Where is my phone?

Word of caution: If you are looking for a happy ending or do not like whining write ups stop reading right here. If you are some kind of an activist, who believes in that we as a world are moving towards 1984 and wants to do something about it or if you are one of those people who forwards anything and everything that you read to a million people, please read on and spread my message of good will.

The first time I saw the Evo on Youtube, I fell in love with it. I wanted one for myself. But for some reason, the people at HTC thought that the Evo was no good for Europe and announced its prettier cousin, the HTC Desire HD.

From that day, every day, I read and reread every bit of everything there is on the web about the Desire HD, until finally HTC announced that the Desire HD could be pre-ordered through a number of online retailers.

I chose play.com


That was the 18th September 2010. I was expected to receive the phone by the 11th October. But then HTC had issues with the launch that play.com emailed me a delayed delivery for the 19th October.

After a sleepless 18th Oct night, I worked from home on the 19th. As I eagerly sat by the door, time ticked very slowly and soon it was end of the day. I was updated on the 20th that the launch date was reset for the 1st November. Five days later, I received an email confirming that my phone was dispatched and that I should expect the phone in three to five days. I was also provided with a tracking number to track my parcel.


Three days later, it was day 4 and then day 5 and soon it was day 6 and no trace of my phone. On day 7 I called the courier company HDNL and I was promised that I will recieve the phone in 2 days.

Two days later, and another day working from home, the phone did not arrive. So I called the courier company only to be told that the phone was lost.

Logically, I called play.com customer service to inform them what I knew from HDNL. They acknowledged that the phone was lost and I was relieved that they did. Then came the bombshell. Though all parties knew that the phone was lost, I was told to wait for 21 days and call them again to tell them that the phone was lost for them to find me a replacement.

Their logic: Company policy. My IQ has to drop fifty points for me to convince myself that their company policy was brilliant.

After very many minutes of haranguing that the principle reason for pre-ordering a phone was to receive the phone long before most people could get it and that if I waited for 21 days to report that the phone was lost in transit, I could be looking at getting an outdated phone.

I heard a million ‘I understand Sir’s. But I am convinced the lady didn’t get a bit of what I said. Finally, she agreed to send me a refund/replacement letter, which I was to send to play.com at my expense. My £470 was in their bank account, so I had to consent.

A day later, the email had not arrived. So I called them again. This time there a new customer service representative who told me that my phone was dispatched on the 25th October. So I had to run through the entire story with her again and tell them one more time why the 21 day rule is so illogical. She agreed to send me a form and told me that she was sending it as we spoke.

A day later, when the email still did not arrive, I wrote to the customer service through their website the whole history of my problem. The form finally arrived.

Another £5 from my pocket for the special trackable delivery as suggested by play.com, off went the form to them. Having had no response from play.com for the next day delivery post, I called them 3 days later only to find that they had not processed my form. The lady promised she was doing it right away and put me on hold. After several minutes of listening to the same listless music, I was informed that my phone would arrive in three to five days. Seemed like a similar story, but I was optimistic. How many times can they possibly go wrong?

It turns out that they can surprise quite a few. A week later, having not received my phone yet, I called them one more time. The lady at the other end informed me that the phone was dispatched on the 25th October...

As I sit here and write this, I am perplexed at the height of customer service I have received. At two points in the so many times I have called them I mentioned to them that it would be a good idea to sue them for their callous attitude. Their replies were the same. ‘OK’. It seemed like they didn’t care. Why would they? They have my £470. Can I really do something about them? I doubt I could. I do not have the time nor the money to do something. But what would I do if I had the time and money? I would buy the company and rip it apart so there is no play.com. The world would be a better place with one stupid company less.

What is the probability?

Unlike me, my sister is full of dreams. I dream only twice a year - one in summer and one in winter. She dreamt of living in a large house with a wooden swing and a fish tank. So my brother-in-law, who is so full of love, and bank notes, bought her a house. My parents were overjoyed and planned to visit my sister and her new home.

Exactly two years ago, just before I left India to live in the UK, I gave my dad a blank cheque. I was not sure whether I had paid all my bills and thought a cheque with my dad would cover an emergency.

Exactly one year ago, I changed jobs within the company. The new job had many people calling me on my work mobile. Not wanting to fall for the trap and lose my virility any sooner, I started leaving my personal mobile at the bottom of my bag, while being holed up in all day constructive meetings.

The house my sister and her husband bought was liked by everyone. It was in a well to do area. It has two balconies, a swimming pool and a gym. And most importantly, it had a hefty price tag for both set of parents to boast about. Secretly though, my mom wished for a little more. She wished that her son had a place of his own too.

What is the probability of finding an unsold house in a fifteen floored building with six houses in each floor? What is the probability that of all days, on the day your parents want to ask you about a house they wished you bought, you were on an all day meeting with your phone dug deep in a far away bag? What is the probability that when five people are bidding for one house, your dad remembered the blank cheque you gave him a few years ago? And what is the probability that the cheque was still in his wallet and the number he thought to write on that cheque could clinch the deal and he did just that?

I am good with counting, but really bad with probability. But given that the person in question is me, I would say the probability is one.

And that is how I became a proud owner of a new home and an unmentionable amount of debt...

Jungle Book - Lost & Found

Six blokes, none with even the slightest experience of even having lived under a thatched roof are camping this weekend. The sprawling endlessness of our myriad and indomitable universe with its canopy of a gazillion twinkling stars will tranquilise us to our dreams. We basically will be lying flat on our backs on hard ground, shivering in the cold, looking up into the blank darkness and having a hard time to sleep. I was only showing off that I know words too. Anyway, it should be fun!

We have hired a van so that all the guys with all our worldly possessions - 2 litres of Jack Daniels, can leave all in one piece. We are also very confident of reaching the national park in one piece. We have two and half drivers - two with no experience of driving a van and the half who has just failed his driving test.

Given our credentials with directions and our testosterone levels that prevent us from asking for directions, there is a good chance that we may spend the rest of our lives as Georges in the jungle. But evil has always prevailed in this world and how can all the evil in the world be lost in a forest. So we are bound to be back to spread our gospel!

braIN damAGE

What is it with short sleeves?

For a long time in the brief history of mankind, men and women have done everything they could to be different from each other – men from women and women from men. They marked roles and responsibilities to support their collective survival, they reacted differently to similar situations which usually caused bewilderment to the other and they dressed completely differently although they lived in similar sweltering heat or spine chilling cold.

(Science digression: Neanderthals were supposedly a much more intelligent species than Homo sapiens. Whereas Homo sapiens divided their job responsibilities, Neanderthals wanted to do everything on their own. The Homo sapien men hunted the goat and the women collected bananas. So they had mutton Biryani for main course and banana pudding for dessert. But the Neanderthals, they all went for the goat and ended up throwing spades and spikes at each other and perished.)

But somewhere along the line, some woman with a tiny little chromosomal shakeup wanted what was inherently men's; in addition to what was hers. She wanted to do everything that men did. She wanted men's jobs; so she took it. She wanted men's clothes, so she wore pants. She wanted to be man, so she had sex with other women. This change caught on and before we knew a fair number of women folk wanted everything that was historically men's.

If I were to represent all men, I would have recommended that they relinquish everything wholeheartedly and keep only the TV, the PS3 and the couch for themselves. But some moron wanted a tit for tat and that is where everything went wrong. First came the low waist jeans. And then slowly one after the other the manicures, the chest waxes, the ear rings and the pink shirts came trickling along. That is all okay as long as we, the ones content with what we had, have a choice to be as we were.

But it is not to be. You no longer get a regular sleeved t-shirt that easily. (It is easier to buy a full sleeved t-shirt and cut the sleeves to the length you want.) T-shirts have to reveal biceps, however malnourished they may be. (It is not long before men shave their armpits and wear sleeveless t-shirts.) It is not a pretty site if you don't want to wax your biceps. And some of us with furry coats, that is not what we want to do. The fur is for winter.

I can manage with short sleeved t-shirts but I fear for what is to come in ten years. I could tolerate bearing my midriff but I couldn't tolerate piercing my belly button – from the looks of it, its going to hurt a lot :(

(Photo nicked from Dominik)