Friday, 11 April 2014

Damn. Stymied by the simplest thing.

First, the good news. My new phone has arrived. She does look nice! Like a bride all in white, and ready for the rest of her life.

Vodafone were excellent during the pre-delivery stage. They gave me a transcript of exactly what was said by me, and to me, in the discussion that took place before I firmly placed my order for the phone. The transcript constitutes complete evidence of what was said on both sides. That's good practice. I'm impressed. I also got an emailed copy of the order, and another email when the order was confirmed (after a credit check, presumably).

Then they kept in touch by both email and text in the run-up to the actual delivery. They gave me the means to track how the delivery was going this morning - a live map to show where the chappie was, and how many drop-offs he still had to make before reaching my front door. At the outset he had 50 calls to make before getting to me. By noon, only ten calls left to do. The map showed he was closing in, like Pacman. He rung my doorbell at 12.35pm. Vodafone had said delivery would take place between noon and 1.00pm, so this was spot on.

I signed for the package, opened it, carefully inspected the contents, satisfied myself that all was pristine and just as it should be, and then, with surgical precision, cut across the seals and opened the box.

And there she was, my Demelza.

Written instructions were minimal. But to a seasoned smartphone user, hardly necessary. I gently prised Demelza's back plate off with a fingernail, and saw where battery, SIM card and microSD card had to be inserted. The microSD card slid in beautifully. The battery went in beautifully.

I had a bit of trouble with the SIM card though...the slot didn't seem quite big enough. Hmm, hmm. It's not going to go in. Now why not?

Then an awful thought occurred to me. The SIM card that I'd taken out of my old phone, Eloise, was normal-sized. Demelza needed a microSIM!


Back to Vodafone. I saw (in one of their emails) a definite promise that where a different-sized SIM card was needed, it would be sent with the rest of the order. It hadn't been.

A plaintive but brisk message from me produced an apology, and they said they would try to get the missing SIM card to me by next day (Saturday).

Well, I hope they do, otherwise this will take the shine off my new-phone experience. At least the person at Vodafone's end commiserated, and said she'd feel just as disappointed. But, of course, I'll be lucky if the SIM card arrives before Monday. It's not the end of the world, though, and I'm now looking at two pleasant social events to cheer me up over the weekend. No need to sit around in the dark, grinding my teeth in rage and frustration.

Thank goodness I hadn't wiped my old phone! I'm sure I wouldn't really have done this before checking that all systems were go on Demelza, but if I had, I would have been phoneless at least overnight. Oh, horror, horror, horror! How could one live through that? No texts? Survival would simply not be possible.

So Eloise has had a brief reprieve, and must do duty one more night at least. So be it.

Meanwhile poor Demelza lies prostrate in a cupboard like a dead thing, unable to function, unable to fulfil her destiny - like a bride taken to the very altar, only to be denied marriage because the ring has been left behind. Will Vodafone deliver in time to save her?

What a cliff-hanger. Don't go away.


  1. Horror, horror, horror? Heaven, heaven, heaven not to be pestered for a couple of days I'd say. When on holiday my phone is with me but it is switched off. I switch it on again when in the country or on my way home. I can't wait for the day I'll not need it then it will only get switched on if I want to make a call

    Shirley Anne x

  2. Well, some of us are not so much in demand, and appreciate the odd text. it's not surprising: I have nothing that anybody wants, such as the ability to fix things.


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