remove the Tesco Internet Security. I wonder if I’ll have to take the monitor, speakers, printer, webcam and scanner. I should have asked him. I told him he was wasting his time being a security guard, he should be working in the Technical Support Centre.
Can’t expect the wife to carry everything by herself, I’ll phone for a taxi.
Showing posts with label Tesco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tesco. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 January 2007
Wednesday, 27 December 2006
Retribution
Following on from yesterday’s blog. More about the Tesco’s Rich Chocolate Fudge Yule Log. Boy am I in trouble! The wife caught me trying to get rid of what's left by feeding it to her dog. Accused me of poisoning her darling Poppet. I pleaded with her that it was too sweet to eat. She said I should pour natural yogurt over it to make it sour. The woman must really hate me, what a concoction - don’t try it, its absolutely vile. But what am I to do, I’m not allowed to throw what’s left away? Is it my Karma?
I’ve already had my say, about the TV programmes shown this Christmas. But I must have my final grump. Logic would have it, the more TV channels there are, greater the choice, the higher the chance of getting a programme I want to see. But it doesn’t work that way. The more channels there are, the more frustrated I get in not finding a single programme I want to see. But, ####, fart, to turn the knife in the wound - the more channels there are, the higher the chance, when there is a good programme on I want to see, there will be good programmes on at least four other channels. Two good programmes - watch one record the other - but four good programmes, bloody frustration. Also, also, when there is a choice, with the channel selector in hand I spend time switching between channels - the result I never see one complete programme. Is this some form of punishment?
Talking about punishment, I overheard two women talking. One said she was glad there hadn’t been any big disaster this Christmas - there always seems to be planes crashing, boats or ferries sinking and two years ago there was the Tsunami. The other said “Thank God”. What did she mean?
What did she think - is God a cantankerous Grumpy Old Fart who vents his spleen by raining havoc down on the human race?
“Got a bloody hangover. What can I do? I know I’ll punish the human race. Heads it’s a Natural disaster, tails it’s a plane crash”.
This isn’t a fanciful idea; even the law recognises “Acts of God”. Something happens, your house gets damaged, you claim on your insurance policy - sorry you’re not covered for damage caused by “Acts of God”.
The idea of God is ingrained deep in our psyche. Even atheists in times of stress will exclaim, “oh God“, or “please God”. Totally irrational but that’s how it is.
Did God have such a lousy Christmas that He is venting His anger by making me eat the rest of the Tesco’s Rich Chocolate Fudge Yule Log?
I’ve already had my say, about the TV programmes shown this Christmas. But I must have my final grump. Logic would have it, the more TV channels there are, greater the choice, the higher the chance of getting a programme I want to see. But it doesn’t work that way. The more channels there are, the more frustrated I get in not finding a single programme I want to see. But, ####, fart, to turn the knife in the wound - the more channels there are, the higher the chance, when there is a good programme on I want to see, there will be good programmes on at least four other channels. Two good programmes - watch one record the other - but four good programmes, bloody frustration. Also, also, when there is a choice, with the channel selector in hand I spend time switching between channels - the result I never see one complete programme. Is this some form of punishment?
Talking about punishment, I overheard two women talking. One said she was glad there hadn’t been any big disaster this Christmas - there always seems to be planes crashing, boats or ferries sinking and two years ago there was the Tsunami. The other said “Thank God”. What did she mean?
What did she think - is God a cantankerous Grumpy Old Fart who vents his spleen by raining havoc down on the human race?
“Got a bloody hangover. What can I do? I know I’ll punish the human race. Heads it’s a Natural disaster, tails it’s a plane crash”.
This isn’t a fanciful idea; even the law recognises “Acts of God”. Something happens, your house gets damaged, you claim on your insurance policy - sorry you’re not covered for damage caused by “Acts of God”.
The idea of God is ingrained deep in our psyche. Even atheists in times of stress will exclaim, “oh God“, or “please God”. Totally irrational but that’s how it is.
Did God have such a lousy Christmas that He is venting His anger by making me eat the rest of the Tesco’s Rich Chocolate Fudge Yule Log?
Tuesday, 26 December 2006
Christmas - the morning after
Christmas finished for another year. Today, thousands are saying “Well that’s it for another year”, “Was it worth it?”.
I knew I should have got a goose from St James’s Park. The one we bought from Iceland was - how can I describe it - stuffing packed in goose flavoured skin. Don’t ask if the meat was tasty. Never found any on my plate!! All I can tell you is there were gallons of fat at the bottom of the baking tin. They should be called Canada Grease rather than Canada Geese. I’ll have to make a note to ask Jack next door for a veggie recipe for next year.
The biggest disappointment was TESCO’s finest Rich Chocolate Fudge Yule Log, coco flavoured chewing gum fermented in extra sweet molasses. I am not saying it was heavy, but when I put a small slice on my plate, not only did the plate break, but the table leg buckled. Another entry for the “Not to Get Next Year List”. While my wife isn't looking, I’ll have to give what’s left to the dog. Its not that I hate the dog, but if it’s a choice of me or it - it’s a none question.
So the Queen recorded her Annual Address from Southwark Cathedral - I hope the Bishop was sober. It would have been embarrassing to find him throwing the Queen’s toys out of her car.
(Last week, after attending a Christmas party at the Irish Embassy the Bishop of Southwark, was found throwing toys out of the back seat of a car he had broken into. One week latter he still claims he has no recollection of the evening - some party!!!.)
What is it with TV companies. Through a combination of willpower, gritting of teeth and pray people managed to go through yesterday without quarrelling with the kids, telling the Mother-in-law that she is an old witch, or their Daughter-in-law that she is a lousy cook. Then 9pm the TV master plan explodes on the nation. There must have been collaboration between three TV companies because at 9 o’clock there was a choice of:
On BBC1, -"The Vicar of Dibley" - liked by the old folk
ITV1, -"Doc Martin" - perfect family entertainment
Film4, -"Gladiator" - favourite of testosterone super charged males.
Such a clever devious plan, if it had been a choice between only two programmes one could be watched, and the other recoded. But a choice of three programmes, cruel. But even more, notice how the programmes were selected to cause maximum irritation and disagreement between men vs. women, young vs. old.
It would be no good saying, Gladiator can be seen on DVD. Through their action TV programmers ensured thousands of people went to bed disgruntled. And to make it even worse, and to rub salt in the wound, they put absolute rubbish on today. So in thousands of homes the chorus after looking at the TV programme listings is “bloody rubbish, not one, not one bloody decent programme, and last night they put three on the same time, I’m off down the pub”.
As a result of rubbish served up on TV, I decided after months of agonising to switch from dial-up to broadband, so can spend more time on the web. But what happens? I tell you what happens, last night on TV there were adverts for PC World’s Sale. They are selling laptops for £100’s less than I paid a year ago. So what? So what, its put the doubt back in my mind, that as soon as I sign up for Broadband, a new provider will come along offering the same service at a fraction of the cost. Problems, bloody problems. I’m off down the pub.
I knew I should have got a goose from St James’s Park. The one we bought from Iceland was - how can I describe it - stuffing packed in goose flavoured skin. Don’t ask if the meat was tasty. Never found any on my plate!! All I can tell you is there were gallons of fat at the bottom of the baking tin. They should be called Canada Grease rather than Canada Geese. I’ll have to make a note to ask Jack next door for a veggie recipe for next year.
The biggest disappointment was TESCO’s finest Rich Chocolate Fudge Yule Log, coco flavoured chewing gum fermented in extra sweet molasses. I am not saying it was heavy, but when I put a small slice on my plate, not only did the plate break, but the table leg buckled. Another entry for the “Not to Get Next Year List”. While my wife isn't looking, I’ll have to give what’s left to the dog. Its not that I hate the dog, but if it’s a choice of me or it - it’s a none question.
So the Queen recorded her Annual Address from Southwark Cathedral - I hope the Bishop was sober. It would have been embarrassing to find him throwing the Queen’s toys out of her car.
(Last week, after attending a Christmas party at the Irish Embassy the Bishop of Southwark, was found throwing toys out of the back seat of a car he had broken into. One week latter he still claims he has no recollection of the evening - some party!!!.)
What is it with TV companies. Through a combination of willpower, gritting of teeth and pray people managed to go through yesterday without quarrelling with the kids, telling the Mother-in-law that she is an old witch, or their Daughter-in-law that she is a lousy cook. Then 9pm the TV master plan explodes on the nation. There must have been collaboration between three TV companies because at 9 o’clock there was a choice of:
On BBC1, -"The Vicar of Dibley" - liked by the old folk
ITV1, -"Doc Martin" - perfect family entertainment
Film4, -"Gladiator" - favourite of testosterone super charged males.
Such a clever devious plan, if it had been a choice between only two programmes one could be watched, and the other recoded. But a choice of three programmes, cruel. But even more, notice how the programmes were selected to cause maximum irritation and disagreement between men vs. women, young vs. old.
It would be no good saying, Gladiator can be seen on DVD. Through their action TV programmers ensured thousands of people went to bed disgruntled. And to make it even worse, and to rub salt in the wound, they put absolute rubbish on today. So in thousands of homes the chorus after looking at the TV programme listings is “bloody rubbish, not one, not one bloody decent programme, and last night they put three on the same time, I’m off down the pub”.
As a result of rubbish served up on TV, I decided after months of agonising to switch from dial-up to broadband, so can spend more time on the web. But what happens? I tell you what happens, last night on TV there were adverts for PC World’s Sale. They are selling laptops for £100’s less than I paid a year ago. So what? So what, its put the doubt back in my mind, that as soon as I sign up for Broadband, a new provider will come along offering the same service at a fraction of the cost. Problems, bloody problems. I’m off down the pub.
Monday, 25 December 2006
Merry Christmas & The Queen
Merry Christmas to you all.
Everybody is supposed to be merry - humbug.
People, who are happy being alone the rest of the year, are made to feel anti-social or an outcast if they are by themselves on Christmas day.
While others are forced to smile and look happy in the company of relatives they detested.
So much for the Christmas spirit.
Had to get up at 6.60 am to put the goose in the oven. Hope it’s worth it. My wife made me buy a goose, I wanted to get one from St. James’s Park, there are enough Canada geese there - they wouldn’t miss one. Trouble is, they all belong to the Queen. How come, as soon as a wild goose lands in a Royal Park it becomes the Queen’s property? She also owns all the swans in England.
Last summer we were walking through St James’s Park, when we saw an old woman feeding the ducks, swans and geese. She was giving a running commentary, in an East European accent.
"The bloody Queen, she sit in her bloody palace, she no feed the bloody ducks."
Actually she didn’t say bloody, but “vludy”.
"The vludy Queen, she sit in her vludy palace, she no feed the vludy ducks. Me a vludy pensioner have to go to vludy Tesco Supermarket to buy vludy bread to feed the vludy Queen’s vludy ducks, while she sit in her vludy palace. Me with my vludy bad feet, have to walk all the vludy way here, and she no vludy come. She no care if the vludy ducks vludy starve."
I explained to her how kind the Queen was to let her walk in the Queen’s Park. Not only that but she even lets people use her toilet. Westminster Council charge 50p to use the toilets. The Queen lets people use her toilets for free. Yes free. You can sit on a Royal toilet for free. Not only that she keeps them so clean. She must have to get up very early everyday to clean them.
I can just picture Her Royal Majesty, 6 o’clock in the morning, scarf tied round her head, bucket in one hand, mop in the other, her dogs yapping at her feet, scurrying across from Buckingham Palace to St James’s Park to clean the toilets. Then back to the Palace, exchange the scarf for a Crown, make tea, toast and boil an egg for Prince Phillip. Then after all that, she has to start ruling the country.
Christmas day, she has to cook for all the family - heard Princes Ann doesn’t lift a figure to help. After lunch, when she should be putting her feet up, she has to get on her bicycle to ride to the BBC studios to give her annual address to the nation. Then cycle back to the palace, wash the pots, pans and dishes after lunch, (you would think that while she was away, the rest of the family would wash the dishes, but no), then make the tea. They tell me she makes a beautiful victoria sponge cake. But her mince pies are only average.
I tell you, she does a wonderful job. And I’ll tell her so the next time I see her at the supermarket. She normally shops on Tuesdays, while Prince Philip goes to the pub to play cribbage and darts.
Everybody is supposed to be merry - humbug.
People, who are happy being alone the rest of the year, are made to feel anti-social or an outcast if they are by themselves on Christmas day.
While others are forced to smile and look happy in the company of relatives they detested.
So much for the Christmas spirit.
Had to get up at 6.60 am to put the goose in the oven. Hope it’s worth it. My wife made me buy a goose, I wanted to get one from St. James’s Park, there are enough Canada geese there - they wouldn’t miss one. Trouble is, they all belong to the Queen. How come, as soon as a wild goose lands in a Royal Park it becomes the Queen’s property? She also owns all the swans in England.
Last summer we were walking through St James’s Park, when we saw an old woman feeding the ducks, swans and geese. She was giving a running commentary, in an East European accent.
"The bloody Queen, she sit in her bloody palace, she no feed the bloody ducks."
Actually she didn’t say bloody, but “vludy”.
"The vludy Queen, she sit in her vludy palace, she no feed the vludy ducks. Me a vludy pensioner have to go to vludy Tesco Supermarket to buy vludy bread to feed the vludy Queen’s vludy ducks, while she sit in her vludy palace. Me with my vludy bad feet, have to walk all the vludy way here, and she no vludy come. She no care if the vludy ducks vludy starve."
I explained to her how kind the Queen was to let her walk in the Queen’s Park. Not only that but she even lets people use her toilet. Westminster Council charge 50p to use the toilets. The Queen lets people use her toilets for free. Yes free. You can sit on a Royal toilet for free. Not only that she keeps them so clean. She must have to get up very early everyday to clean them.
I can just picture Her Royal Majesty, 6 o’clock in the morning, scarf tied round her head, bucket in one hand, mop in the other, her dogs yapping at her feet, scurrying across from Buckingham Palace to St James’s Park to clean the toilets. Then back to the Palace, exchange the scarf for a Crown, make tea, toast and boil an egg for Prince Phillip. Then after all that, she has to start ruling the country.
Christmas day, she has to cook for all the family - heard Princes Ann doesn’t lift a figure to help. After lunch, when she should be putting her feet up, she has to get on her bicycle to ride to the BBC studios to give her annual address to the nation. Then cycle back to the palace, wash the pots, pans and dishes after lunch, (you would think that while she was away, the rest of the family would wash the dishes, but no), then make the tea. They tell me she makes a beautiful victoria sponge cake. But her mince pies are only average.
I tell you, she does a wonderful job. And I’ll tell her so the next time I see her at the supermarket. She normally shops on Tuesdays, while Prince Philip goes to the pub to play cribbage and darts.
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