Hours away from having to begin transporting things from A to B, and thence to C, and having an incomplete towing assembly to not do the job with, I needed to sort out an alternative.
I googled ‘van hire Rugby’.
If you do that search, top of the list that google returns is ‘Europcar, Rugby’.
Marvellous.
I clicked on the link to the Europecar website, selected the type of van I needed, when I wanted it from, and how long I needed it, and ran a search.
The Europcar website said ‘Yes, we’ve got one of those, it will cost you this much to rent for 24 hours’.
Marvellous again.
I called the 0371 telephone number that the website offered me.
I tried not to let my heart sink when I actually couldn’t understand what the person who answered my call said.
I carried on regardless.
Me: Hello. I would like to book this van, and pick it up from your Rugby depot in about two hours time
Europcar: I’m sorry sir, could you spell that?
What?
Spell the whole fucking sentence?
Me: No. It’s a very long sentence and I have no intention of spelling every word. I have searched your website for a van of this size. That I want to hire. From your Rugby depot. Today. And return it tomorrow. The website says you have one available. I would like to confirm this.
Europcar: One moment please Sir. I shall check our systems for you.
[pause]
Europcar: Yes Sir, there is a van of that type available in our Rugby depot. I shall book it for you.
Hooray.
Me: I’ll get down to your Rugby depot in about an hour and a half to pick it up.
Fast forward a little under ninety minutes.
My hired taxi arrived and transported me down to the Europcar office. I hired a taxi because I didn’t want to leave my car outside the Europcar office overnight.
I rocked up to Europcar.
No actual public-facing reception as you or I would recognise it.
Very strange.
Oh sure, there was a sign that said ‘If reception is closed, please ring the bell’.
But there wasn’t actually any reception.
Just a door in to an office-type building.
The door was locked.
I had a choice of bell-pushes.
I pushed them all.
A couple of minutes later a chap in a Europcar uniform unlocked the door.
Me: I’m looking for Europcar reception?
Him: That’s me.
Me: I’ve spoken to your call centre. I’ve come down to pick up a van that I want to hire for 24 hours.
Him: Ah. We don’t have one.
Me: *face*
Him: I’ve got a couple, but they’re going straight out in the morning. When do you want to bring it back?
Me: Tomorrow lunchtime.
Him: I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing available.
Me: But I’ve spoken to your call centre about this.
Him: Yes, they don’t seem to understand how it works.
Me: Guess how many times I’m going to use Europcar in the future?
Him: I’m sorry.
I walked away thinking dark thoughts about call centres.
I’ve had similar.
With Europcar.
I started writing a big long paragraph here about call centres and not wanting to sound like a racist but…
I deleted it.
Because I sounded like a racist.
If two people can’t communicate effectively, it’s not racist. It’s a barrier to doing business.