For some reason, despite the lack of anything Disney related in our house (we don't even have Sky), my kids have picked up on the annoying Micky Mouse Clubhouse Hot Dog Song. The song is so bloody annoying that considering I had never seen it myself until I checked out YouTube earlier, I cannot seem to get it out of my head. "It's a brand new day, what you waiting for?" sings Mickey (clearly ignoring the rules of grammar there). So, my cheery little mouse friend, shall I tell you what I've been waiting for this week?
This week started off waiting for the local hospital to schedule an operation for my poor mother who yet again needs surgery. No problem, said I, we'll just wait for the call and organise things from there. Shouldn't be too difficult. Wrong. Hospital phoned on Monday afternoon - could she come in for a pre-op now, the surgery will be tomorrow. So, we dropped everything and rushed to the hospital, leaving dh to sort out school pick up, feeding children their tea and a kennel for the dog (oh, yes my mother has a dog, which brings me to my next point).
So, surgery all sorted out. The pre-op people were actually very good although the hospital fleeced us for £2.20 for two hours parking along the way. We get home and dh has sorted out the dog with a great kennel. My in-laws use it so that's good. They take the dog in the morning and leave all his stuff there. You should be aware at this point that the dog is a Jack Russell puppy and my mother cannot cope with him any longer (he's not a bad dog, just too much for her) so we have been in the process of re-homing him. Mum had spoken to the breeder and arranged for her to help find him a new home and there are a couple of possibles. Mum also, due to the immediate nature of her hospital stay, had given my details to everyone, friends, neighbours, kennel, breeder (virtually half the town!). So, I'm now in charge of the search process.
Tuesday comes, I take mum to hospital, she has her surgery, it goes ok I think, the hospital won't tell me much over the phone. Back at home, I get a call from the dog breeder (who is lovely, by the way), a man is interested in mum's dog. Great I think. He is a good fit because he already has another dog from the same litter. So we arrange to meet at the kennels (the owner of which is very accommodating) the next day. My father-in-law drives me as I don't know the way. We get there and the man, his wife and son see the dog and decide that they aren't a good match and leave. I am cross because I feel they have wasted our time somewhat. The main reason for their decision is that their dog reacted badly to ours, which is fair enough but they barely gave him a chance. The breeder (who turns up too) says she'll call me and we go home. I get about half a dozen phone calls for various friends of my mother throughout the rest of the day. It's really nice that they care but the thing about retired people is that they've all forgotten what it's like to be person with small children to care for. They manage to call at various points during and immediately after the school run, or when I'm bathing children and can't really speak. One of them has an annoying text speak habit too.
I visit mum, she's doing well, but the op was longer and more complex than expected so she's staying in for a while. I tell her the whole story about the dog and suddenly feel very responsible for the situation, which has not been of my making.
The week then gets rather better from here on in, well, the bits relating to the dog at least. Another call when I get home, a very keen couple want to meet on Thursday morning. So, yesterday I waited, and waited at the kennels, admittedly I'd arrived early but was getting worried when they didn't show, then I see the car coming up the driveway. Fortunately they are smitten with the dog, I think they are more than suitable so they leave with him, I pay and thank the kennel staff and breathe a huge sigh of relief.
So, now it's Friday. I have omitted one tale of stress from my week, which has been bubbling slowly in the background but I think here is a good place to
Well, I know not many people read my blog, but can I just say to anyone who might actually be reading this that if they are ever tempted to become customers of Orange they should run in the opposite direction immediately. The staff in the shop made a mistake on my contract originally and we spent over an hour setting it up. The staff member serving me insisted on opening my box fresh phone and inserting the SIM himself, even though I asked him no to - do I look like I'm incapable of opening a box ffs? I was charged for data for about two months even though it was included in my contract. They employ call centre staff who can't understand me and who then send me 23 identical texts with the same spelling error in them, and now this. As far as I'm aware I can't leave them but I can't live with them either. I'm currently thinking it might be easier to just cancel the contract and take a new one out elsewhere. I can't do that though, because my bloody phone is still locked to their network. Argh!!!
|A sample of the 23 texts Orange sent me last month|
So, my Friday Rant is Orange/EE, easily as annoying as Mickey Mouse and his Hot Dog Song - maybe they should adopt that as their on hold music, at least I'd know the words...