Rage against the Machine
Right, I have a coupla veins hanging out the side of my head. Because of Rage. Red blooded, Bubbling, Boiling Red Hot RAGE!
On Saturday Night I purchased SimCity Online at a MegaOnline Corporate E-Store (EA Store). I downloaded it anyway and started playing it away happily.
I was in my glory, building houses & playing Ruler of the City. I had built an incredible city where all my Sims were ecstatic and I had millions in the bank, when the floggin’ thing crashes on me. Fair enough, you expect it to happen now and then, but it proceeded to crash every 10 minutes thereafter. I was so fed up with it that I went online to see if I could get a refund, the website said I was entitled to a refund up to a month after purchase, great stuff.
So I click onto the Customer Service Area of the Site. I click on the Request a refund link, it doesn’t work, it brings me back to the Home Page, repeatedly, every time I tried this, I got more and more frustrated.
I click on the Contact Us tab, it asks me for my User Name, eh, I wasn’t provided with a User Name nor did I create one when I opened the account the previous day.
So I click on “Request a reminder for your User Name” and I get an email which should give me it. I open up the email and it thanks me for being a valued customer, and goes on to say, here is your User Name:
- Followed by a blank!
Ah you’re taking the piss now.
I really couldn’t believe what was unravelling before my very eyes. I respond to the email like an Anti-Christ saying something like gimme the god damn User Name wilya? And I get an immediate response saying:
“Greetings,
The e-mail address you have written to is unable to receive incoming messages. Your response is important to us……” blah blah blah
So I desperately comb the website for a phone number of any kind. No joy! Can you believe it?
At this point it’s the early hours of the morning and I am way too wound up to go to sleep. I was knackered at work today because I only got 4 and three-quarters hours sleep because of this.
So I start googling options to try to find the floggin’ number, I then discover to my horror that I am not alone, half the nation are on forums foaming at the mouth because of this company.
I swear ta God, I am taking this all the way. I am not letting them get away with this…
Broken Dreams…
I am full of broken dreams; clattering & shattering & stumbling down the road in no particular direction…
My last egg…
I had the most disastrous morning this morning I’m not coddin’ ya. Everything started off ok in so far as my alarm went off & I got out of bed & into the shower. It all went pear shaped after that. I discovered I had only an egg to my name.
Look into my fridge, no prizes for guessing which shelf is mine…
I didn’t have any money. But I thought If I bought a loaf of bread I could bring an egg sandwich into work with me. And a loaf a bread wouldn’t break the bank.
This was Good thinking…
I bolt down to the shop anyway to find it closed. Blast it! I figure it’ll open in ten minutes (7:00am) so I run back to my flat to make a cuppa cha n do stuff.
So before I go out to the shop again at 7:00am, I decide to use my time wisely & put the egg into a saucepan in preparation for this egg sandwich.
Being tied for time, I legged it to the shop again. Twas open, so I go in only to find that they’re out of bread. Blast it anyway – I grab a pack of pitta bread instead and make my way back to the flat. When I reach the front door & look for the keys I realise they are not with me. Now one might argue at this point that it’s not a problem and you’ll be thinking “ah shur, just ring the bell and the flatmates will come down and letchya in” – but those of you who know me & who have been to my flat know only too well that the door bell doesn’t work (even if it did, we wouldn’t answer it). We don’t answer the phone either. One time the fire alarm went off downstairs at about 4:00am in the morning and no one bothered to get out of bed to investigate.
So I thumped on the door anyway, full blasht. The flatmates were conked out in their beds two floors up… Zzzzzz
No answer. Didn’t have my phone on me either to ring Bob London & tell him to let me in. I was screwed and me last egg was on it’s last legs boiling away in the saucepan inside. I decided to fill my lungs with air and give a good shout inta the letterbox. I let out an almerciful yelp that resounded around the neighbourhood. I was in luck & was let in so I could tend to me darling egg. The poor unfortunate thing was sitting in steam when I rounded the corner.
After the egg was tended to, I ransack the place looking for my keys… no where to be found. I borrow my flat mates keys and run back to the shop to see if I left them in there. Low and behold they were on the counter. Race back to my flat.
At this stage, I was officially running late. I slit open the pitta bread only to find a mouldy piece of pitta looking out at me.
Feck!
Back to the shop again – visit numero four-o in the space of a half an hour – scandalised! Yer manno must a thought I had the hots for him. Anyway, I swap pitta’s with him & run back to the flat. May I just point out that I’m sweating like a paedo in a playground at this point.
I make my sambo & glance at the clock…
shock horror! Look at the time & I’ve to be at work at 8:00am and it’s a serious cycling distance from where I am standing!
Grab me helmet & me bike & cycle like Stephen Roche to work only to get there and realise that I forgot my egg sandwich!
