Juliet England: A tale of two complaints

We all know that customer service for us those of us with fabric ears is far from everything it should be. This was highlighted recently in a feature on BBC’s Rip Off Britain (available on iPlayer until the end of October – watch from 29 minutes onwards.)

I experienced the sharp end of poor customer service as a deaf person myself this summer, when a return trip from a party on a non-existent rail replacement bus wasn’t the routine affair it should have been. Indeed, I ended up relying on the kindness of a stranger just to get home.

The worst of it was not being able to hear the operator at the other end of the ‘help’ point intercom at the station where I was stranded, although, as it turned out, it had no useful information to impart anyway.

I wrote to First Great Western to complain about the experience. It took a while, but they did reply, expressing concern that I’d had such a miserable time of it, adding that it was ‘hard not to be entertained by your writing style’. (Why, thank you. Flattery will get you everywhere.)

There followed a little jousting about whether the right written information about the rail replacement bus that never rocked up was displayed correctly. I maintain to this day that it most definitely was not.

More interestingly, it seems you can now text this rail operator on 88215 about a wide range of issues, including that mythical bus or “assistance not showing up, an out of order toilet, or if someone feels unsafe or uncomfortable”.

In extreme circumstances, it seems you can even text the buffet car and get a cup of tea delivered to your seat, although that sounds frankly implausible.

I could have done with the service last year, in fact, when I was waiting alone late at night at another isolated station, and a man started talking to me, asking my name and commenting on my hair so that I felt most uneasy.

Anyway, one of the worst things about the episode of the great bus disaster was that although the ‘help’ point was worse than useless, as a deaf person I had no way of even knowing that. I was virtually on my knees begging them to text me, but they point-blank refused.

Further contact with the press office at GWR reveals that the text service was launched two years ago, in October 2016. The number is given out to customers booking assisted travel, with the texts answered by the social media team. GWR also tells me this service is subject to potential change in the future, and that this will be notified in due course.

But, because it’s not widely advertised, I wasn’t given this number, indeed didn’t even know the service existed.

Tale two concerns the delivery of my groceries from Tesco. I know that I don’t always hear the doorbell on my ground-floor flat, so keep a window open and listen out when an order is due.

To be fair, they’re usually pretty good at announcing their arrival with a text message, as specified on my delivery notes. But, recently, they knocked, texted – and then cleared off, all within about five minutes before I had a chance to respond.

I was like a disgruntled, and very hungry, bear left without their lunch. An enraged Twitter exchange followed, resulting in a tenner’s voucher, which was at least something.

And I did get a letter (an actual one – real paper and ink!) of apology.

“The driver promises he knocked and called on numerous occasions,” wrote one Chris West, Leading Dotcom Manager (whatever that means) for my area. (Not so, unless you by ‘numerous occasions’ you mean once, but we’ll move on.)

West continues: “The driving manager has briefed the team to explain the importance of following all delivery instructions” to avoid this happening again.

And, to be fair, next time the delivery went like the proverbial clockwork.

However, I’ve also experienced the frustrations of missing the guy reading the electric meter, and had to trek across town to collect a parcel after failing to hear the postman.

I’m not alone. My friend Alex Orlov, who is deaf, lives on the third floor of a central Birmingham apartment building. People have to get through three separate doorways to reach his flat.

He tells me: “My delivery notes for Tesco say to text me, but they never do. I often have to reschedule Royal Mail deliveries because I don’t hear the postman. If I’m expecting something, I have to watch out all the time – it’s stressful.

“Even when my Personal Independence Payment (PIP) assessor came, and I left a note on the door, she still called!”

It seems there’s some way to go before deaf customers can truly feel looked after.

Read more of Juliet’s articles for us here.

Juliet England does freelance social media and PR work for cSeeker.