Will You Never Learn, ADT?

Oh ADT – what were you thinking? Didn’t we already have this discussion last year? Didn’t we resolve the situation to everyone’s (my) satisfaction? Didn’t we sign off on the dotted line with a big fat “case closed”?

I say we did. Which then begs the question: “What the deuce do you think you’re doing now?”

Remember, dear ADT, in the Summer of 2010, when we met? My first – Mr ADT Salesman, you pattered your way into my heart with promises of free intruder alarms and low-cost monitoring. I relented. I gave in. I couldn’t resist the tiny monthly fee, the gratis shiny alarm box and the prompt and free installation.

Remember how we laughed, Mr ADT Engineer, as you installed my alarm, and I told you about my former professional relationship with Mr Chubb Alarms. Remember that heady conversation where you pledged that you would “never be able to pull the wool” over my eyes, as I knew all about the pitfalls and detractors of alarm companies.

Remember the signing of the paperwork? That special moment where I read the small print, and noted that my monthly fee was a 2-year commitment, and that when…nay… if…I wanted to end our relationship at the end of those beautiful first days, then I could – with no remorse, no recrimination and no pleas to stay. I could walk away with, as a memento of our time together, my lovely bells-only alarm box.

Remember how I said how much I admired the deal? How impressed I was at your generosity. We even talked about how, if I moved, I would get a new box. A shinier one, and at no cost to me.

ADT, I felt wanted. Valued. Desired.

But then, it went wrong, didn’t it ADT? It just went wrong.

The honeymoon period was over, and the box began to show faults. I called you – more than once. Do you remember, Mr ADT Call Centre Man? Do you remember how I told you that we were in line fault? That our alarm was no longer being monitored? Do you remember how you denied it at first, and then admitted it? There was a fault.

And it was yours.

You had left my line unwatched. Unloved. For five lonely months. You claimed that you had written and tried to call – but then I discovered the truth. You were sending letters to another address. The correspondence meant for me had been going to another – on my own street.

At first you tried to laugh it off – tried to tell me it was an honest mistake. But we both knew, right then, that this was the beginning of the end for us. Do you remember, Mr ADT Call Centre Man, how you offered me a paltry one month’s free monitoring? As if that would compensate for the hurt I had suffered. You then stood down – you realised your fatal error, and you offered me a full refund of those wasted months. You offered me compensation for the following six months.

I accepted your offer.

You lied.

There was no compensation. No refund came my way. And, to add insult to my poor, injured alarm-pride, you sent me letters telling me I owed you money.

I OWED YOU!?

So I spoke to Mrs ADT Supervisor. I explained everything about the breakdown of our relationship. She held my hand through that terrible, dark period of not-knowing. And she made things alright.

The money came into my account. I terminated our arrangement. I told you I never wanted to see you again. The box remained on my wall – a bitter reminder of what might have been. No monitoring. Just lonely bells.

Months passed and I started to heal. When I set my alarm, there was no message of line fault. No plea to call an engineer – just an alarm, and gradually I forgot the pain of those months before.

And now – ADT – now this? Now you send a letter, telling me that you want my box back. That it doesn’t belong to me, and that you only let me have it whilst our relationship included monitoring. You tell me I must pay, or you will remove it.

And do you know what I say to you? I say this: “Screw you, ADT.”

You have taken enough from me.

I will not allow you to remove the last vestiges of my dignity by scurrilously unscrewing my box. For it is, mine, ADT. It is mine.

Do you remember, when we signed that form together? Me and you, Mr ADT Salesman? Do you remember what it said? It said that should our monitoring relationship falter after 24 months together, then the box would belong to me.

I know that’s what it said, because I found it and read it earlier on tonight.

So, my darling ADT, you can take your indignant letter and your passive-aggressive direct debit form, and you can shove them up your bells

The box is mine, I owe you nothing and I am free.

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Facebook, Banality, Wit and Worrying

I have entered a potentially dangerously boring phase of my life – and you might be a future victim of it.

Allow me to explain;

I have always prided myself on my ability to communicate interesting things with relevance and humour. Not everyone is going to agree that this is the case, but by and large, I try and talk about interesting things in a way that people will engage in. It’s my thing. If you ask my nearest and dearest what my defining quality is, some will say I’m a performer, others will say I’m a bit of a (lapsed) comedian, but most will say I’m a writer.

I have spent long hours over many years, honing and perfecting a style of writing that I hope engages people, and ensnares them into reading whatever it is I have to say. I’ve never really been dull on Facebook, and have never posted a picture of my dinner with the words “nom, nom, nom” next to it. I’ve also never written “going to bed” or “my son used the potty today” or “nearly summer” or any kind of approximation of those violations against wit. I’m more likely to utilise colourful language to explain a dispute with an alarm company, or choice allegations against a poor tour operator. Or make a joke. I make a lot of jokes, and none of them are copied and pasted, unless I am quoting Monty Python, which is not a sin.

But this is all changing, and it is for two reasons.

1) My sister gave birth last week to my first nephew. I am overcome with emotion about this and.. I can’t help sharing it with people who probably don’t care

2) I am on a diet, and doing really rather well. I have refrained from posting my “results” thus far, and have not yet resorted to the attention-seeking “lost 4lbs whoop whoop” kind of bollocks that I’m always reading…but I’m dangerously close to doing so and will, no doubt, soon be sharing it with people who probably don’t care.

Facebook is mental. It’s just a place where anyone with access to the internet can show off a pile of random crap to all and sundry. Some conversations that people have on Facebook, completely enthral me with their banality and stupidity, and right at the top of my Facebook fist-itching hates, are:

  1. Photographs of someone’s boring wanky dinner, described (as mentioned) by “nom” or “yum.” Especially “nom.”
  2. Boring, boring, boring commentary-style statuses, whereby “friends” narrate their every dullsville move throughout a given time period
  3. Enigmatic, moody attention-seeking postings along the lines of: “So fed up by it all.” or “Well, that’s it. Don’t mess with me, because you’ll regret it.” These are inevitably followed by baa-lamb responses (usually around 7-10 in number) of “what’s wrong, babe?” “what’s up?” “what’s happened?” And let me tell you, if you – the status originator – then respond with: “I’ll inbox you,” then you will move several notches up my shit-list.
  4. Poor grammar and spelling. This includes bloody text-speak, and “lol.”                                                                                      YOU ARE NOT LAUGHING OUT LOUD. AND I WOULD WAGER THAT YOU HAVE NEVER EVER IN YOUR LIFE ROLLED ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING. AND IF YOUR ARSE IS STILL ATTACHED TO YOU, YOU’VE NEVER LAUGHED THAT OFF EITHER. This section also includes those of you who write a couple of angry sentences about something or someone that has pissed you off, and then end it with “rant over.”  Point 1) It probably wasn’t a rant – we know a rant when we see one. Point 2)  If you have to tell us it was over, then it was a bad rant, and probably wasn’t one anyway. See Point 1.
  5. The constant posting of stupid copied pictures and “thought of the day” type crap. I don’t mind something funny or relevant or newsworthy, but I am so sick of “don’t forget who you trod on, on the way up, as they’ll be there to meet you on the way down” kind of crap. Yawn. If you can’t think of something intelligent, poignant or impressive yourself, then just post a picture of a cat yawning.
  6. Pictures of cats yawning
  7. Racist or sexist or inciteful or offensive or insulting or disablist lazy Daily Mail type shite.
  8. Constant updates on the progress of your children. They are amazing. To you. You honestly don’t need to tell us “I love my boys” every 5 minutes. We’ll just assume that you do
  9. People who post c&p statuses where you are supposed to feel guilty if you don’t repost it immediately, because it is in aid of cancer/babies dying/autism or whatever. These end in “99% of people won’t post – will you?” …     “No” would be the short answer. This also includes the rounds of “Facebook is changing its privacy settings…please read on if you don’t want your privacy compromised…” bollocks. It is untrue. www. snopes.com. Seriously.
  10. People who post EVERY SINGLE PHOTOGRAPH THAT THEY EVER TAKE. Even if they’re blurred, upside down, identical to the last 6 that were posted, of nothing, and crap. This includes people who pout. Sort through your photos, people.

I could go on, but I don’t know if anyone is still here? The thing is, I use FB all the time. And I’m probably more than guilty of other people’s pet hates, and no doubt there are people who block me from time to time, because they can’t be arsed with my moany campaign statuses. But if there is one thing I can’t stand, it is hackneyed, trite, unoriginal banality, and I have a (fairly low key) one-woman mission to inject a bit of humour into a Facebook day.

Well, I did. Until now.

So, please, those of you who are friends with me on FB – do enjoy my upcoming regular updates on my nephew’s bowel movements, and how cute and small he is. I will accompany them with photographs. And, in a couple of months, you will have my weight loss progress to look forward to, because I’m holding the announcements in by the skin of my teeth only.

I know you’re not really interested. I’m not interested in much of what I read on Facebook either. But, we’re there and we’re using it, so it’s going to happen. Read it, roll your eyes, and mourn the passing of my witticisms, because …here comes boring.

Rant over.

You Shouldnt Of Gone Their. (Agh, my eyes….my eyes…)

I am a pedant. And I judge people who don’t use correct grammar and punctuation.

And I am aware that I am setting myself up for criticism here, because, having announced the above, I really need to ensure that this post is 100% accurate. Not 110%, because THAT’S NOT A THING, but 100%. Accurate.
Here’s the thing; I just get annoyed at common mistakes that people shouldn’t make. I’m not talking about knowing everything about syntax and word order, or even subject and verb agreements and the rules of punctuation and spacing. I’m not even talking about (and here, I shudder) “text speak”, because I do understand that space and time are premium on much social networking.

No, I am talking about your basic, bog-standard errors, where people should bloody well know better.

For example:

  • There. Their. They’re.

They may sound the same – but they don’t mean the same thing. Putting the wrong one of them in a sentence, will change the meaning of the sentence:
  It’s over there/That is theirs/They’re over there, with their children

  • Could have. Should have. Would have.

Not Could of. Should of. Would of. < These don’t mean anything. It is HAVE.

  • Your and You’re

That is yours/You’re right. It is.

Look, basically, stick an apostrophe in when you’re (you are) replacing a letter. Simple.
I could go on about this for hours on end, citing examples and getting wound up about approximately 75% of my “friends” on Facebook, but I won’t. There are forums and places for people like me, where we can be outraged and incredulous together, and laugh smugly at all the people who get things wrong, and despair at the future. So don’t worry about that – I’m covered in my pedantry.

But, I will leave you with this photograph, as it is the reason I was thinking about bad grammar, spelling and punctuation today.

If you’re a teenager on a social networking site, or a person who wants to spout vitriol on a You Tube video, or a forum contributor, who doesn’t have spell check, then, to be honest, I am a little bit annoyed at you, but I won’t let it bother me. It’s your webspace, your issue and your problem. Or not. And it won’t make huge amounts of difference to my daily life, other than to contribute to a general sighing on my part.

If you are a multi-national company, with branding across the globe, and product placements and advertising within reach of millions of people, then mistakes like this are unforgivable: photo

Sort yourself out, Galaxy. Or You’reself. So their.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you didn’t get it – this should say: “When you buy this Galaxy Bubbles pack, you’re helping to reduce…”