I am fortunate enough to be in the sunshine this week, albeit on business. Yes it's the annual sales and marketing conference, this time in Anaheim, California. I won't tell you about the conference as it's all Top Secret, but I will let you in on the tea and toast situation.
As we all know, there is nothing better than a Nice Cup of Tea and a Sitdown. So every morning, ridiculously early, my colleagues and I report to the ballroom for breakfast.
The mostly veteran waiting staff attempt to herd us in a certain way, which has given reign to military speak about digging in and not advancing forward.
We then proceed to the lines of buffet: scrambled egg, eggs benedict, ham, cereal, oatmeal (as porridge is called) and waffles. But no toast.
Back at the table, we ask for toast. On the first day a glorious plate of toast arrived, enough for everyone. Hurrah! But yesterday, just two slices.
Meanwhile we have put our request in for tea.
Yesterday it arrived, nice colour, and we were all happy. Until we tasted it. Cinnamon?! It was some sort of weird fruit tea. The waitress was very apologetic saying she had used the wrong tea bags, and was kind enough to make us a new pot. But sadly we were getting told to move ourselves to the arena so we hardly had time to drink it.
At least now we have two BKMs (best known methods): ask for toast for the table, and black tea also known as English breakfast tea,
See you soon!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday, April 25, 2008
Primitive marketing drives me round the bend
They say an Englishman's home in his castle, and I couldn't agree more. I would be more than happy to have a drawbridge and moat so that I could stop people leafleting the house at all hours of the day.
I had a real Victor Meldew moment today as I surveyed the detritus that makes up most of the post. I'd just spent a good half an hour de-cluttering the house. Considering there are only two of us, there is a lot to de-clutter! John's running gear and associated apparatus (water bottles, heart rate monitor, sheets of paper with stretching exercises, safety pins) seem to find their way all over the house. My hobby - scrapbooking and painting - also extends beyond the lean-to and you find buttons and glitter dust in the most unlikely places.
Anyway, I digress. Having done the de-cluttering, the post then arrived. For those who work at home, a pleasant milestone in the day. (Particularly if accompanied by the doorbell ringing, which means a nice parcel to open). Well, I had a subscription magazine; good, but it came in a plastic bag with several of those wretched inserts. A Lakeland catalogue. A Boden catalogue. More plastic, a whole sheaf of inserts from Lakeland, order forms, vouchers. Sheesh, why do these people still send me catalogues when they should KNOW they I only order online? Why are companies' marketing methods still so primitive? And both of them are always sending out new catalogues, as do Toast, whose "tastefully" lit catalogue is so gloomy the clothes look foul.
Then there was a letter from the bank. Apparently I have been chosen (along with millions of others) to be upgraded to some new type of account, which, reading between the lines, is just them promoting their call centre (which I already use) and having people interrogate me every time I enter the branch about why I haven't yet spoken to my "personal banking manager." Not to mention someone from the call centre ringing me and trying to talk me into loans, ISAs or whatever else they're trying to flog.
I noticed the letter gave a number to call if you didn't want to take advantage of this new service so I rang it. It took me to the call centre. Ideally, I should have been able to signal my "NO THANKS" by either entering some numbers into the phone, on my online bank account, or by ringing a number which was automatically answered by the "no thanks" person. Even better, I should have been offered the chance to opt in or opt out. But again, it's just poor marketing.
And while I'm ranting, I'll tell you another thing that makes me mad. MORI amd Gallup, the poll people, keep sending people round with clipboards to do surveys. They have called twice now about getting us to do a survey on buying new cars. It's quite hard to get rid of them, as if it's our duty to speak to them. One of them very indignantly said "we do pay you know,". I don't care what they're paying: I'm not divulging lots of private information which then goes God knows where.
I had a real Victor Meldew moment today as I surveyed the detritus that makes up most of the post. I'd just spent a good half an hour de-cluttering the house. Considering there are only two of us, there is a lot to de-clutter! John's running gear and associated apparatus (water bottles, heart rate monitor, sheets of paper with stretching exercises, safety pins) seem to find their way all over the house. My hobby - scrapbooking and painting - also extends beyond the lean-to and you find buttons and glitter dust in the most unlikely places.
Anyway, I digress. Having done the de-cluttering, the post then arrived. For those who work at home, a pleasant milestone in the day. (Particularly if accompanied by the doorbell ringing, which means a nice parcel to open). Well, I had a subscription magazine; good, but it came in a plastic bag with several of those wretched inserts. A Lakeland catalogue. A Boden catalogue. More plastic, a whole sheaf of inserts from Lakeland, order forms, vouchers. Sheesh, why do these people still send me catalogues when they should KNOW they I only order online? Why are companies' marketing methods still so primitive? And both of them are always sending out new catalogues, as do Toast, whose "tastefully" lit catalogue is so gloomy the clothes look foul.
Then there was a letter from the bank. Apparently I have been chosen (along with millions of others) to be upgraded to some new type of account, which, reading between the lines, is just them promoting their call centre (which I already use) and having people interrogate me every time I enter the branch about why I haven't yet spoken to my "personal banking manager." Not to mention someone from the call centre ringing me and trying to talk me into loans, ISAs or whatever else they're trying to flog.
I noticed the letter gave a number to call if you didn't want to take advantage of this new service so I rang it. It took me to the call centre. Ideally, I should have been able to signal my "NO THANKS" by either entering some numbers into the phone, on my online bank account, or by ringing a number which was automatically answered by the "no thanks" person. Even better, I should have been offered the chance to opt in or opt out. But again, it's just poor marketing.
And while I'm ranting, I'll tell you another thing that makes me mad. MORI amd Gallup, the poll people, keep sending people round with clipboards to do surveys. They have called twice now about getting us to do a survey on buying new cars. It's quite hard to get rid of them, as if it's our duty to speak to them. One of them very indignantly said "we do pay you know,". I don't care what they're paying: I'm not divulging lots of private information which then goes God knows where.
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