Telephone support

This is a summary of my experience earlier this week with Virgin Media.

The background; I'd just bought a wireless router and wanted to connect it. Should be a simple job; however, it wouldn't connect to the internet and was asking me for a username and password- even though Virgin's website said I didn't need one.

I know my username, but having lost the little card with my password that I was given when I first signed up some years ago, I decided to phone up to ask for this simple, tiny but apparently vital piece of information to be either given to me or reset.

So...

1. Phone number that Virgin Media website says is the helpline for ex-Telewest customers. Get asked by chirpy prerecorded woman to enter my Virgin telephone number. Can't, because I don't have a Virgin telephone. Only have a mobile phone, so I enter my mobile number instead.


2. Get told by chirpy but now slightly patronising prerecorded woman that I must have pressed the wrong button, and asked to enter my phone number again- or just the area code, if I don't know my own number. Don't like the insinuation that I either don't know my own phone number, or can't operate a telephone properly. Enter "020" instead.


3. More menu options. Press buttons as prompted.


4. Hold music...


5. Speak to a human. Explain problem. Get told that I need to speak to someone in a different department.


6. Hold music...


7. Speak to another human. Explain problem. Get told that I'm talking to the ex-NTL customers department who don't have access to the information I require, so I need to speak to someone else.


8. Hold music...


9. Speak to someone else. Explain problem. Get told that I need to speak to someone else in a different department. Explain that I've been on the phone for 45 minutes so far, and that she's the third person to tell me that- woman is very apologetic, and promises me that she will check before she puts me through, and absolutely will not put me through to the wrong person.


10. Hold music...


11. Different hold music.


12. Music stops. Not sure if I've been cut off or not, but I seem to still be connected to… something. But that "something" might just be the O2 network. While possibly on hold, or possibly just holding a phone to my ear that's doing nothing more than beaming electromagnetic radiation through my skull, send email to Virgin to see if that's a quicker way to get an answer. (There's no email address on their site, so I have to use a web form, which I don't really trust because I don't have any confirmation or record of what I've sent. Although I did enter my username, I'm uncomfortable with the assumption that I use their email service in the same way that they assumed I use their telephone service when I first called.)


13. Give it 10 minutes (so the timer on my phone is a round hour), then hang up. Console myself with the fact that she didn't put me through to the wrong person, which was what she promised (in word, if not in spirit...)


14. Call again. Repeat the procedure about being told I don't know my own phone number and am too stupid to press the buttons on a phone by chirpy but patronising prerecorded woman. As I'm on a mobile, contemplate getting a land line that's cheaper to be on hold with. (Decide that if I do, it will be with BT.)


15. Navigate "press 1 to speak to someone about..." automated menus again.


16. Get transferred to an engaged tone. Hang up.


17. By now, I'm familiar with the process of being told I don't know my own number, so I just enter the 020 area code straight away. Feel smart, as though I'm somehow beating the system and winning a few brief moments of my life back. Get told I am too stupid to operate a phone again, and asked to just enter my area code if I'm too dense to remember my own telephone number. By this stage, I am nurturing a deep, burning hatred for the chirpy patronising woman...


18. Navigate the automated menu. Speak to a human. Get told I need to call a different number for technical support.


19. Decide that my evening's too precious for this. Give up. Admit defeat. Unplug wireless router and discover that I can no longer connect to the internet. Spend ages unplugging, replugging, wire swapping and otherwise faffing around with wires and boxes. Get nowhere...


20. Vent frustrations by playing violent computer game.


21. Round 2- Get up early the next morning, stumble over to the computer, and call the different number I'd been given.


22. Different voice- not the chirpy but patronising woman; this is a carefully rehearsed voice that has obviously had elocution lessons. One of those ones where the computer recognises what you're saying and asks simple "yes" and "no" questions. "Are you having problems with your internet connection?" and so on.


23. Questions get increasingly specific. Go from being impressed at it's accuracy to being utterly baffled. Realise I've not really woken up properly yet, and I'm actually in the middle of a conversation with a human being.


24. Get given another number. Call it. Get through to bored sounding technical person.
    Spend half an hour going through various things to check, click, unplug, plug in, turn off and turn on again. Get nowhere.


25. Technician asks if I have internet security. Realise that in my frustration I didn't check the Firewall- the one thing I know about networking is that when there's a problem with a network, it's ALWAYS the firewall. Tell support guy that I've got to go to work, but that I'll call back later.


26. Turn off firewall. Internet works again. Curse softly to myself...


27. Go to work. Cancel my evening's plans, so that I can deal with the work I was planning to do the previous night (which relied on having an internet connection.)


28. Come home. Phone support number. Speak to a human. Human fixes problem in about 5 minutes by resetting the modem connection and turning the modem and router off and on again. Router stops asking for password, and Google appears on my computer screen.

Breathe sigh of relief and get started on last nights work…

Postscript…

I still haven't received a response to the email I sent on a web form I didn't trust; I know that the problem's been fixed, but I'm not exactly convinced that Virgin have enough internal efficiency to know it's been fixed too... So I guess the moral of this story is, when building a website, always ensure that your users receive confirmation that they have done whatever it is that they have done.

(There's probably a lesson to be learnt about telephone support there too.)

Update

I received this email, a week (within just a couple of hours) of the email I sent to Virgin. Well, at least I now know that it was received…

Thanks for getting in touch with the Virgin Media support team.

Thanks for your patience waiting for us to reply to your email and
please accept our sincere apologies for the delay. Rest assured that we
are working very hard to answer every customer enquiry, and to ensure
that our reply times reduce back to normal as soon as possible.

Thanks for your email to Virgin Media about the problems you've had with
setting up your wireless router.

We've taken a look at the notes on your account, and it looks like
you've already spoken to one of my colleagues about this issue.




If there's anything else we can help with, please let us know.

Kind regards,