Complaint: Metropolitan Line Rant

As I type this now, I must admit that the service has been much better this month on the Metropolitan line – or at least I’ve got lucky in terms of avoiding the signal failures.

However, one particular journey stands out from 2018 which was such a clusterfuck that I needed answers.  Would I get them?

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I guess I should be amused that you are trying to charge me £8.00 for the clusterfuck of a journey on Thursday 4th January, that took nearly 3 times as long as it should have.  Surprised you are not charging me for a season ticket just to really rub salt in the wounds.

So last week I was ill.  I’ve had a cold, I’ve had a comedown and a fairly extreme hangover.  I had already had enough when I got to Moorgate at on Thursday evening at 18:06 – a true centre of confusion.  A train was sat at the platform, doors open, going nowhere – though I couldn’t fit on it anyway.

Nobody announcing what was happening (or wasn’t), after a while some people got off the train, so I got on.  Then after a while, the train driver announced that there was a broken down train between Barbican and Farringdon.  So I got off and pondered my options.

At first I tried to get through the staircase to go to the Northern line – but it wasn’t going anywhere.  So I left the station by the other exit (I guess I mustn’t have swiped out), and ended up walking to Bank station.  Queued to get through the ticket barriers, waited for a tube I could get on, and stood close to a rather stinky woman – though I don’t profess to exhale flowers myself come 6pm.

So the Central line at rush-hour is minging.  Who knew?

Then I had a short journey on the Bakerloo line to Baker Street.  Which was actually quite pleasant – hell I even got a seat.  Albeit opposite someone who was either talking to himself or me – I pretended to be oblivious.

One assumed that seeing as the broken down train was between Barbican and Farringdon, that everything would be fine from Baker Street – perhaps a couple less trains.  But no, the whole service had collapsed.

Some mystery services were appearing on platform 2 despite the fact that the service was apparently suspended Aldgate to Baker Street – one assumes they must have been appearing from some parallel universe.  Not that it was any use to me, as I couldn’t get on any of them.

But there were trains on the two non-through platforms.  Due to leave in 1 minute.  This was one, long, possibly ever-lasting minute as both trains that I attempted to catch from Baker Street simply never went anywhere, despite a consistent promise that they were about to.

Your chaps then started advising people to use the Jubilee Line to Wembley Park – where a normal service was allegedly operating from.

Again, crammed on a tube, it eventually made its way to Wembley Park.  Where I then proceeded to wait forever for a Metropolitan line train due in “1 minute”.

I could go on, but this was the most appalling journey home – yet another service failure from TFL on the Metropolitan line.

So, some questions.  Why did the whole service seem to collapse?  Why are there no contingency plans to ensure a good service on the rest of the line away from the broken train?  Why were tube trains just sat there at Baker Street?  Why were trains perennially leaving in 1 minute?

Then I would respectfully like to ask for some refunds.  At the minimum, I should not be charged both the £8.00 and the £4.70 for the way home.  Any other company would offer reasonable additional compensation for distress, disinformation and delay.

Hoping that I actually get some answers to the service failure from last Thursday – I am sure there are many other severely frustrated passengers who would like an explanation too.

Regards

James Winfield

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Dear James

Thank you for your recent email about your contactless card refund.

I understand you sent in bank details to have a refund for a journey and I appreciate you contacted us.

I`m more than happy to inform you I`ve sent £12.70 to your bank account.

This is a manual bank transfer that can take up to five working days to show on your bank statements.

Further on your question automatic refunds are reversed back to payment cards as there is no human interaction but as this is a manual refund we’re not able to do so.

We highly recommend not sending bank details by email for security purposes. In this case there is nothing to worry about as your bank account number and sort code are just used to pay in but keep it in mind for the future.

I do apologise for the time consuming and I wish you all the best.

Thanks again for contacting us. If there is anything else we can help you with, please reply to this email. Alternatively, you can call us on 0343 222 1234 and we’ll be happy to help you.

Kind regards

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Customer Service Adviser
Transport for London Customer Services

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Of course, no answers. Things like this still happen.

Return Of The Rant: Is It Really Worth It?

I think I am having a moment.  Or I am about to have a moment.

Is it really worth it?  Do I really like it?  I’m not luvvin it, lovin’ it or loving it.

I don’t want to say too much as I know I am very good at foot in mouth syndrome and I am well aware from past history that anyone can, and does, read my blog, including the Russian mafia.  And the ex-manager that I referred to as The Internet Gestapo.  Though it did help me towards my eventual redundancy I like to think, which will have pleased Sven.  And The Met Office.  And some shitty US law agency.  And a surprisingly large amount of people based in Kensington.

Unlike Gordon Brown, I don’t have a particular destiny in life…oh to be Gordon Brown and know that your destiny is to be leader of your country.  I know secretly I am a leader, perhaps even the leader – who knows if I turned evil then maybe nuclear Armageddon would come the next day.  But I don’t think that is my calling.  Why do I do what I do every day?  Is there more to life than this?  Those are the questions of the day.  Not, do I want a fucking hot drink when I didn’t ask for one.

If anyone from Hull is reading, they would tell me to shut the fuck up or I’ll get a slap.  People from Hull don’t choose destinies.  They just have them.

Well, I like being different.

But I’m not that different am I?  I do the whole 9-5 thing like everyone else.  And I’m not exactly feeling the love for it this morning.  Oops foot in mouth syndrome again but what am I going to do about it?  Actually I was quite enjoying it but I don’t think they are so appreciative of me, I talk too much.  It isn’t beyond me to be quiet.  I think I can do it.  I have music to listen to which helps massively in keeping me quiet.  Sven, Ricardo, et al can keep me happy.  I don’t need to chat so much shit.

I just remembered that when I was younger, I used to ring random people and when they said hello, I would say goodbye.  Gosh, I was a naughty child.  And then there was when I called and asked to speak to Mr Wall.  When they said there was no Mr Wall, I would ask for Mrs Wall.  And then when they said there was no Mrs Wall, I would ask if there were any walls in the house.  And then when the said no, I would ask what kept their f***ing roof up.

Always the comic genius.

What do I really want in life right now?  I want to go storm chasing in America.  I want to experience the power of the tornado.  And I want to go to Japan.  Don’t ask me why, I just really want to go there.  So I guess I need to work to have any chance of doing either.  Though on my current wages and more importantly extortionate rent and bills (of my own choosing though), I won’t be doing them any time soon.  Unless I stay in every single weekend this year.  Yeah right.

So I guess the beat in my head goes on, life goes on, and I will keep doing what I am doing until I win one of the Rich For Life scratchcards or I find that elusive meaningful thing to do with my life, other than of course following in Sven’s footsteps after he subliminally told me via some cheap tacky Ibiza magazine that I needed to follow my dream and become a DJ and set up a my very own version of Cocoon – and two years later I managed it.  Kind of.  What next?

Anyway, I’ve had my rant, I’ve cleared my mind, two thirds of the world don’t have safe drinking water, 2 million people in the UK don’t have a job that claim to want one, and I can listen to Sven Vath at work all bloody day long.  How many people can say that?

Phew, I feel better now.  Life can go on.  What will be, will be.  Have a nice day, thanks for reading.

Until next time, or until I get sacked, jailed or shot by the Russian mafia a la Anna Politkovskaya.  Oops.  Foot in mouth again.

Oh my word, just 4 weeks until Sven Vath is in London.  Oooooh!  Please someone come with me.  You don’t have to, but it would be nice.  Everything I have heard from him this year shows he is absolutely on fire as much as ever – trust me.  I’m a DJ.

Ranting – I Have A Blog For That

I need a rant. Ooh, I’ve got a blog for that.

I appreciate that I should not rant about this on the internet but my frustration is boiling over. I asked my superior if I could leave an hour early next Friday, to which the reply was “Do you not realise that it is the last day for processing?”

Processing what exactly? The dearth of anything substantial to do is driving my mildly crazy. I am employed to make a contribution towards a company’s success. That generates personal satisfaction. I do not like sitting here all day doing jack. I can cope with it, I am learning new things, and entertaining myself.

But to be questioned as to if I really need to leave an hour early because there is the off-chance that there might be something to process? There are three of us anyway who could do it. I am led to believe that the proverbial shit does hit the fan sometimes, and I will be happy to stay if that is the case. But given that I have had nothing to process since Tuesday, I do not foresee this possibility.

Grrr.

I do really like the company I work for. And I know that there are lots of people out there who would quite happily be paid to read the news and listen to music all day. But I like achieving.

I’m sure I recall a chewing gum manufacturer had a song about my dilemma.

But to really rub salt into the wounds, I just went to go get a sandwich from the deli at the opposite end of the building, a tiring 5 minute walk away. Lamb carvery. But extremely tight on the meat levels. And the bread roll was rather dry.

But what really topped it off for me was the cutting in half of said sandwich. DO NOT CUT A MAN’S SANDWICH IN HALF.

I feel demasculated. Just because I like rosé wine does not mean I have grown breasts and therefore require my sandwich cutting in half.

Perhaps I should have paid attention and stopped her from doing so, but I was probably distracted by breasts, sorry, a rather attractive young lady that walked by.

Yes I know my subject is perhaps trivial in the grand scheme of things, it’s just a little light entertainment, after all the internet is a playground for us all 🙂

Get Out Of My Way Ignorant Fools!

It’s Monday morning and time for a moan. Perhaps I deserve a rubbish Monday morning due to having an excellent Sunday down the Oakford. It must be karma! And I thought I behaved myself, relatively speaking. I know I didn’t go to church this week. The thing I really want to moan about I am going to try to resist for a little longer due to the public nature of the internet and that it would probably not be to my benefit, but anyone who knows me well won’t take too long to guess what it is seeing as I was in a fairly good mood this morning despite a lack of sleep and slight hangover, and come mid-morning I am not so happy. But I expect to be in a better mood again this evening! I wonder what could be troubling me?!

The more important thing I need to set right is people’s inability to walk, and more importantly, not walk into people. It seems that I cannot walk anywhere nowadays, even within the very wide corridors of the building where I work, without someone trying their hardest not to acknowledge my existence and walk into me.

I make a lot of effort to move out of the way of people but sometimes it is just not possible. Sometimes I have a wall to the side of me, or some obstacles, and why the other people cannot see fit to get out of my way when I cannot physically move, I do not know.

And another thing – people walking slowly in a large group across the whole of the pavement. This is not necessary. Some people have somewhere to go. Can you not hear or sense someone behind you who might want to get past? Or even worse, combining my previous moan, when you walk towards a large group and they do not bother to make a tiny bit of space to allow you past.

Wake up people and start being polite and courteous.

Oh and one more thing – if I hold open a door for you, and normally I will go out of my way to do so – please say thank you. Just a vague acknowledgement that I have made the effort for you. I’m not asking for a kiss or a bunch of flowers, though money would be nice – or a hug – especially on a Monday.

I’m happier now I’ve had a moan. I still get paid at the end of the month. Ibiza and fabric still exist. I have beautiful friends. The Oakford is the best pub in the world and is a short walk from home. And I have M&S Toad In The Hole with broccoli and mange tout for dinner tonight. And I love writing my blog. Life is good and getting better. Enjoy your Monday.

And keep reading please – it makes me happy!