I work for our local shire council, and we’re organising a career fair mainly for students in high school and university. We are a few weeks out, and the deadline for businesses who want to have a stall at the fair closed two weeks ago. We allowed a few late requests, but we have now reached capacity; there is physically no room for any more.

A “gentleman” from a religious charity that employs trainees phones asking for a stall. We let him know that, unfortunately, the deadline has passed and we are at capacity, but we’d be happy for his trainees to come along as attendees, and we can make sure to put him on the mailing list for next year.

He snaps back:

Gentleman: “No, that’s fine. I’ll just call the mayor!” 

Because, apparently, the mayor can turn back time to before the cut-off date or make the venue bigger just to fit him in! We have not heard from the mayor… yet.

I am the author of this story, and I’ve had another stunning interaction with our telco.

It’s September, and the new iPhone is about to be released, so many retailers are having a fire sale on the older models. My mother decided it was time to upgrade her dinosaur to a now-obsolete iPhone 14. I convinced her to add it to her bill so she could pay it off monthly.

[Provider] also has a price-match policy, and that day, another retailer was advertising the same device for $200 cheaper. I’m authorised on my mother’s account, so I offered to call to set it up.

Consultant: “The account will need to be set up as direct debit/autopay to add the new phone.”

Me: “Is that necessary? I didn’t need to last time. And as a pensioner, Mum isn’t overly happy using direct debit.”

She placed me on hold, checked, and came back.

Consultant: “Your mother’s current plan is eligible, so direct debit won’t be necessary. And as a bonus, she will keep her pensioner discount!”

The order proceeded, and we finished the call. (Those familiar with the provider know they switched to direct debit a while ago and there is no other option, but we weren’t told that.)

Two weeks later, I asked my mum if her phone had arrived yet as I needed to set it up for her. It hadn’t, so I contacted [Provider]. They came back and advised me that the order had been cancelled because a direct debit agreement had not been set up — and nobody had contacted us to advise this before it was cancelled.

After trying to discuss it with a supervisor, I asked to lodge a complaint. (It’s worked twice before now, so why not?) The consultant took down the details and read it back as, “Customer not happy with direct debit”. I corrected him to ensure that it wasn’t just the direct debit but also the fact that nobody had contacted us to advise what the problem was, and we’d had to chase it up.

Twenty-four hours later my mother received an email.

Email: “Dear Customer: Regarding complaint [number], we are sorry you aren’t happy with our payment options. However, as direct debit is the only option we offer, we are not able to resolve your complaint to your satisfaction and consider the matter finalised.”

I saw red. I went straight to the ombudsman and explained what we had been through. The call took five minutes, and they promised we’d receive a callback shortly.

The next day, the [Provider] Ombudsman Complaints officer called back and clarified the details of our issue. I primarily explained that had someone called and said, “You need to do direct debit to get this deal,” we’d have done so.

The officer understood, apologised, and went to see what she could do.

Officer: “Unfortunately, the iPhone 14 is now completely unavailable. I cannot offer you the same deal.”

Me: “Surely, since this was not our mistake, there is something you can do to make it right?”

After much discussion that I’ll skip here, the offer was an iPhone 15, for the price of the 14.

Me: “But what about the price-match deal? We have screenshots of [Other Retailer]’s price on the day we took out the deal.”

The next offer was the iPhone 15 for the price of the 14, plus $200. But we’d lose the pensioner discount.

Me: “But we were told on the first call that we would still get the pensioner discount?”

The next offer included the discount, with thirty-six months credit, as well. 

So, after all is said and done, my mother pays an extra $5 per month than she would have had everything gone through the first time, but she also received over $500 off a brand-new iPhone.

Moral of the story: all of our telcos are bad in Australia, but if you know the system and insist on your rights as a consumer — and wave an ombudsman stick if they don’t fix the problem — you will generally make out pretty good.

Related:
Isn’t It Literally Your Job To “Figure It Out”?

I am visiting a touristy place in the rainforest of northeast Australia. Popular access is via a series of gondolas or a scenic train. There’s lots of shopping from local artisans, you can hold a koala, etc. I’m on my way to the train station to return to Cairns when a barefoot young man walks up to me.

Barefoot Guy: “Hey, do you know where I can find nature?”

Me: “Um, anywhere?”

I kept going, and he presumably found some nature. Did I mention that we were in the middle of the rainforest?

Way back when, I used to be a tour guide at a tourism park. Our workplace lacked any formal structure for dealing with lost property, and we generally just dropped everything at reservations with those long-suffering souls who were also responsible for directing tour groups, selling tickets, answering phones, and acting as the information desk. The rest of us were generally tied up for most of the day and weren’t always able to roam the park looking for sunglasses and water bottles.

One day, when I happened to have nearly two hours without a booked tour, an older husband and wife approached me at my station.

Woman Guest: “Hello. We might have lost a hat.”

Me: “Might have?”

Woman Guest: “Yes, my husband has a bucket hat, and we can’t find it. We might have left it on the bus, or at our hotel, or at the last place, or it might be here. Normally, we wouldn’t bother, but the hat was a gift from our granddaughter, and it has sentimental value.”

Man Guest: “Sorry to bother you.”

Me: “Not at all! Let’s head to reservations and see if anyone’s handed it in.”

So, off we went. Reservations didn’t have any lost property at all from that day, so I walked around the entire park (a sizable distance) and spoke to every employee I could find in every department with the couple in tow. Not one employee had seen the hat. The couple and I also retraced their steps throughout the park, carefully checking every seat and every stop for rogue bucket hats. Nothing.

The entire time, the husband repeatedly apologised for taking up so much of my time, while the wife repeatedly listed all the places the hat might be that weren’t in our park. I repeatedly reassured the husband that it was fine and repeatedly responded to the wife with murmured acknowledgments and the occasional, “Did you give them a ring?”

After more than ninety minutes, we had checked everywhere, and we had not found one stray shred of fabric of the hat.

Me: “I’m sorry that we haven’t found the hat.”

Woman Guest: “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Woman Guest: “How are you going to find the hat?”

Me: “…Ma’am, the hat is not in our park. I’m not sure what else I can do to help you find this hat. Will you be travelling back today on the same bus? Do you need a contact number for the bus company, or your previous stop?”

Woman Guest: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “To check if they’ve got the hat.”

Woman Guest: “Well, aren’t you going to find it?”

Me: “…”

Woman Guest: *To her husband* “I can’t believe this!” *Back to me* “You said you were going to help us. What happens now, hmm?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry we didn’t find your hat, but I need to get back to work.”

Before his wife could start berating me, the husband loudly spoke over the top of her.

Man Guest: “Thank you, and have a good day.”

Woman Guest: *Sneering* “Yes, thank you for alllll your help.”

I just about ran from that couple, and I barely made it back in time for my next tour. Short of calling the other businesses directly or pulling a bucket hat out of my broad-brimmed one, I’m not sure what else I could have done for them. I understand sentimentality, but believe it or not, people, being a tour guide doesn’t make you a wizard.

CONTENT WARNING: Gross

A customer has just finished at the vet’s and is about to leave with her dog, which she is carrying.

Receptionist: “Ma’am, you need to pay for your appointment before you leave.”

She huffs and walks over to the desk to pay.

Receptionist: “Will that be credit or debit?”

Customer: “Can I just tap it?”

Receptionist: “Okay, go ahead.”

She taps her card and hurries toward the exit.

Receptionist: “Excuse me! Sorry, ma’am, but you will still need to put in your PIN as the amount was over the $100 pay-pass limit.”

Customer: “You mean I have to come back over there? No, I’ve paid.”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, but you haven’t. I need you to come back over and put in your PIN before you leave, please.”

She walks back over to the reception desk looking very uncomfortable.

Receptionist: “Thank you, ma’am.”

The reason for the customer’s behaviour became apparent as a stream of diarrhoea flowed down her legs and the smell filled the building. It was all over the floor, the customer, her clothes, and her shoes, which happened to be flip-flops.

She finished putting in her PIN, didn’t say a word, and walked out, her thongs flicking up liquid poo in a trail behind her.