Next time you try to complain and in response some poorly-trained surly sod working for a diseased organisation in a sick building gives you a form to fill in that needs three years of audited financial statements, your life story in block letters, your race (the one none of us win), your gender (ditto) and a desire for annexures that prove you are alive even though you have been standing there in the queue in all your glory for three hours and have already given the man behind glass your certified ID book, phone bill, bank statements for six months and your shopping list by mistake (twice) to copy, use this form (below) in response.
Please note that Ts and Cs have been banned from the English language and the recipient of the form must please show you their licence to be alive.
Appropriate moments to use such forms include:
* When your financial institution (no wonder they call them that, they’re all mental), request that you provide them with proof that you own your house that is bonded to them, and, after having done this, (a gargantuan effort that succeeds despite the fact that EVERYONE uses your PO Box address), they get your address wrong on the statements they send you for the said mortgage and then one day a year later advise by foreclosure that even though you pay them on time every time you don’t actually own anything because the address is wrong.
* When a broker with a diamond ring on his big toe (Spanish leather sandals and a yellow blazer) attempts to sell you a life policy whose premiums escalate but whose cover remains static and when you query this he says he was just trying to illustrate a point.
* When the credit bureau that is ruining your life by reporting on a missing payment you messed up on five and half years ago as if it was a murder, tries to sell you a subscription to your own track record.
* When an estate attorney asks if you if your dearly departed was really not married to someone else.
* When your housekeeper is informed by postage certified crazy mail that unless she advises them otherwise, said funeral company will make automatic deductions off her account with a leading department store so that she can have “an easy free burial” when she pegs, penniless, because she did not know how to let them know that she thought they were the scum of the earth because the call centre does not answer their phone.
* When Tracker’s robot calls your landline and an electronic voice gives you 3.30am promotional speak and you can’t get it to stop except by leaving said phone off hook.
Add your own suggestions and please write and tell me the reaction the poor teller has, when, when giving you a form to complete in triplicate, you give him/her this one to complete at the same time.
If all else fails, make up a new ACRONYM. Make them speak your language. And make them write in a RED pen and then tell them afterwards they should have signed every page so they must do it again.
Author
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