Grattan's mailing list

They aren't very clear on the website. Lots of directions about 3rd party information, nothing about actually removing myself from their list. I'm currently in a loop of some kind with their customer services number which they haven't posted hours for. Heard the menu twice and am now being told to go to the website.

The number is 0871 987 0111. Still on hold after about 5 minutes.


Customer services are pretty good just taking me off the list after some initial misunderstandings of 20 and 8.

Pretty easy.

Grattan works a month in advance.

Overall score:
It's not clear on their website how to get off the list. That might be helpful. Customer services was fairly efficient. A month is the shortest time so far.

B for lack of clarity and having an 0871 number.

Removing myself from Littlewoods

More junk mail!

From Littlewoods Finance website.

Littlewoods Shop Direct or EFS may pass your personal information to carefully selected third parties to use for marketing. Littlewoods Shop Direct, EFS or third party partners may contact you by mail, telephone, e-mail, text message or any other reasonable method. If you do not wish to be contacted by third parties in this way, or you do not want Littlewoods Shop Direct or EFS to contact you for their marketing or if you have any queries about data protection, please call freephone 0800 051 1213.

This number goes directly through to someone named Jo who is transferring me.

Authorizations is the correct department apparently, customer service rep is uninformed. She tells me it's going to take 3 months. I explain that I'm leaving the country and I'd rather not have any credit offers sent.

Am now on hold for Authorizations. Time so far is 3 minutes, spoke with 2 different people.

Just given my name and details for the second time to a third person.

Littlewoods prepares mailshots 3 months in advance.

Overall: Helpful staff, no haggling, slightly confused process and customer service reps.

C

How to get off Capital One's mailing list

Oh sweet LORD.

I applied for a credit card with Capital One like 3 years ago. I was declined for a decent interest rate so I decided to er, not use them. They still send me frankly awful offers via mail. The most recent? 34.9% interest on a 1,000 limit. What the hell?

So, I'm trying to remove myself from their mailing list.

According to the website I have to call a customer service number:

How do I opt out of Third Party Data?


Any person making an application by telephone on 0800 952 2271** can 'opt-out' of having a credit decision made using Third Party Data. It is the responsibility of the applicant to make the telephone associate aware that they wish to 'opt-out', at which stage they will be sent a specific 'opt-out' application pack in the post.
**8am-9pm Mon-Fri & 9am - 5.30pm Weekends. To help improve our service, we may record/monitor your calls to and from Capital One.

Thinking it would only take a few minutes I'm calling them.

I've been on the phone for about 5 minutes now. I dutifully pressed 4 at the options menu and was given a spiel about applying for a credit card. 6 minutes and counting. Just gave my details to a very polite call centre person in applications. Now I'm being transferred to the department that actually handles it. Tell me, why is it so hard to get removed from a list? Identity theft is rampant.

Just got through to Customer Relations who tell me that while it's actioned overnight, I might receive mailings up until October. They do their mail ins two months in advance.

Something to keep in mind.

Overall: Pretty good. Free number, low call times. Not happy about how far out they do their mail shots but they didn't try and keep me on the line or convince me otherwise.

B+

Pepsi's viral marketing on Livejournal

Another day, another company trying to get hip with the kids and getting it so, so, so very wrong.

In Livejournal's Bad Service community a post about a disinterested gas station employee and some guy wanting a drink appeared. Pretty normal Bad Service, as far as the community goes. But commenters went through and started noticing something was a bit off.

Bad Gas Station Service

OK, listen...I had a killer thirst so I stopped at this gas station, right? This chick at the counter is talking on her cell phone really loudly as I'm browsing the soda fridge. I didn't see what I was looking for, so I was like, "miss? Where's the Pepsi Max?" She pretended not to hear me, so I repeated myself again. She slams down the phone and yells, "We don't carry that shit." My mouth was gaping at this uppity bitch's nerve. No Pepsi Max? That's like a hot day on the beach with no cuties, am I right?

Bad Gas Station Service

At first, most folks thought it was a troll account. Or someone just posting to get negative attention. But the emphasis on Pepsi Max, a relatively new product and the username: pepsi2dmax seemed like it could be something else. Certainly a fake account, I for one know of very few football players that use words like 'miss,' but one fronting for Pepsi?

It seems that way. Brian's journal has another Pepsi Max loving entry:

College is going great

* Aug. 17th, 2007 at 12:37 AM


So I was out chillin with my buds today hollering at the hotties. One of my boys passed me an icy bottle of Pepsi Max. I yelled, "what's this shit!?" and he said, "just try it, bro." I was like, "no, dude. This has ginsing and I ain't one of those new age fags," but I took a sip and DAMN this shits good!

I'm so refreshed that I'm going to ask Betty out for a date tonight. Man life's good!

Seems just a bit like very poor advertising, doesn't it?

But Livejournal doesn't appear to be the victim in all this. Brian the Pepsi Max lover is using a theme advertising the very same. And links on the theme point to http://sixapart.adbureau.net/adclick/CID=0000057f0000000000000000, or their account. Regular LJ users can use the same theme as Brian, advertising their product. And they've provided 3 Pepsi Max VGifts that you can send your friends for free.

Said VGifts providing free advertising.... for Pepsi, on someone's blog.

Thankfully everyone who's run across this account so far is unimpressed, proving yet again that PR companies have no idea what it actually takes to get people to like their product via blogs. I suppose me talking about it is also part of what they want but I'd rather not purchase from a brand that uses words like 'fag' so liberally and proves itself completely inept.

I e-mailed Teri at Pepsi the following:

Dear Terri,

Can you confirm if the following posts are sponsored directly by Pepsi?

http://community.livejournal.com/bad_service/1352503.html
http://pepsi2dmax.livejournal.com/

If they are, the use of the word 'fag' in such a poor context, in addition to the spelling and suspected trolling isn't helping you guys much.

Thanks,
Tiffany

We'll see what, if anything, comes back.

Update I done been had! Apparently the troll account is in response to LJ's free Pepsi product VGifts.

Also not going over well.

In which case, it is hilarious. Well done there Six Apart and Pepsi.

But then sometimes it turns out ok

I was late to work this morning. More common occurence then I'd like. I have yet another cold, which I blame on the appalling summer weather and our car decided today was a good time to have its water pipe break. As a result our little Rover is gushing all over the place. I missed my normal morning commuter train, kind of a blessing because the later one usually has seats and wasn't up to doing my morning walk.

I rode the tram to Victoria and then out again. At St. Peter's square I heard a conversation between a Spanish guy and a woman about getting to Old Trafford. Together they observed the map and tried to get him in the right direction. Both apparently missing that all trams, besides the Eccles line, now stop at Cornbrook. To get any further they have to take a bus from St. Peter's Square to all stops on the Altrincham line.

I sat, reading my paper, just about to do the Soduku and I heard a little voice in the back of my head. 'You should help him.' Angry, frustrated with humanity, I tried to push it away. 'No, Tiffany, you should help him. Remember what the public transport system was like for you when you came to England?' I sighed, resigned. Flashes of tears at Piccadilly station while I tried to make my way back to Wigan popped into my head. Flashes of broken languages in other foreign countries with understanding natives popped in my head. I had to help.

'Excuse me? She was wrong. You actually need to go back to St. Peter's Square.' I said, with trepidation in my voice. We disembarked at Deansgate, a place where I could smoke. I pointed the way he could go and where he count use the stairs. It turned out he was going to Old Trafford, the football ground, not cricket. 'Oh. Ok, come with me then. I'll take you to Exchange Quay. It isn't a far walk from there.' He was lovely, his name is Said from Alicante. He's studying economics at the University of Manchester in the Fall. Between my broken high school Spanish and his English, we managed to get things sorted.

Then it was the fare inspectors. More decisions, more little voices in the back of my head. He didn't have a ticket. I got off the tram with him. A burly inspector wandered over to us. 'Do you two have tickets?' 'I do, he doesn't. I don't think he understands the system very well.' In rapid English the inspector leaned forward and told him off. Said looked at me and spoke in Spanish 'can you translate? I don't understand.' I shook my head, my Spanish instructors were good, but not that good.

In a spark of kindness the Metrolink inspector did something I've never seen. He let me take him to buy a ticket at the machine and get on the next tram. Said told me I was beautiful, something I don't hear without a lot of make-up on and I took him to Exchange Quay. I pointed to the football ground and told him how to walk there and told him to avoid Ordsall. I would have taken him but was already an hour late to work. He seemed to understand and told me in quick Spanish I was a good person.

I'm not sure why I did it. It was the right thing to do and this week is slow. For me it was 30 minutes out of my day to help a lost tourist. For him it was less frustration and probably a way to farmilliarize himself with Manchester. He didn't try to take advantage and even invited me to the match tonight. (I can't go, deadline tomorrow for Samurai Warriors 2: Empires.) Overwhelmingly it's a reminder that just because DIY Steve steals your paving stones, and though it might be a struggle, becoming a jerk just isn't an option.

Taking Liberties

Our back garden better resembles a nature preserve. Due to scheduling conflicts (too busy drinking, cavorting, gaming, reading, working, studying, talktalkhelling) we don't have a lot of time to deal with it. So when our downstairs neighbor moved in last fall Mr. Me decided to let him have it. When he told me, the dark mist of 'this isn't going to end well' went down over my eyes. Even though our brownspace wasn't exactly a haven of gardening, it was ours and set definite boundaries. I couldn't put my finger on it but I knew there were problems afoot.

Sure enough, the new neighbor (designated DIY Steve) has started taking liberties. Mr. Me and I moved some paving stones to a small area under a tree so we could have tiny BBQs during the summer. We're not big outside people, crossing that threshold between inside (where we can pretend we don't live in the ghetto) and outside is difficult when you have sub prime examples of humanity all around. Mr. Me told him the only thing not to move were these stones. Leave the area alone.

I'm not the most observant of people. For the most part when it's not mini-BBQ time I'm fairly oblivious to small changes in the local environment. But for the last few weeks I've had a feeling something is missing and today I worked it out. DIY Steve gave our paving stones away to some random family member. This is on top of having a bonfire at 11:30pm last night.

I wish it wasn't true that a vast majority of people will take the mile if given an inch. But it so is. Part of me wants to scream in frustration, part of me wants to live in a cave with nothing to give or take. I dislike being a selfish, closed individual. My nature is to help and be generous but every time someone chips away at my generosity, some part of me just flails and dies.