Wednesday, 25 April 2012
Consumer warrior extraordinaire
It's not that I complain a lot. Just that I like it! Don't get me wrong, I don't like having reason to complain, but give me the chance to write a strongly worded e-mail or letter and by God, I'll jump on it. I discovered my - heck, it's a talent, let's not mince words - ability for complaining way back at University (although I'm sure my first boyfriend would claim I liked to complain waaaaaaay before then) when I bought some cheese that had gone mouldy in the pack. I wrote off to head-cheese-office and received a £2 voucher in the post. Yes, the compensation may have been paltry, but the victory I felt surpassed all financial gain and thus I had caught the bug. Since then there has been the Mothercare price-error, (advertising a car seat at a ridiculously cheap price and then claiming an error even though they had taken people's orders) in which all I went all out in my complaining, even setting up a Facebook campaign. Social media has done much for the modern complainer you see, enabling our chunterings to reach a far wider audience. Unfortunately this particular complaint resulted in a big fat nothing except for rehashes of the same e-mail, but not for lack of effort I might add. There was the time I impaled my heel on the pin of a security tag that had fallen inside a shoe I was trying on, and received £50 for my 'injury'. Then there was the time my daughter found a dinosaur bone (ok, chicken bone) in a goujon and nearly broke her teefs. So mummy dutifully penned an e-mail, complete with photographs of said bone attached, and received a giftcard for £50 as recompense. Of course, I would much rather darling daughter had not had to experience chewing on something the size of a hamster, but as it's not put her off breaded poultry bums, there's no real harm done. And tonight, my attention is to be turned to an e-mail of complaint to another supermarket chain after I placed their chicken and vegetable bake in t'oven according to instructions and went off for a shower. When The Husband came home, he took said bake out of the oven and proclaimed it unsuitable for human consumption as the entire plastic tray it was in had melted! Yes, the top had gotten slightly burnt (I accept no responsibility for this; I was in the shower and left The Husband in charge of tea), but surely the containers they provide for cooking should be able to withstand the actual cooking process? So move over Lyn Faulds-Wood and Gloria Hunniford, there's a new moaner in town, and let's just hope the makers of that chicken and vegetable bake haven't caught me on a bad day!