Why I should have got an apple.

It is always a day of reflection and fateful resignation when we realise that we have become our parents. You always hear people saying: oh god, I sound like my father, or do I look like my mother wearing this (I asked the latter question only once – stockings and pumps, what?) And for many people this is something that is quite funny really, albeit thought-provoking, but does not cause much inner turmoil, assuming your parent was not a serial killer or sociopath.

For me, the similarity is with my father and the trait is that of non-physical rage and a disposition of complaining. I have for most of my life been one to avoid complaining publicly. I receive poor service or eat the bloodied steak I wanted medium well and smile and tip when leaving. In the car or at home the poor unsuspecting dinner date will bear the brunt of the intensified private complaint. Anyway, recently I began to shift to that oh so regrettable public sphere of complaining. I guess it is because those close to you tire of all the moaning and you have some misguided belief that your complaint has some effect in changing things. It doesn’t. I have worked in customer service for a little while and when a complaint is fielded, besides the discreet yet very enthusiastic simulation of masturbation that occurs, the rest is just resentment and lip service apologies. However, unable to learn from my own or another’s experience, I continue to frustratingly beat paths of difficult and pointless terrains.

To the matter at hand. I am an owner of a Dell computer. This was a relationship I entered into last year in October. I was excited and optimistic as a first time buyer with a new founded desire to become a bit of a techie.  This optimism quite swiftly shifted to sheer regret and apple envy. The laptop’s hard drive experienced a SMART event and generally began behaving quite strangely. I subsequently entered into a very heated relationship with the Dell technical support team. After returning the laptop post alleged repairs and coaxing me into purchasing a further super warranty and attempting to sell me some more memory whilst I was in the throes of consumer agony caused me to begin a vengeful telephonic attack on the UK support team in India. I began asking those passive aggressive rhetorical questions like:

How do you think I feel about this experience with Dell?

Can you tell by the tone of my voice that I am not overjoyed at what you have said to me?

Do you purposefully create inferior products to enrage your customers?

Is your company run by a band of fascists?

These questions then turned to poetic commentaries on their corporate character, like:

I regard Dell as a deceitful beast that lurks in the shadows waylaying innocents at every turn.

My journey through this quagmire of ineffective problem solving is something akin to Wayne Rooney attempting to remain couth at a Royal Dinner Party – impossible.

I feel like I have been the coquettish little concubine of Dell’s corporate shafting – once optimistic but now sore and used.

The result is that I wasted over two and a half hours on the phone, sent an inordinate number of emails, ranted to ‘management’ and revealed to them the error of their ways only to be told that they were sorry and would very seriously consider what I had told them. Oh, he was probably simulating as he said it.