Just back from a two day business trip to Glasgow. I'm not going to lie the experience was painful.
It's a well know fact that retail service in this country is shit. We all know it. Especially train companies right? They charge an arm and a leg for what is effectively rubbish service and then spend fortunes on advertising saying 'we care about you'. That's generally the deal and we all know it.
It's also a well known fact that technology has made huge advances to this world. The internet, medicine, prosthetic limbs, social media, X Factor voting. Our lives and society have been revolutionised.
So what have WH Smith done to embrace Modern technology? Well, at Euston station they appear to have done away with humans and replaced them all with self service tills that don't work. Genius.
Not only do you have to contend with being bombarded with offers for coupons, vouchers, Galaxy bars for £1 and 5p off your next purchase for £25 and over. Now you have to contend with the painful process of working the self service demons that are clearly set up to make your day as painful as possible.
I wanted to buy a paper. Pretty simple transaction really. £1.20 to read about the charade that was/is the Hacking trial. (if ever there was a flex of power and money and immorality on a large scale that was it) - but all I needed was to pay for the newspaper (Guardian if you must know)
Queue for self service till
Long wait as lots of frustrated commuters in front of me swearing at self service til
Get to till
Scan paper, wait. Nothing.
Scan again, wait. Nothing.
repeat process 8 times.
Finally a bleep.
Till asks - Cash or card, press cash
Till says - card only
Press card
Till asks - Coupon? Press No.
Till asks - Galaxy Bar £1? Press No
Till asks - 2p bag? For fucks sake it's a paper what do I need a bag for? I'm already screwing up the environment with a fucking newspaper, why do I need to screw it up more with plastic bags? Press No.
Nothing
Press again
Nothing
Loud deep sigh, swear under breath
Repeat process all over again
This happens 3 times before I explode, grab one of the several small little chaps stocking up the Discos tray.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a massive fan of Discos. They are a quality crisp. They deserve respect. But do you really need to stock up on them at 7.30am when there's a massive queue of people? What is there a Golden ticket in them? Are they being discontinued? Are they extinct.
"LEAVE THE FUCKING DISCOS AND HELP US!"
Us commuters were like pathetic battery chickens rendered useless by these evil machines. "Help us please Mr Disco filler"
Finally the paper went through, the card was fed and I paid.
Such a painful process to pay for a sodding Newspaper.
I think that policy decision by the suits at WH Smith was a belter. They obviously had a meeting and asked, "how can we make it as painful and difficult for our customers?" "I know........."
They rival PC World as Nazi retailers. Until I got on the Virgin Train.........Wow.
It's been ages since I took a long train journey. Luckily work paid for it but the £150 return to Glasgow surprised me. That's a lot of Tunnocks Tea cakes that.
The journey up was pretty painless. I sat next to the buffet car trying to get Wi Fi to work. A fruitless effort. I would have had more hope getting it to work on Mars.
I had a nice chat to the friendly Scouse woman who ran the buffet car. She loved a chat. In fact she loved a chat so much I got really bored after 30 minutes. I come from London I'm not used to speaking to humans on a train, save for berating them for being in the way.
I enjoyed our chat, but after a few minutes I noticed she had had her eyes done which gave her that permanent surprised look. It gnawed away at me. My mind was churning as we spoke, until it was screaming in my head. "Please blink for fucks sake." It was doing my head in. She didn't blink once in 30 mins and I had to break of the conversation before I said what was in my head.
The stay was brief but just long enough to marvel at the local fashion. Tatoo's and bouffants. and that was the girls. I ate my own bodyweight in shortbread, tablet and Tunnocks Tea-cakes and it was time to come back.
I arrived at Glasgow station at 2.20pm for my 2.40pm. Delayed. No reason just delayed. and so we waited, waited and waited.
Finally we were let on and the train crawled its way towards London. 6 hours it took. I was climbing the walls after 4.
Luckily Ollie the buffet guard kept us amused by drawing a raffle for a bottle of wine at Preston. I have never heard anything more insane. A raffle for booze on a train that he got a 10 year old boy to draw out on the tannoy. it was like a Sketch I swear to God. Broad accent drawing it out like something from Pheonix Nights.
The bloke opposite me won it and I had to stare at this bottle of wine all the way back to London. I have been sober for 12 years but I swear to God after the 8th delay I nearly necked it.
He drew one again at Milton Keynes. Mind you if you lived there what else is there to do? He got another young kid to draw it. Nothing like encouraging underage responsible binge drinking is there Virgin Trains.
We finally got back to London 7 hours later and I departed home knackered and bewildered.
If anyone suffers from bi polar manic depression and is contemplating suicide, my advice is book yourself on a Virgin train to Glasgow, especially when Ollie is running the show. It's nailed on to help you finish the job
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
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