Dear Mark and Sue
Re: 19.22 FGW service from Paddington to Oxford, 8/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: eight minutes.
Sue! Hello! It's been... too long. It's so lovely to hear from you again! So Mark has decided to take a (no-doubt) well-earned break. A period of rest and recuperation. A recharging of the batteries. Good! Well done! Everyone deserves a holiday - and goodness knows he seems to have timed it well. I wouldn't mind skipping out of this country for a while just now too. Would that I could.
First Great Western trains will miss him, Sue. I will miss him. I'm sure you'll miss him. But - every cloud and all that: and the railway's loss would seem to be our gain. I'm looking forward to entering a new phase in our relationship, Sue: we're going to become pen pals! I shall be on my best behaviour!
So, to business. Last night... what can we say about last night? The less the better, probably. It was not a good night for the country, was it, Sue? My delayed train journey home seems rather trivial in comparison to the looting of our capital city. My lost eight minutes... what is it compared to the flames above Croydon and Enfield, the smashed glass of Clapham and Ealing, the broken bricks and blood of Hackney and Lewisham?
My delay: it's trivial and pointless and unimportant in that context, Sue. Of course it is. That was real and awful and painful and sad and angry... and I'm just another poor sap shelling out for shoddy service, day in, day out.
Perhaps I should learn my place, eh? Perhaps I should just learn to take my medicine like a man. Perhaps I should just accept that paying over the odds for a second-rate service is how things have to be. Perhaps every time my train is delayed by eight minutes, I should be relieved it's not delayed by nine minutes. Or 10, 20, 30 minutes. Perhaps I should be congratulating you it's not worse. What do you think? Am I ungrateful, Sue?
Perhaps I am. Perhaps I'm being hideously selfish, expecting your company to provide what I pay you for.
But on the other hand... what can I do? I'm committed now, Sue! I'm in too deep! Once I began to believe in the crazy idea that you should run your trains according to your timetables, I crossed a line. And I can't cross back, Sue! I can't skip a letter every time something awful happens, can I? There's a principle to uphold!
The fact is, for better or worse, we've gone and created ourselves an ideal, Sue. A dream of a better tomorrow. A tomorrow in which you do what I pay you to do. Call me deluded, call me naive, call me a hopeless romantic... but we have to stay firm, Sue! We have to stay strong and stick to our course! There must be no Plan B!
And the fact is... as from last night, when my train home slowed and shuddered and shivered to a stop by the cooling towers of Didcot (basking in the gold and bronze of another August sunset), you owe me a further eight minutes, Sue.
There were only eight minutes, admittedly, but they were my eight minutes. They weren't yours to take.
Anyway. Much as I'd love to keep chatting, time flies and I must get on. Let's hope things calm down tonight. Sincerely. But then I'm sure it will all be fine... why, I read only this morning that Dave and Boris have flown back from their hols especially early to take control of the commotion.
We can all relax, Sue: the Eton boys are here to sort it all out! I'm convinced that now the chaps from the Bullingdon Club have returned to the country, all those disaffected oiks will see sense and start behaving themselves again.
Let's just hope Mark doesn't feel the need to do the same to sort out the mess his company is in, eh?
Au revoir!
Dom
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
A reply from Sue! Be still, my beating heart!
Dear Dom
Mark is away for ten days, so has asked me to respond to you in his
absence.
I am so sorry for the delay you encountered last Thursday evening on our
19:22 to Oxford. This was due to an earlier problem, where a 'hot axle box
detector' (which is a piece of equipment set on the track side) was
triggered by a fault on a freight train, near Didcot Parkway.
Services came to a stand while the situation was investigated. This didn't
take long to clear, but long enough to cause a few minutes delay to a
number of trains, and the 19:22 was one of those affected.
Frequent delays, regardless of how long, or the cause, will of course test
our customers patience. We don't want this any more than you do.
We discussed some of the challenges we face when we met last week, but are
determined to perform as well as you have every right to expect.
I hope you have better journeys this week.
Best wishes
Sue
Mark is away for ten days, so has asked me to respond to you in his
absence.
I am so sorry for the delay you encountered last Thursday evening on our
19:22 to Oxford. This was due to an earlier problem, where a 'hot axle box
detector' (which is a piece of equipment set on the track side) was
triggered by a fault on a freight train, near Didcot Parkway.
Services came to a stand while the situation was investigated. This didn't
take long to clear, but long enough to cause a few minutes delay to a
number of trains, and the 19:22 was one of those affected.
Frequent delays, regardless of how long, or the cause, will of course test
our customers patience. We don't want this any more than you do.
We discussed some of the challenges we face when we met last week, but are
determined to perform as well as you have every right to expect.
I hope you have better journeys this week.
Best wishes
Sue
Friday, 5 August 2011
4 August 2011. Letter 14
Dear Mark and Sue
Re: 19.22 FGW service from Paddington to Oxford, 4/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: six minutes
Sshhh... listen. Can you hear that? Cock an ear, Mark. Cup your shell-like, Sue. Lean in. Closer. Listen...
Can you hear it?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Do you know what it is? That drip, drip, drip... it's the sound of the Colorado river, Mark. Way back in the day. Back when it was a stream, a trickle in the Arizona desert. Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth! (Probably.) That, mes petites geologists, is the sound of the drip that would forge the Grand Canyon. Behold! Look upon this drip, ye mighty, and despair!
(You know what else this drip is? It's a metaphor, Sue: another metaphor! Me and my metaphors! I love 'em, Sue! I'd like to think my old English teacher Mr Berry would be proud of all these metaphors I keep tossing your way. And not metaphorically proud, either. Actually proud. Proud as (metaphorical) punch! He was ace, Mr Berry. Actually ace. He was the man who gave me a love of language: he's the one who planted the, er, acorn that would grow into the great metaphorical oak of my career in journalism. You can lay the blame (or credit) for all my metaphors at the metaphorical feet of Mr Berry!)
Anyway. That drip... the Grand Canyon, Mark, greatest, grandest, grooviest (see what I did there!) canyon of them all: it wasn't always so. That land used to be flat. Once upon a time, back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, there was no canyon, grand or otherwise. But the drip, drip, drip... it wore away at the desert floor, it scored and furrowed and burrowed into the ground - until it created the Grand Canyon. It took a while, but it did it.
Amazing, isn't it, what a steady accumulation of little drips can produce?
Last night my train home was delayed by six minutes, Mark. I know, I know, it's not a glamorous delay, it's not one of your all-singing, all-dancing cancellations, one of your Hollywood half-hour jobs... it wasn't even one of your common-or-garden 11 minute standards. But it is another delay, Sue. It's another relentless drip in the relentless stream of drips that wears away at your customers, day-in, day-out.
It wears us away, it wears us down, it wears us out, Mark.
But on a positive note: your last letter was lovely! Thankyou! Who knew refunds were available like that! And compensation for unexpected coach travel! Alright! Ring the bell, Mark, I'm on the bus! I mean, train!
Au revoir!
Dom
Re: 19.22 FGW service from Paddington to Oxford, 4/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: six minutes
Sshhh... listen. Can you hear that? Cock an ear, Mark. Cup your shell-like, Sue. Lean in. Closer. Listen...
Can you hear it?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Do you know what it is? That drip, drip, drip... it's the sound of the Colorado river, Mark. Way back in the day. Back when it was a stream, a trickle in the Arizona desert. Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth! (Probably.) That, mes petites geologists, is the sound of the drip that would forge the Grand Canyon. Behold! Look upon this drip, ye mighty, and despair!
(You know what else this drip is? It's a metaphor, Sue: another metaphor! Me and my metaphors! I love 'em, Sue! I'd like to think my old English teacher Mr Berry would be proud of all these metaphors I keep tossing your way. And not metaphorically proud, either. Actually proud. Proud as (metaphorical) punch! He was ace, Mr Berry. Actually ace. He was the man who gave me a love of language: he's the one who planted the, er, acorn that would grow into the great metaphorical oak of my career in journalism. You can lay the blame (or credit) for all my metaphors at the metaphorical feet of Mr Berry!)
Anyway. That drip... the Grand Canyon, Mark, greatest, grandest, grooviest (see what I did there!) canyon of them all: it wasn't always so. That land used to be flat. Once upon a time, back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, there was no canyon, grand or otherwise. But the drip, drip, drip... it wore away at the desert floor, it scored and furrowed and burrowed into the ground - until it created the Grand Canyon. It took a while, but it did it.
Amazing, isn't it, what a steady accumulation of little drips can produce?
Last night my train home was delayed by six minutes, Mark. I know, I know, it's not a glamorous delay, it's not one of your all-singing, all-dancing cancellations, one of your Hollywood half-hour jobs... it wasn't even one of your common-or-garden 11 minute standards. But it is another delay, Sue. It's another relentless drip in the relentless stream of drips that wears away at your customers, day-in, day-out.
It wears us away, it wears us down, it wears us out, Mark.
But on a positive note: your last letter was lovely! Thankyou! Who knew refunds were available like that! And compensation for unexpected coach travel! Alright! Ring the bell, Mark, I'm on the bus! I mean, train!
Au revoir!
Dom
A new reply from Mark! And he's got compensation on his mind!
Dear Dom
Thank you for your email and I am very sorry for the disruption to our services from Oxford yesterday morning. It wasn't good enough.
Our 05:02 service from Worcester came to a stand at Oxford with a brake problem (a full investigation is underway). This effectively blocked the line and led to the three cancellations. Road transport was arranged (expected to be in place by 08:00) but I appreciate why you chose to leave to find alternative means of getting yourself to London.
I have no hesitation in offering to refund the coach fare for you along with the proportional daily rate of your ticket (£10.00). We'll need confirmation of your address so if you can send this to Dani in our Customer Relations team (dani.bowers@firstgroup.com), she will make the necessary arrangements.
I was also interested in your opinion of the coach however we would much prefer you could rely on our service to get you to and from London.
I appreciate the impression you have been left with of the reliability of our fleet, I accept there have been too many issues in recent weeks and I have put in place a plan to make effective modifications to the fleet to improve matters. I have also challenged my team to address any mechanical issues that do arise in a quicker and more efficient way.
Kind regards
Mark Hopwood
Managing Director
Thank you for your email and I am very sorry for the disruption to our services from Oxford yesterday morning. It wasn't good enough.
Our 05:02 service from Worcester came to a stand at Oxford with a brake problem (a full investigation is underway). This effectively blocked the line and led to the three cancellations. Road transport was arranged (expected to be in place by 08:00) but I appreciate why you chose to leave to find alternative means of getting yourself to London.
I have no hesitation in offering to refund the coach fare for you along with the proportional daily rate of your ticket (£10.00). We'll need confirmation of your address so if you can send this to Dani in our Customer Relations team (dani.bowers@firstgroup.com), she will make the necessary arrangements.
I was also interested in your opinion of the coach however we would much prefer you could rely on our service to get you to and from London.
I appreciate the impression you have been left with of the reliability of our fleet, I accept there have been too many issues in recent weeks and I have put in place a plan to make effective modifications to the fleet to improve matters. I have also challenged my team to address any mechanical issues that do arise in a quicker and more efficient way.
Kind regards
Mark Hopwood
Managing Director
Thursday, 4 August 2011
4 August 2012. Letter 13
Dear Mark and Sue
Re: 07.52 / 07.56 / 08.06 FGW services from Oxford to Paddington , 4/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: err...
Word up, homeys! What's shakin'?
I'll be straight with you from the start Mark, I'll level with you from the get-go, Sue: I don't know how to handle this one.
The thing is: I'm in a state, a tizz, a quandary. I'm in a ball of confusion. (What is a ball of confusion anyway? I mean, obviously it's a Temptations song from 1970 - later covered by Tina Turner and featuring in the excellent film Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit... but, I mean, what actually is a ball of confusion? A ball? Of confusion? What the dickens were they on about?)
The thing is: I didn't even catch one of your trains this morning, Mark. Don't get me wrong: I tried, alright. I tried so hard, Sue! I turned up bright and breezy and eager and early, chomping at the bit like some super-keen, stud-ready thoroughbred... you should have seen me, Sue! I was ready, willing and able to catch one of your trains. But I couldn't!
I couldn't catch the 07.52 - because it was cancelled. So I stuck around for the 07.56 - that got cancelled too. When the 08.06 joined them in the by-now oh-so-fashionable cancelled club, I walked, Mark. I turned around and walked out of there, all the way to the bus station, where I paid a further £15 and caught a coach to London.
Don't get me wrong. Obviously I didn't have to catch a coach. I didn't have to pay my extra £15 to get to London today. I could have stuck it out and stuck around. A nice man at the station did tell me things were likely to get moving by about 8.30... but he couldn't promise. (I suspect there was a communications breakdown somewhere, Sue. What do you think?) But the thing is Mark, even if he was right, the platform was already full of (at least) three trains' worth of passengers by that time anyway. The chance of getting a seat would be less than zero. To be honest, I didn't rate my chances of even getting on the thing at all. If it came at all.
So I left. I made like a banana and split. I made like a tornado and blew. I made like a Tom and cruised. I got me and up and got me out and got me on the coach instead.
And the coach is lovely and all - but it's a bit slow, Sue. Don't you find? It's a bit... prosaic. Where's the romance in a coach trip? Would Brief Encounter have been half so heartbreaking had it been set around Gloucester Green bus station and the Oxford Tube? I don't think we'll need to sit and weep through it together to know the answer to that one, will we, Sue? No. Thought not.
So anyway: I got the coach, and arrived to work about an hour and a half late. But the problem is, Mark: how does that square with my project? If the length of this email is to reflect the length of my delay, if I'm to waste a proportionate amount of your time (as you have wasted mine), then what do I do about today's sorry situation?
It's a test case is what it is, Mark! It's - as our bewigged chums in the legal profession prefer to put it - a precedent. If, for example, I decide that a cancelled train is the equivalent of, say, 30 minutes delay, then that's how it'll have to be from now on. The precedent will be set.
But does that mean that three cancelled trains requires me to bang on for an hour and a half of your time? That would be literally insane! (Sorry, I've done it again, you're quite right, Sue. It wouldn't be literally insane at all. It might be a figurative illustration of insanity... but it wouldn't be literally insane.)
What was I saying? Oh yes. That would be literally insane!
I'm not going to bang on for an hour and a half today, Mark. Sue: I don't think I could manage it, if I'm being honest. I haven't got it in me to keep you stimulated for that long. So I'm going to devise a formula. A secret formula! An equation involving the relative differences between scheduled journey times for the train I should have got and the coach I did get, factoring in an integer representing the cancellation of trains (multiplied by three) and with a little bit added on for the walk from the train station to the bus station. And a little bit taken off for the slightly shorter tube journey at the other end.
Not bad, eh? And they said I'd never make it as a mathematician, Mark! They said that numbers weren't my bag! I won't bore you with the exact answer my formula delivers, Mark, but let's just say it's pretty long. Pretty long and pretty inconvenient for all concerned.
But we must get back to business.
What did happen this morning, Mark? The buzz in the station was that a train broke down. Could that be true? Again? How often does that happen, Mark? That trains break down, I mean? What's the lifespan of your average passenger train these days? How often do you replace them? And is that too many questions for one paragraph? Or is this too many? Or this?
I await the answers with breath firmly baited. Or bated. (Sue? Baited or bated?) And in the meantime, I'll leave you with a cheering thought. One ray of sunshine in an otherwise grey and overcast day.
I sat next to a lovely old American gentleman on my coach journey to London this morning, Mark. He was over for his holidays. He "did" the Lake District at the weekend, he "did" Oxford yesterday and he was "doing" London today and tomorrow. On Saturday he was off to France to "do" Paris. He was one of life's doers, Mark! I really liked him! I liked his energy! He was about 85 and he was "doing" London in two days before going off to "do" Paris. Europe was totally his lobster!
When I grow old I'd like to be like that, Mark. The doing bit/Europe being my lobster thing, I mean, obviously. Not the holidaying alone on a coach bit. When I grow old I'd like to be one of life's doers. How about you homeboys? Would you like to be doers someday too?
Au revoir!
Dom
Re: 07.52 / 07.56 / 08.06 FGW services from Oxford to Paddington , 4/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: err...
Word up, homeys! What's shakin'?
I'll be straight with you from the start Mark, I'll level with you from the get-go, Sue: I don't know how to handle this one.
The thing is: I'm in a state, a tizz, a quandary. I'm in a ball of confusion. (What is a ball of confusion anyway? I mean, obviously it's a Temptations song from 1970 - later covered by Tina Turner and featuring in the excellent film Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit... but, I mean, what actually is a ball of confusion? A ball? Of confusion? What the dickens were they on about?)
The thing is: I didn't even catch one of your trains this morning, Mark. Don't get me wrong: I tried, alright. I tried so hard, Sue! I turned up bright and breezy and eager and early, chomping at the bit like some super-keen, stud-ready thoroughbred... you should have seen me, Sue! I was ready, willing and able to catch one of your trains. But I couldn't!
I couldn't catch the 07.52 - because it was cancelled. So I stuck around for the 07.56 - that got cancelled too. When the 08.06 joined them in the by-now oh-so-fashionable cancelled club, I walked, Mark. I turned around and walked out of there, all the way to the bus station, where I paid a further £15 and caught a coach to London.
Don't get me wrong. Obviously I didn't have to catch a coach. I didn't have to pay my extra £15 to get to London today. I could have stuck it out and stuck around. A nice man at the station did tell me things were likely to get moving by about 8.30... but he couldn't promise. (I suspect there was a communications breakdown somewhere, Sue. What do you think?) But the thing is Mark, even if he was right, the platform was already full of (at least) three trains' worth of passengers by that time anyway. The chance of getting a seat would be less than zero. To be honest, I didn't rate my chances of even getting on the thing at all. If it came at all.
So I left. I made like a banana and split. I made like a tornado and blew. I made like a Tom and cruised. I got me and up and got me out and got me on the coach instead.
And the coach is lovely and all - but it's a bit slow, Sue. Don't you find? It's a bit... prosaic. Where's the romance in a coach trip? Would Brief Encounter have been half so heartbreaking had it been set around Gloucester Green bus station and the Oxford Tube? I don't think we'll need to sit and weep through it together to know the answer to that one, will we, Sue? No. Thought not.
So anyway: I got the coach, and arrived to work about an hour and a half late. But the problem is, Mark: how does that square with my project? If the length of this email is to reflect the length of my delay, if I'm to waste a proportionate amount of your time (as you have wasted mine), then what do I do about today's sorry situation?
It's a test case is what it is, Mark! It's - as our bewigged chums in the legal profession prefer to put it - a precedent. If, for example, I decide that a cancelled train is the equivalent of, say, 30 minutes delay, then that's how it'll have to be from now on. The precedent will be set.
But does that mean that three cancelled trains requires me to bang on for an hour and a half of your time? That would be literally insane! (Sorry, I've done it again, you're quite right, Sue. It wouldn't be literally insane at all. It might be a figurative illustration of insanity... but it wouldn't be literally insane.)
What was I saying? Oh yes. That would be literally insane!
I'm not going to bang on for an hour and a half today, Mark. Sue: I don't think I could manage it, if I'm being honest. I haven't got it in me to keep you stimulated for that long. So I'm going to devise a formula. A secret formula! An equation involving the relative differences between scheduled journey times for the train I should have got and the coach I did get, factoring in an integer representing the cancellation of trains (multiplied by three) and with a little bit added on for the walk from the train station to the bus station. And a little bit taken off for the slightly shorter tube journey at the other end.
Not bad, eh? And they said I'd never make it as a mathematician, Mark! They said that numbers weren't my bag! I won't bore you with the exact answer my formula delivers, Mark, but let's just say it's pretty long. Pretty long and pretty inconvenient for all concerned.
But we must get back to business.
What did happen this morning, Mark? The buzz in the station was that a train broke down. Could that be true? Again? How often does that happen, Mark? That trains break down, I mean? What's the lifespan of your average passenger train these days? How often do you replace them? And is that too many questions for one paragraph? Or is this too many? Or this?
I await the answers with breath firmly baited. Or bated. (Sue? Baited or bated?) And in the meantime, I'll leave you with a cheering thought. One ray of sunshine in an otherwise grey and overcast day.
I sat next to a lovely old American gentleman on my coach journey to London this morning, Mark. He was over for his holidays. He "did" the Lake District at the weekend, he "did" Oxford yesterday and he was "doing" London today and tomorrow. On Saturday he was off to France to "do" Paris. He was one of life's doers, Mark! I really liked him! I liked his energy! He was about 85 and he was "doing" London in two days before going off to "do" Paris. Europe was totally his lobster!
When I grow old I'd like to be like that, Mark. The doing bit/Europe being my lobster thing, I mean, obviously. Not the holidaying alone on a coach bit. When I grow old I'd like to be one of life's doers. How about you homeboys? Would you like to be doers someday too?
Au revoir!
Dom
A new reply from Mr Mark Hopwood!
Told you he was a gentleman!
Dear Dom
Thank you for your email.
It was good to meet you yesterday, and for Sue and I to be able to talk to you about some of the challenges we face. We hope you enjoyed, or will enjoy - as you mentioned it would be a late one with your Sun magazine deadline last night - a good birthday celebration.
As you know, when we travelled together on the 0806 from Oxford yesterday, the train left on time. Subsequently, our service was held up by a signal problem at Southall, arriving into Paddington 9 minutes behind schedule. There was also a problem with the signalling system that controls the route into Paddington. Network Rail informed us of these problems during the morning peak and their engineers worked very hard throughout the morning to keep delays to an absolute minimum.
This delay highlights one of the issues we discussed yesterday, the Oxford to London route is an intensively used section of the network, which we share with freight and other train operators' services. Any problem, such as the signalling, has a knock on effect resulting in some of the delays you have recently experienced. I mentioned the upcoming re-doubling of the Cotswolds line. This won't be complete for another 6 weeks, but the benefit will be improved punctuality for services on the route and fewer delays for you. We have other projects in hand to achieve the improvements we both want to see.
Getting you to your destination on time is our priority. Sue and I will continue to work hard to achieve that with the First Great Western and Network Rail teams.
Best wishes
Mark Hopwood
Managing Director
Dear Dom
Thank you for your email.
It was good to meet you yesterday, and for Sue and I to be able to talk to you about some of the challenges we face. We hope you enjoyed, or will enjoy - as you mentioned it would be a late one with your Sun magazine deadline last night - a good birthday celebration.
As you know, when we travelled together on the 0806 from Oxford yesterday, the train left on time. Subsequently, our service was held up by a signal problem at Southall, arriving into Paddington 9 minutes behind schedule. There was also a problem with the signalling system that controls the route into Paddington. Network Rail informed us of these problems during the morning peak and their engineers worked very hard throughout the morning to keep delays to an absolute minimum.
This delay highlights one of the issues we discussed yesterday, the Oxford to London route is an intensively used section of the network, which we share with freight and other train operators' services. Any problem, such as the signalling, has a knock on effect resulting in some of the delays you have recently experienced. I mentioned the upcoming re-doubling of the Cotswolds line. This won't be complete for another 6 weeks, but the benefit will be improved punctuality for services on the route and fewer delays for you. We have other projects in hand to achieve the improvements we both want to see.
Getting you to your destination on time is our priority. Sue and I will continue to work hard to achieve that with the First Great Western and Network Rail teams.
Best wishes
Mark Hopwood
Managing Director
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
2 August 2011. Letter 12
Dear Mark and Sue
Re: 08.06 FGW service from Oxford to Paddington , 2/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: 10 minutes.
Mark! Sue! Dudes - we're radio stars! Better: as from tonight we're TV stars! And video, as we all know, killed the radio star. Buggles said that. He wasn't wrong. ("Ooh-we-oo-ooh!" I love that song!)
BBC Oxford, eh? How did we do? Do you think the good folks of Oxfordshire were educated, informed and entertained by us? Have we delivered value for their license fee? I do hope so. Value for money's important, right? It's what keeps companies on top. It's what makes companies worthwhile. It's what ensures customers come back for more. When they've got a choice, that is.
And, yes, it was lovely to meet you both. Truly. Mark: I like you. (Sue: I loved your saucy red dress, I loved that you gave me a birthday card (!), I loved the fact that you not only exist - those nagging rumours of the First Great Western Sue-Bot can finally be laid to rest - but that at one stage you even seemed to be flirting with me. You totally did, Sue! You wore a red dress and gave me a birthday card! I've built whole relationships on less! Right up until you mentioned your husband was in the Territorial Army, anyway. That might have signaled the end of the flirting.)
What was I saying? Oh yes: Mark, I like you. You're a gentleman. But, and this is the tragedy of our sorry situation, I'm afraid I still think you run a rubbish company. You've got a tough job to do... but it is your job to do it. I hand over my money, I want my service. Seriously: it's not a massive thing to ask is it?
I know! Let's do us another metaphor.
Let's say, for example, you and Sue went out for dinner one night. Let's say you went somewhere expensive. Let's say (for the sake of this metaphor at least) that you couldn't book a table, you had to pay in advance and once you arrived you weren't guaranteed a seat. I know, I know, it doesn't sound like a great restaurant, but it's the only one in town, ok? And let's say, once you got there, and were told you'd have to stand for your meal, next to the toilet... let's say you then waited for your food. And waited. And then when it finally came it didn't actually taste very nice and the restaurant manager blamed everything on, oh, I don't know, someone not mending the oven or something. And then he told you he was putting the price up in future.
"But you're the manager!" you'd cry. "It's your job to make sure the oven is mended! And that I'm served my food on time! And, in fact, that I can sit down to eat it! And that it tastes nice! What exactly am I paying for here? And what the blazes are you talking about, putting the price up? Has the whole world gone mad?"
And you know what, Mark: you'd be right to complain. It just wouldn't be good enough, would it?
So yes, it's a tough job: I don't doubt it. But, you know, that is your job. That is your job, Mark.
And so, anyway, after all the excitement this morning, what should happen? Clue: I caught a train...
That's right! Typically, ironically, the train I caught this morning, after our little flirt with the mass media and glimpse into the Empire-straddling magnificence of the British Broadcasting Corporation, hobbled into Paddington 10 minutes late.
I know! Mark: I know, man! Ironic? That's Morisette-grade irony, that is!
After all you'd told me about the improvements you were making, Mark. After all those smiles and that red dress, Sue. And then the very next train I get on is 10 minutes late! It's like... it's like... it's like 10,000 spoons Mark! When all I need is a knife! It's like... right, bear with me on this one: imagine I have a chardonnay, right, and there's this black fly, and - actually, never mind. I think we've established: it was ironic.
It's a point I may address, kids, when I'm on Radio Berkshire tomorrow morning. Or Radio Wiltshire after that. Are you coming? It would be lovely to see you again!
Au revoir!
Dom
Re: 08.06 FGW service from Oxford to Paddington , 2/8/11. Amount of my day wasted: 10 minutes.
Mark! Sue! Dudes - we're radio stars! Better: as from tonight we're TV stars! And video, as we all know, killed the radio star. Buggles said that. He wasn't wrong. ("Ooh-we-oo-ooh!" I love that song!)
BBC Oxford, eh? How did we do? Do you think the good folks of Oxfordshire were educated, informed and entertained by us? Have we delivered value for their license fee? I do hope so. Value for money's important, right? It's what keeps companies on top. It's what makes companies worthwhile. It's what ensures customers come back for more. When they've got a choice, that is.
And, yes, it was lovely to meet you both. Truly. Mark: I like you. (Sue: I loved your saucy red dress, I loved that you gave me a birthday card (!), I loved the fact that you not only exist - those nagging rumours of the First Great Western Sue-Bot can finally be laid to rest - but that at one stage you even seemed to be flirting with me. You totally did, Sue! You wore a red dress and gave me a birthday card! I've built whole relationships on less! Right up until you mentioned your husband was in the Territorial Army, anyway. That might have signaled the end of the flirting.)
What was I saying? Oh yes: Mark, I like you. You're a gentleman. But, and this is the tragedy of our sorry situation, I'm afraid I still think you run a rubbish company. You've got a tough job to do... but it is your job to do it. I hand over my money, I want my service. Seriously: it's not a massive thing to ask is it?
I know! Let's do us another metaphor.
Let's say, for example, you and Sue went out for dinner one night. Let's say you went somewhere expensive. Let's say (for the sake of this metaphor at least) that you couldn't book a table, you had to pay in advance and once you arrived you weren't guaranteed a seat. I know, I know, it doesn't sound like a great restaurant, but it's the only one in town, ok? And let's say, once you got there, and were told you'd have to stand for your meal, next to the toilet... let's say you then waited for your food. And waited. And then when it finally came it didn't actually taste very nice and the restaurant manager blamed everything on, oh, I don't know, someone not mending the oven or something. And then he told you he was putting the price up in future.
"But you're the manager!" you'd cry. "It's your job to make sure the oven is mended! And that I'm served my food on time! And, in fact, that I can sit down to eat it! And that it tastes nice! What exactly am I paying for here? And what the blazes are you talking about, putting the price up? Has the whole world gone mad?"
And you know what, Mark: you'd be right to complain. It just wouldn't be good enough, would it?
So yes, it's a tough job: I don't doubt it. But, you know, that is your job. That is your job, Mark.
And so, anyway, after all the excitement this morning, what should happen? Clue: I caught a train...
That's right! Typically, ironically, the train I caught this morning, after our little flirt with the mass media and glimpse into the Empire-straddling magnificence of the British Broadcasting Corporation, hobbled into Paddington 10 minutes late.
I know! Mark: I know, man! Ironic? That's Morisette-grade irony, that is!
After all you'd told me about the improvements you were making, Mark. After all those smiles and that red dress, Sue. And then the very next train I get on is 10 minutes late! It's like... it's like... it's like 10,000 spoons Mark! When all I need is a knife! It's like... right, bear with me on this one: imagine I have a chardonnay, right, and there's this black fly, and - actually, never mind. I think we've established: it was ironic.
It's a point I may address, kids, when I'm on Radio Berkshire tomorrow morning. Or Radio Wiltshire after that. Are you coming? It would be lovely to see you again!
Au revoir!
Dom
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