My Phone is Broken by Andrew Shephard

I was on holiday walking through the countryside in Spain when my mobile phone broke. The screen went blank and that was it – dead. Back home, I tried a few tips from the internet, most of which involved violence towards the phone. The tips didn’t work, so I went to a mobile phone shop, attracted by a special offer which was too good to ignore.

The bright and modern shop was busy. Staff in casual uniforms were attending customers browsing the latest amazing gadgets. But the happy consumer paradise was being spoiled by a man who was ranting and raving into a phone. He seemed to be trying to explain a problem to a customer service or computer expert on the other end of the connection. He spoke loudly but slowly, as if speaking to an idiot who only understood simple words. He kept repeating himself. The man’s frustration was embarrassing; I saw the shop staff and customers exchange glances which said, 'What a rude man to speak like that.' People gave him a wide birth as if he might suddenly go crazy and lash out at them.

While I was completing my transaction, the shop computer froze and my transaction was lost in the works. The bright young assistant apologised and tried three times to get my details back, blaming a new computer system that was causing some teething problems. I told her not to worry, I would return in a couple of days when it was sorted out.

Three weeks, several return visits to the shop, and over two hours on the phone to ‘customer services’ later, I was back in the shop. I had received an email from the Customer Service Special Team (my problem had been escalated) giving me the great news that my transaction could now be completed. I could pick up my new phone and be in touch with the world again.

The sun was shining and I walked into the shop with a spring in my trainers. The shop manager smiled at me like an old friend – I had become a familiar face. But when the transaction to register my new phone would not ‘go through’ the computer, for a different reason this time, the clouds rolled over my sunny disposition. I demanded to speak to their Supreme Leader. I was given a phone to speak to Customer Services.

I began calmly enough, but after ten minutes or so of explaining, very slowly, as if I was speaking to an idiot, my voice became harsh and anger powered my words. Hearing my own account of the inconvenience, injustice, expense, lost business, lost messages, lost pictures, lost contacts I had endured, I felt a duty to put things right, to correct the glaring faults in their systems and management.

There was a pause while Customer Services attempted to transfer me to another department. I looked around the shop. Seeing the nervous looks of the other customers and the averted eyes of the staff, I knew my fate. I had become the raving man I had seen on my first visit to the mobile phone shop.

My phone is broken

I live in the age of the smarter machine

So clever, yes clever, right clever.

I’m happier talking to a human bean

But never, not ever, no never.

Glasgow, the Valleys, fair Sunderland

So concerned, so kindly, so friendly

But really it’s Alice in Wonderland.

I’m helpless, quite hopeless, it’s fruitless.

The bean’s a small cog, a part, a device

A just-in-time manual taught to be nice,

Trained to smooth my frustration

Until I have ceased,

And accept that at least

I’m part of the beast

Not outside of the feast.

How lucky I am to be fleeced.

You live in the age of the smarter machine

It gets better and better, so clever.

Don’t rave. Join us, be part of the team

Be with us, together, forever.