Picking Your Battles

Sorry for the long absence I have been waging a war against the world.  In true Joolz fashion I have been fighting the forces of darkness.  However unlike the usual Joolz I have caved on the big stuff so I can win the smaller stuff.  This is where the 'picking your battles' part comes in.  You see it's all about priorities.

When I was looking to buy a house I did a full secret squirrel search on properties including research into planning permission on neighbouring plots.  To my horror, a few years after I moved in, I discovered my neighbour-but-one was starting to build something.  So I checked on the local council planning application list for that address and nothing came up apart from a shop sign application (the plot is in the shops garden) and an application for 4 two storey houses that was refused.  I rang the council and they had nothing on their records.  Then someone from their office rang me back a week or so after and said 'we have nothing on our system, what are they up to?' in a mock-british-bobby voice (I expected him to say 'ello, 'ello, 'ello what's going on 'ere then?).  So i filled them in and off the investigation went.  When I called them a month later I was told 'why Ms Bojangles that planning permission had been granted long before you moved in .... it was always on our system .... you must have searched incorrectly ... sorry it seems all logs of your telephone calls have disappeared'  and when I checked the information was suddenly there, right above the application for the shop sign and the first refusal.  The council refused to escalate the issue and when i asked for time-stamped data entry documents they provided me with very wishy washy bits of paper.  No time-stamp, it looked just like any old excel print-out.  So what would you do?  I now have houses looking into my garden.  I dropped this one, I planted trees instead :) 

Now I have challenged my council tax banding.  I have the smallest house in the street yet the houses range from band A-E and I am band E!!!  I found an old probate document (with the official seal in it and everything) in with my HIP report.  In 1987 the owner of the house died leaving all her savings, possessions and the house to her daughter, which came to circa£63,000.  Now all houses had their bandings assigned in 1991 depending on how much the house was worth at the time.  For a house to be classed as band E they had to be worth between £88,000-120,000.  So in 4 years the house supposedly went from being worth a max of £63K to £88K, that's £25K difference (close to 40% increase).  Ah ha but what about the house market boom of the late 80's??? yes yes I know but remember the house market crash of the early 90's!!! Using two methods I obtained a rough idea of how the market fluctuated during this time.

1) Nationwide house price calculator [House price calculator]. This takes into account the rise and fall of house prices in various locations.  I am classed as Outer Metropolitan.  I calculated how the house price would have varied between 1987 and 1991.  This site suggested that the maximum the house price would have increased by was 27% (= £80,000 which was about the national average at the time) and this was the second quarter of 1989.  By 1991 the price had floored to £64,000.  This means that the price was about the same in 1991 as it was in 1987.

2) I wikipedia'd the house price boom and crash of the 80's/90's [boom and crash graph] and saw that this agreed with the findings from 1) - UK house prices in 1991 were almost equal to those in 1987.  

So what a stroke of luck finding that document.  The VOA are now investigating.  They said they have the right to visit my house and look through my documents (I must remember to maintain a social stockpile of custard creams ... and I may accidentally slip a saucy pic in the pages of the probate ;).  So unless there is some monumental mistake I have made, or the houses in the street doubled in price between 1987 and 1989 I will keep fighting this one! 

On another note I lost my job.  Boooo I hear you say.  Well it turns out that the government can preach rules and regulations to the private industry but don't exactly like playing fair themselves.  Apparently I had to be dismissed before 2 years or i'd get redundancy rights! They advertised for my replacement a day after my dismissal, I applied, I did NOT get an interview.  Can they get away with this ... well according to them their policy states they can. I have asked for the actual reasons for why my contract was not renewed for a 5th time and 2 months later I am still waiting that reason.  Oh and how did I get my notice served?  I was told in front of a room full of my colleagues.  Did I appeal it ... hell yeah!!  what happened? I offered the appeal decision maker my evidence, he refused to see it and then upheld the dismissal on the grounds that he didn't see any evidence.  At the same time I made a claim to the employment tribunal court because of another little thing like my manager forgetting to tell me about a permanent position that was advertised.  I was livid, I had evidence, the fight was dirty but I was legalled up and I had the union behind me.  The problem was that I needed proper legal advice and I couldn't get the answers to the important questions.  I was spending hours and days surfing the web looking for clear cut advice or similar situations, but I found very little.  Time was dragging on and I felt like I was wading into a fight with my helmet on back to front and a lame horse.  As it turns out even if I had won the claim the reward would have been minimal, if i didn't get my job back they would only have had to pay me one week's wages.  So regretfully I withdrew the claim because ultimately I couldn't justify wasting thousands of the taxpayers money for a mere £200.  

The claim was taking it's toll on my little family, I was stressed and the kids were getting distressed.  There was other stuff going on that I was finding hard to deal with as well.  It was becoming unbearable.  So my decision was also based on the reasoning that if I was to overcome the issues at home, and regarding my health, I had to walk away from the bigger battle as much as I hated doing so.  

So there we have it.  We are not failures because we walk away from things we are successes when we know what fights to walk away from and what to hold on to with the determination of a monkey dangling over a crocodile.  I have still achieved a lot due to my fierce persistence and niggling habit of sticking ones nose into things but I know I will not win everything, and even if I could have won there are some things that are not worth sacrificing.

Yours humbly, Sir Joolz of Copout-alot

Painting it Black

Last year a friend suggested I write about mental health disorders.  I can't remember how we got onto the subject but I know that since that time I have rewritten the post about 5 times.  Sometimes I get to the end and then delete the whole thing.  Mental health, in particular depression, is very hard for me to describe let alone talk about.  I think the main problem was that I wasn't in 'that place' during my earlier attempts.  It is very difficult to write about a subject without being at the helm of an episode at that time.  However I now feel ready to try and write about it again.  I haven't had a bad episode in a few years but recent events have plunged me back down to that place.  It's not as bad an episode as I have experienced before but it's bad enough that I feel it won't take much before I am free-falling into the darkness again.

For me an episode is triggered by the feeling that I have lost control of everything.  I will have spent a lot of effort improving my quality of life and when events occur that threaten this I start to panic.  The result is that I try even harder to recapture my happiness.  I become stressed, and every thought in my head is focused on finding a way to fight the threat.  I start to feel suffocated, I become exhausted and I lie in bed, unable to sleep, trying to think of a way out of the hole I'm falling down.  The more control I lose the more desperate I become and the more I try to control the small things that before would not have bothered me.  I become irrational and my mood darkens.  The worst episodes stem from when multiple threats have presented themselves at the same time.  This is what has happened recently.  I haven't cooked a proper meal in weeks.  I do not shower as often.  I get angry very quickly.  I find faults in the smallest of things.  My relationship with my husband and children is strained.  I am tired ... all the time.  I don't want to participate in anything.  I have no patience with people.  I cry ... a lot. The worst of this is the strong feeling that life would be better for everyone if I wasn't here.  As soon as I get to this point I completely lose it and have a full breakdown.  Like a volcano that explodes after a steady build up in pressure everything comes out and it's usually loud, violent and can take time to cool down.  But it's not the explosion that's the dangerous part it's what comes after ... the silence.  When you have no more tears and no more energy.  When the sadness is still there and you still feel despair, but you also feel rational.  This for me is the dangerous moment, this is the fight or flight moment.  If you know someone who you suspect is depressed and who has suddenly gone quiet, this is when they need you the most.  A hug or a kind word could mean the difference between life and death.   

Ironically I have just watched an advert about mental health discrimination and how we should start a conversation to help end the stigma associated with mental health.  I once confided in a manager that I was being treated for depression.  I thought I would get some understanding, and hopefully someone I could confide in when I was feeling 'under the weather', but instead he used this against me.  Over a period of 2 years he subjected me to bi-monthly meetings where he told me that I was a poor employee with an attitude problem, even though my appraisal reports said the contrary.  These meetings could last 1-3 hours and he wouldn't let me go until he had reduced me to tears.  If I complained he would tell his managers that I was 'over sensitive due to my depression'.  In a grievance meeting he asked me what medication I was on as potential side effects could explain my attitude.   No action was taken against him for this, or for any of the 'meetings' he had arranged.  Apparently this was his right as a manager.  I knew that I had to leave when one day, after another brutal meeting, I found myself under a table with a scalpel, wanting to end it all.  I moved on but I vowed from that day on never to tell anyone about my depression, especially managers.  Even with family I feel that if I was to mention my past depression, or that I felt depressed, they would think I was making it up or exaggerating my situation. 

Then there are the tablets.  Fluoxitine and Citalopram were my poison.  Did they work, yes.  Did they cure my depression, no.  I was aware that my happiness was false.  It was like someone else had control of my mind.  I became overly happy, manic even.  In October 2008 I took myself off the tablets.  I struggled through the next year. I moved house, I was made redundant and I was pregnant.  I had to disclose my depression to the midwife who recorded in my notes that I was a post natal depression risk.  Strangely enough being a mother had the opposite effect.  I had this little person in my arms who relied on me and I controlled every aspect of her existence.  I was focused and I was happy.  I haven't been completely free of depression but I had been coping better.    

So what about counselling?  I have tried that as well.  The NHS allowed me to have 3 sessions and those sessions helped me more then a mountain of tablets.  I sometimes wonder why doctors are so ready to dish out the pharmaceuticals yet restrict the availability of this vital service.  To stop a volcano erupting you would need to steadily release the pressure not just poor cold water over the top once a day and hope that does the trick.  Talking helped, so maybe this conversation initiative, organised by Mind and Rethink Mental Illness, has some merit to it.

Time to change, Lets End Mental Health Discrimination.  

Those that know me would probably tell you that I am a happy person with a good life, and probably would never suspect that I could ever be depressed.  This makes it worse.  I feel like I have no right to be depressed, and that by allowing myself to fall back I have let myself and all those around me down.  I know others who have depression, they didn't tell me I just knew.  I think that everyone must know someone that they suspect has a mental health problem.  Many would just choose to ignore the signs, or avoid the person completely.  OCD, eating disorders and personality disorders etc have a stigma attached to them.  We are given guidance on how to respond to someone with a physical disability but not much out there to help those with a mental health problem.  

Just by typing all this out I can feel myself relaxing.  The millions of thoughts tangled in my head have started to straighten out and file themselves accordingly.  This calm feeling may go away after a few hours and my sadness may reappear tomorrow but at least for just a few hours I can forget.  I can play with my child or talk to my husband without snapping or crying.  For just a few hours I can look at the wall and not want to paint it black.

Big Hugs, Joolz

Student Groans

Dear generous people at the Student Loans Company,

It has been 13 and a half years since you proudly invested in my future.  On a warm and sunny August morning after my A-level results had been collected and I had discovered that I had been accepted into a modest University (It did not matter to you that it was once a polytechnic!) you gladly and willingly provided me with the financial means to kick start a long and successful career.  You sent me off like a delicate yet excited butterfly, with faith and hope in your heart that one day I shall make something of myself and gladly repay your kindness and low rate of interest.  You may have cheekily imagined that I would wrap the final  payment around a lavender scented candle (bought from a pretentious boutique no less) to express my gratitude.  I therefore feel that it is only fair that I update you on my progress over the years ....... 

You will be pleased to know that I did fairly well during my studies.  My academic year was one of the first that was introduced to self-paid tuition fees, but thankfully you had provided me with the funds to pay them.  Despite your kindness, having to pay student fees meant I also had to hold down a part time job to pay for silly things like accommodation and food.  In addition to this I had to arrange a weekly allowance from my parents as a top up to supplement those times I had to attend my classes and work on my assignments.  But like a good citizen of this great country I plodded on and battled through those 3 years to obtain an upper second class degree (with honours may I add ... yes I know, you expected nothing less of me).  My student life was a typical one and although I didn't have as wild an experience as some of my fellow peers I look back on those days with fondness and a knowing smile.   You may be pleasantly surprised to know that I also obtained a higher degree with distinction.  I had to cheat on you a little bit and arrange a personal loan to cover the costs but as you don't generally deal with the post grad elite I knew you wouldn't mind.  

Like a beaming parent you will be ecstatic to find out that I did indeed enter into the career I had coveted since I was 12 years old.  Applications ran into their thousands and yet I was deemed special enough to warrant a place amongst these working angels.  I worked diligently and learnt fast.  Unfortunately this was where it started to go wrong, this is where our hopes and dreams for the future started to fall apart like a well cooked leg of lamb.  

The pay was bad ... I mean it was appalling.  The knock on effect was that I couldn't afford to get on the housing ladder, or even rent a flat by myself.  I expected to start at the bottom but the forecast was bleak.  Inflation was rising and annual pay increases paled in comparison.  As my manager delicately put it "put up with it or leave, there are thousands willing to take your place".  So with sadness I left for pastures new and a slightly better salary.  This also failed to bare fruit as my new destination was a mess of confusion and bad temperament.  Micro managing tactics had bred poor practices and dodgy line managers.  When redundancies were announced I volunteered myself to leave this impending disaster behind.  There was no sadness in this instance.      

But wait there is a small speck of light at the end of the tunnel.  I had married a few years beforehand to a lovely man (who fortunately for me was already a few feet on the property ladder) and we had our first child on the way.  We had also managed to find our first home, a little detached bungalow (2009 was a big year for us).  We had to compromise and get a run down building in an area with lots of 'character' but we were one more rung up that creaky old ladder!  For the following two years we were paddling upstream against a strong current but we fought on with true grit and determination.  I managed to find a part time job which topped up the household income .... if only slightly.  Competition for jobs and childcare costs had cornered me into the realm of 'low paid, part time job' because apparently I am not a desirable candidate for a 'well paid full time career' (oh and how I would be flogged by the Daily Mail community for being such a bad, uncaring, selfish mother if I dare return to work full time ... I am on a knife edge as it is for dipping in and out work "when I feel like it").  I can sense your disappointment in me, but I must get brownie points for keeping a foot in the door of the working world when so many have been pushed out, or have given up trying.  

At this point in time Britain is struggling to be great and our kingdom is no longer united.  The financial institutions had screwed us all over royally and the squeezed middle is baring the brunt of it.  Neighbour has turned against neighbour and everyone seems to need to know what great deal everyone else is getting.  For us, as parents, when we suffer financially those without children would scream with paranoid fury that "you shouldn't have had children if you couldn't afford them!".  There is no compassion anymore, there is no understanding.  I felt this today when other passengers pushed me out of the way and climbed over my children's buggy to get ahead of me as I was struggling to exit the bus (sad face emoticon).  Prices have soared, companies are going onto administration, taxes have risen, the value of a customer is no longer important, insurance companies are corrupt and MP's are demanding a 32% pay rise whilst they promote a cap on everyone else's at 1%.  However, throughout all this and through clever degree level tactics I have cleared debts and maintained a good credit score.  I am presently trying to secure finance for a much needed family car and you would think the main lenders would welcome me and my fantastic financial maintenance with open arms .... will they bugger!!  

Anyway I digress.  So as it stands I am presently considering my options as I masquerade in the lowest rank of the civil service.  I am hanging by a snippet of red tape due to not being able to secure a permanent contract after 20 months (long story and nothing to do with my performance may I add).   I can't even give you the confidence that I will eventually rise through the ranks towards independent success.  There is no future career for me in this job because there are no promotions from my level.  I do sincerely apologise for not being able to steadily contribute to my loan over the last 3 years but I am a victim of circumstance, a slave to the law of sod.

You must be heartbroken that I have let you down in such a way when your initial hopes for me were so high.  Rest assured I will keep trying, Illegitimi non carborundum and all that jazz.  Don't lose faith and don't write me off when I reach 50!  

Deeply remorseful, Joolz

p.s. it may be interesting to know that my husband was on the grant scheme and he paid his student loan off in ten years.  He is doing very well, you would be very proud x

Dancing into Diversity!

What would you do if your friend asked you and your husband to accompany them and their wife to a ball?  Ooh what a lovely invite, a chance to dress up in your finest, to shake the dust off your finest undergarments and sashay around for a few hours in the fanciest frock you can find in the darkest recesses of your wardrobe - in the section marked 'Bought for loads of money years ago and yet to be worn' (yeah I bet most of you have one of those too).   Now what if your friend said it was a special type of ball for a select group of people and their friends and families?  Intriguing!  How would you react if your friend, who happened to be male, said it was a transgender ball and that he was going as his female alter ego?  Oh lordy! 

For quite a lot of people this last bit of information may have been the deal breaker, the undies would have been put back in the drawer (or loft if you're scared your mum may find them during one of her routine 'just looking for the remote' searches) and the dress stuffed back into the wardrobe where it hopes it won't be another 7 years before it sees the light of day! 

However JB and I have known about our friend's alternative personality for a while now so we were up for a well earned night out regardless of gender identity, sexuality or political influences (however I will stop at TOWIE enthusiasts!).  From the point of invite I was curious about the transgender world, I am a generally curious person any way, and the following questions kept popping into my head: 

1) What am I to expect?:  Mechanic types in skirts and flaming queens maybe.

2) What do I say?  Maybe saying nothing at all will stop my mouth from insulting an entire society of people already anxious about how the general public may view them.

3) What if I accidentally get hideously drunk and do something to upset my friends?  

The one thing I did not worry about was whether I would feel uncomfortable mingling in a world that at that point in time was so unfamiliar to myself.  My friend had been open about 'Abi' not long after we became friends and welcomed any questions.  I therefore felt prepared enough not to be uncomfortable.  If I had have been I wouldn't have gone.  I had been introduced to Abi some time before the ball and was quite amazed by the transition.  Overall the ball was an experience I welcomed.  

So the night arrives and we make our way to one of the transgender social events of the year .. 'The Enigma Ball' with JB and I firing off a few last minute questions to get us in the spirit of things to come.  We arrived at this amazing building and was met by friendly people and a free glass of sparkly loveliness.  The first thing that I noticed was the dazzling display of colourful dresses.  Most of the dresses were obviously bespoke as I had never seen anything like them before.  My favourite of the night was the aqua green peacock inspired creation worn by one of the ladies.  In addition to this there were elegant 'dinner with the ships captain' gowns' (as I call them) and this-seasons-fashion ensembles.  Abi had opted for a pop art baby doll print dress with (in my opinion) chic Japanese style accessories and she looked fantastic.  

The four of us grabbed another glass of something refreshing and made away around the rooms.  I was introduced to Abi's friends and met the team from Femesque who help transform men into the women they feel they really are.  The ball had a swing band called the SwingSmiths who were really awesome.  Swing is possibly one of the few music genres that has not featured in my dancing past so this night was a new experience in many ways!  I posed for pictures, made conversation with quite a few people and laughed with many.  It became quickly apparent to me that there was nothing unnatural about this night, about this way of life.  The experience was better than I expected and I had expected a good standard initially.  I had the fortune to meet many interesting people such as Roxy, Alice and Brianna as well as many more whose names have been lost in a haze of loud music and the effects of free flowing happyjuice (to those whose names escape me at the moment I apologise profusely).  I would have loved to have taken may pictures of the night to place on my blog but after thinking about it for a bit and out of respect for those who are not as open about being transgender as my friend is (and how public the internet is) I decided against it.   Instead you may see a picture of the fabulous 'Me' in my 7 year old never been worn before dress (so old it's probably back in fashion!)

Some of the ladies were accompanied by their wives, some by their husbands, some came with friends and some came on their own.  Some of the ladies, like my friend, were open about their female side to friends and family and I met a few wives and partners  who were happy to tell me about their lives inside and outside the transgender world.  One lady gave me the impression that the desire she had to be a woman was a secret no one in her family knew about.  There were even some women there dressed as their male persona.  Every account was different and I began to understand that there is no accurate definition to describe what being transgender actually is.  The descriptions I had researched online explained it in black and white terms, but at the ball the picture was a lot more colourful.   

The night came to a close too soon and before I knew it I was back in the car on the way home.  I remember falling asleep just as we stopped for a post party Maccy-D's.  The morning after a very wobbly me gave an account of the night to my parents.  I commented on how feminine and elegant all the ladies were, which according to my mum and JB was far more elegant than your beloved Joolz was when I rolled up to the front door at 2am clutching one shoe and a burger box (which I was convinced was the other shoe) like chav city's version of Cinderella !! (Oh dear and in front of the parents too - eek!) 

So to sign off on this experience I shall say that I am very grateful to my friends for letting JB and I into their world.  There was nothing bad to report and I feel I am richer for the experience.  JB's contribution to this blog is "a fun and interesting evening full of friendly people" and I agree wholeheartedly.  

With deep respect, Joolz x 

For the Love of Charity

Hello fellow bloggers!  

A few months ago a friend and myself decided to take on a great challenge for the benefit of human kind.  Neither of us can run for toffee so we decided to power walk our way through a marathon distance.  I waited patiently for news of a registration date to be announced.  When I knew the date I merely had a few more weeks to wait before I could enter it myself.  Today was that day!  Just before 9am this morning I was poised nervously at my computer, refreshing every minute, waiting for registration to open.  Bang on 9am I registered my details and paid my fee.  A few minutes later I had received the conformation e-mail that I was in.  I am going to be part of one of the most anticipated charity events in the UK. I, Joolz Bojangles, will be taking part in the Walk the Walk London 2013 Moonwalk Marathon! 

For those that are unaware of this event it is a sponsored charity event which raises money for breast cancer research.  The event is held overnight and the full distance is 26.2 miles.  The story of the 'Walk the Walk' charity is quite an amazing one and I encourage you to read the following link for more information: The 'Walk the Walk' charity and how it all started.  

I know women who had completed previous London Moonwalk's and have heard great reviews about it.  I have also known a women who had breast cancer and I have seen how unrelenting the condition is. I think about my family and I especially think about my children.   I hope one day in their life time we may find a cure for cancer.  A lot of research needs to be done and a lot of money needs to be raised in order to do this, but once we find that cure the world will be revolutionised.   I  want to do my bit for my children's generation and 2013 is going to be the year that I stand up against this condition.  I may only raise £100, but that's £100 extra in the pot! 

Some people will think 'Pah! walking isn't much of a challenge' - well I have read some of last years testimonials and I am actually scared that I'll end up a collapsed on the side of the road.  So I have to train for this event and I have 6 months to get racing fit!  In all honesty I am actually looking forward to it.  I shall post updates on my training and sponsorship links, and will let you know how the main event goes.  

"For the fun, for the challenge, for the fight against breast cancer" Joolz Bojanges (Nov 2012) 

x

Customer Disservice

Why oh why in this day and age do I find myself having legal arguments with big name stores over things as petty as a damn blanket!  Does business reputation and customer satisfaction not mean anything these days?  Do some companies think that their size makes them impervious to being toppled by a simple self-richeous know-it-all as they hide behind their loopholes sniggering at how damn clever they are at getting one over the average Joe?  

'Customer Services' - the words themselves create hope that the injustice you have suffered will be rectified via a speedy investigation.  In my (sometimes warped) mind I picture the scene where my complaint is immediately received by an eager ray ban wearing avenging angel who rapidly hits the alarm sending red lights streaming and sirens blaring across the futuristic 'minority report' style office space.  Cut to a group of highly skilled private detectives gathered around a table listing the issues I have highlighted and pinpointing their origin with every reference number, order number, store number, item number and CCTV (accumulated in nanoseconds) at their disposal.  Within minutes I have received notification that the Customer Service Investigators (CSI - see what I did there!) has resolved my issue and that a replacement is on the way along with video footage of the greasy haired prepubescent cretin who caused me to write a complaint being given a public bollocking before being frogmarched out of the store with his p45 in hand!  Never happens though does it!  It's more likely that you'll get an over worded formal (and now pretty standard) version of 'Tough Shit!' That's if you get any response at all.

'Terms and Conditions' - Designed to be millions of pages of size 2 font constructed in such a way so that 99.9% of consumers will be discouraged from reading them (how many of you have simply clicked 'I agree' button at the bottom without checking the T&C first?).  For all you know they could have written that on the third Friday of every month five clowns will descend on your doorstep to pillage your knicker drawer of your finest undergarments and charge you for the privilege.  But you can bet your granny pants that somewhere, sandwiched in the deepest realms of their alleged watertight alibi there will be the phrase 'Your statutory rights are not affected'  Ah ha! a lifeline!  The best explanation of this phrase that I have found is as follows:

"You often see signs in shops at the counter which say ‘this does not affect your statutory rights’. But what does this mean? What we are talking about here are the legal obligations of retailers and suppliers to protect consumers from fraud, poor quality, misrepresentation or economic loss. The sale of goods is subject to the inclusion of these statutory rights (or terms), whether or not a written contract exists and whether or not they are specifically mentioned at any stage. Any attempt to mislead you or deny you of them is illegal!"

(http://whatconsumer.co.uk/what-are-my-statutory-rights/)

I strongly advise UK residents to read this (and the equivalent document for non-UK residents).  It summarises the key points in The Sale of Goods Act 1979 (http://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1979/54).  

Recently I undertook a mission (one of my many missions) on behalf of my mum who was having difficulties obtaining a replacement for a faulty item that had been delivered the day before she made her initial complaint.  My mum had splashed out a small fortune on one of those swing/climbing frame/slide/treehouse combinations for her growing brood of grandchildren.  One of the extras she had paid for was a baby swing for my 8 month old son.  When the item arrived it was packaged in layers and layers of plastic packaging.  The heavily accented foreign driver had thrusted the delivery sheet at my mum, demanded a signature, entered the property and dumped the items before quickly driving off.  After sending an e-mail to the supplier she got the following response from customer services 'you signed the form saying that you checked the item therefore we will not replace it, however feel free to purchase another one'.  My mum replied that she had signed for delivery only and they replied that she had 'ticked the box' to say she had checked the items.  'Ah ha I exclaim again! You see in this country the burden of proof is always on the prosecutor (i.e. the supplier in this instance) they have to collect the evidence and bring the case, the onus is never on the defendant (i.e. my mum) to prove her innocence.  In my opinion a 'tick' is not proof of anything, a 'tick' can be administered by anyone.  However they were adamant that they were covered legally and had not abused mums consumer rights.  They even stated the following "This must end our correspondence on this issue as we have given you a reasonable answer. Please note we will not reply on this issue further".  Well Joolz QC was on the case, it was now my turn to play prosecutor, and if I was going to take them down I was going to do it in style! I obtained detailed pictures of the fault, I trawled the internet researching my consumer rights, I located the registration information for the supplier and noted down their primary address and their registered address and I found out who their managing director was and details of any shareholders.   I even read their epic terms and conditions.  I called Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB), who automatically has to report them to trading standards (TS) and I sent the supplier one of my strongly worded letters which included the following:

a) the issue behind the complaint

b) facts of the purchase

c) details regarding the correspondence to date including copies of the e-mails sent by customer services     

d) events surrounding the delivery and any witnesses that were present when the item was opened.  I also put in a brief concern about their quality control and the potential health and safety implications of their products 

e) a paragraph about how their own driver violated their own terms and conditions by entering the property when he was only insured to deliver kerbside, therefore invalidating their insurance and possibly the terms and conditions as a whole ... oh and that mum had CCTV to prove this

f) 'the kick in the nuts' - quoting the Sale of Goods Act 1979 that their item was not fit for purpose, that they are duty bound to offer a repair/replacement/refund and that any item that develops a fault in the first 6 months of purchase is deemed to have had that fault at the time of purchase and a repair/replacement/refund must be offered (irrespective of whether a note that the item had been checked by the customer is in existence).  The failure of the company to acknowledge mums consumer rights was in fact an illegal offence contrary to the Act mentioned. 

g) an annex including pictures of the fault

h) a final comment that CAB and TS had been notified.

I made two copies of this document and sent them by recorded delivery to the Managing Director at two addresses found online.  We received a replacement and an apology (although phrased as a 'goodwill gesture') within a week ... which was broken.  I contacted them again and received a replacement within a few days without question.  

We are in an economic crisis, food costs and bills are going through the roof as our salaries stagnate below inflation.  Do bullyboy companies think we are going to lie down and take being ripped off and conned out of the few pennies we have left.  They use pseudo-polite threats to scare you away from ensuring they stand by their legal obligations.  Now there are some companies, normally small ones, who do slip by the wayside but do not let their incompetence be confused with criminality. 

So to anyone branded with the job title 'Customer Services' beware my wrath, you will not be free from my quest for consumer justice until I am pushing up flowers with my army of worms!! 

Joolz x

Good Advice, Bad Advice

Ok my blog title is 'In My Experience ...' and although this subject isn't technically directly related to any experience I have had I feel that it's important (and ridiculous) enough to make it a topic of discussion.  So today I shall be blogging about 'giving advice/advice columns', in particular those that advise on self inflicted situations.  Now I have had my fair share of girls and boys crying on my shoulder about one thing or another, normally about the other sex and normally instigated by funny flavoured water from the Devils cup of woe.  Obviously I am a good friend and I tell people what they want to hear: 'You deserve better', 'Your day will come', 'I saw their new girlfriend and she's soooo ugly' etc.  Even if you know that your mate was dumped because he/she was calling the other half 10 times an hour and had to be surgically removed from his/her side every time he/she stepped outside their front door you can not tell them that ... the rules are clearly outlined in the code of friendship dammit!! 

So what about strangers?  If a stranger came up to you and said "I just got served divorce papers because I slept with my wife's younger sister" what would you say?  No doubt if you are a woman you would probably say something like "serves you right you skirt chasing, cradle snatching scumbag, I hope your willy falls off!".  If you are a man you'd probably say "tough luck!" with an added pat on the back and a swift move to the other end of the bar, or (if like some men I know) you'd laugh and say "Nice One!" and buy him a celebratory pint before making the swift move to the other side of the bar.  One thing you probably won't do, unless outrageously drunk, is sit with them and discuss the merits of counselling and various other expensive and nonsensical suggestions.  So what about the advice given to strangers through our media outlets?

I have chosen the latest examples from probably the most well known advice columnist in the history of the UK.  I know this would be an admission to reading this type of tabloid but hey sometimes I like low-brow, especially when my mind has been melted by 8 hours of toddler conversation.  I will tell you that 10 years ago I obtained inside information, a rumour, that the famous columnist wasn't the person writing the replies to these lustful lovelorn beings .... nooo the columnist had an army of happy helpers, some of which do the overtime and write the pitiful stories in the first place! Even worse was that one of the happy helpers managed to wrangle it so that her son (my source) and his girlfriend could star in one of their semi-naked photo-problems ... why would you do that!!! 

Example 1: 'I still love my jealous ex and have been sleeping with her behind her new boyfriends back, but whilst I was being faithful on a stag do they were having it away like rabbits and now I am heartbroken' 
Advice:  Don’t become the other man. Tell her that if she cares she has to choose ... and then something about the ex being manipulative and that a leaflet about coping with jealousy is being sent to the writer.
My Advice:  You are a gullible fool who's being played like piano in a cocktail bar.  Move on.  Well done for keeping your wang in it's wallet during a weekend of temptation, maybe there is hope for you afterall. 

Example 2: 'My wife caught me at it in the back seat of the car with her 21 yr old niece and now my wife has left me'                      
Advice: Evils of drink, loads have done something regrettable, can your marriage be repaired, ask for forgiveness and say you were flattered by the attention and read a leaflet about coping with cheating.
My Advice: You are an idiot and she is unlikely to take you back.  I mean can you imagine the scene at every family occassion "ahh [to the husband] I think you may remember [niece] from her 21st birthday party, from what I heard you share a common interest in automotive interiors rah rah rah!"

Example 3: 'After cheating bullyboy of a husband brought home his latest conquest after a night out with the lads I filed for divorce but now my inner demon has appeared and I slept with seven men in 48 hours and I feel like a prostitute'
Advice: Some psychology about no-strings sex preventing the writer from being hurt again, learning to love yourself and a suggestion to read a leaflet about being hooked on casual sex.
My Advice: Whoa!  get yourself down to the local sexual health clinic pronto!  If you are going to go through men like a pack of Pringles have the decency to protect the sisterhood who come across these men long after you've had your wicked way!  Oh and unless your are exchanging your services for pocket money you are not a prostitute just a common slapper. 

OK so maybe I wouldn't make the best advice columnist in the world, in fact I would probably have my arse (that's ass for you Americans out there) sued with more frequency then  a picture of a semi-naked woman on the phone being featured in the column mentioned above!  Can you imagine if I was a negotiator in a crisis!: (them)"I'm gonna jump, I mean it" (me)"don't do it, it's not the only answer ... but if you are certain it's the only option in your life at the moment can you wait 5 minutes so that I can move my car?".   

I have read columns from other media sources and none really match the same level on the silly-scale.  It's like an episode of EastEnders (non-English people think of your most depressing soap opera where everyone dies, leaves or gets happily married before suffering some tragic fate) a bit of a light hearted look into the suffering of others to make our lives seem a hell of a lot better. 

Another source of advice I have come across recently is in the form of blogs (sort of like this one).  I have laughed hysterically at some young men telling their friends how to get the girl of their dreams by using the tried and tested 'treat them mean and keep them keen' method, only with the added aspect of the blog being lost in translation and coming across as a psychopaths guide on how to emotionally destroy the object of their affections, lead them into a false sense of security and then make them a slave to their every whim ... actually if this is not a translation error then maybe I should report them!! 

So what is the correct way to dish out advice?  Shall we sugar-coat the truth to protect our pals from admitting something they probably, deep down, already know?  Should we be more sympathetic towards the stranger at the end of the bar drowning their sorrows in a pint of Bishops's Finger?  Or maybe ripping off the plaster quickly is the kindest option because it removes the cruel hope that lingers every time someone says things like "he'll/she'll come around" when we know that he/she is already talking marriage with their newest squeeze.  I am also sceptical about how useful these advice columns are.  Do they really think a relationship can survive a worst case scenario by getting both parties to sit down together in the same room without shouting, belittling and throwing heavy items and read a leaflet!!

Maybe one day it will be me who writes into an advice column:  "No one wants to be my friend because .... 1) when they ask if an outfit makes them look fat and it I does I tell them so: 2) when male friends ask me why they can't get girls I tell them it's because they have the sexual charisma of a slug: 3) when a girly friend asks why their ex doesn't like them anymore I say it's probably because [my friend] is sitting here looking like a melted Kiss waxwork and he's over there getting pounced on by a younger slimmer blonde with bigger boobs" 
  
Maybe honesty is not the way forward! 

Yours Faithfully, Joolz x