Why is it that Lord Oakwood today had to drive into Hamwic (and right down to the bottom of Hamwic where the sea used to lap against the walls), pay to park, and go to his bank to get a telephone number from a cashier who couldn't have cared less about his problem, then drive all the way back home to Oakwood Hall to make a phone call to the Fraud line of his bank?
Lord Oakwood, being a traditional sort of a cove, doesn't subscribe to any sort of technology. He has a mobile phone, but it makes phone calls. It doesn't connect him to the rest of the Universe, surround him with apps for this and that, or allow him to watch porn or YouTube on demand. It's a phone. Computer, pads and tablets (unless medicinal) are not on his radar. He knows about radar, natch, but that's pretty much where technology ends for him. He still uses paper maps, for goodness sake.
Anyhoo. Lord Oakwood received his bank statement. He gave it a cursory glance to make sure that his regular incomings had in come, but was rather puzzled to find a mysterious entry for a debit of £7.99 to Amazon. For a ''download''. Rather in the way of Rowan Atkinson's judge, who tremulously queries, ''A di-gi-tal WATCH???'', he quizzed Lady Oakwood about what this mysterious item might be. She was none the wiser, although she DID understand that some scammy bastard appeared to be buying music with Lord Oakwood's debit card - and that that person wasn't Lord Oakwood.
Lord Oakwood went straight to the telephonic device in the hallway, found the telephone directory, and phoned the number given for the bank. Which didn't, of course, put him through to his ACTUAL bank, but instead linked him into a gigantic and convoluted Game of Numbers, requiring passwords he doesn't have (as he doesn't do telephone banking) and number combinations he didn't understand. After several minutes of fighting with both his hearing aid AND the labyrinthine ''system for your convenience'', he gave up and tried another tack. He got out his debit card and looked on the reverse. There was a number for Fraud. He rang said number. That number linked him straight back into the Game of Numbers, despite it being a different number to the bank number he'd already phoned. He was stymied.
Stuffing the statement into his pocket, and stalking irritably to the garage, Lord Oakwood got the motor out and set off to Hamwic, secure in the knowledge that there would at least be a real person to talk to at the bank. There was, indeed, a real person behind the counter at the bank. However, she could not have been in the least bit interested in his problem. She scribbled a number on the back of a piece of paper and told him to phone the Fraud line. The number she gave him was completely different to the number on the back of his card. A decent bit of customer service would have been to offer to phone the Fraud line for Lord Oakwood there and then, but that didn't happen. As Lord Oakwood later spat, when recalling the situation over supper, ''It wasn't even as though there was anyone else in the bank. She (the cashier) wasn't even doing anything when I arrived''. If he was a man capable of harrumphing, I think he would have let one rip, so exercised was he.
Back he came to Oakwood Hall, still with his problem unresolved, but with a number to call. He called, explained, and it was all sorted out - as was the second debit from his account, for the same sum, which actually went out of his account as the Fraud Officer was looking at it. That, as the Fraud Officer said, ''proved'' that Lord Oakwood's account had been compromised. Lord Oakwood could not have been downloading from Amazon at the exact same time that he was reporting a fraud.
Lord Oakwood is a healthy, sprightly chap (as those of you who know him IRL can attest). There are no flies on him, he has a full set of marbles, and he's fully able to stand up for himself. He just doesn't ''do'' technology. It saddens him beyond all reason that he can no longer make a simple phone call and speak to a person when he needs to. It annoys him that businesses and service providers assume that everyone is linked in to the digital highway, and that there's no way through for him without jumping through hoop after hoop after hoop, which he can't do. He feels disenfranchised. More than that, he's really pissed off that some toe-rag has nicked money from his account.
Lord Oakwood has gone out to see his friend this evening. Lady Oakwood is rather hoping that when he returns, he'll have got his mojo back. His bank card is another matter entirely...
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