DarrenByrne.com

A lot has been said of O2 and its customer service in recent times, and sadly I’ve become just another number who has borne the brunt of O2’s lack of respect for its customers and lack of interest in its customers problems.

My issue is slightly different to others. It does not relate to the iPhone, it does not have anything to do with dropped calls or billing issues, it’s not even regarding a phone at all.

A few months back, I purchased a new iMac Computer at the O2 Experience Store on the lower end of Grafton Street (opposite Marks & Spencers). The transaction was relatively painless and within 20 minutes of arriving back at the office, I had the beautiful Mac unpacked, up and running and on the network.

A couple of months later, we encounter a small problem. CD’s keep getting stuck in the drive. There’s a few things we tried (as advised by Apple after-care) such as restarting the computer, holding down certain keys in sequence, using the eject option from iTunes rather than the desktop. Some of these worked sometimes, but it was quickly clear that there was a problem.

I returned to the O2 Experience Store and explained my problem. They said they had encountered it before and if I just brought the Mac in to them, they would send it off for repair. All sounded simple enough. They said repair would take up to 10 days. I therefore waited another week before bringing the Mac in to them, so repair would coincide with the month’s holiday the person who uses the Mac was taking (i.e. the month of August).

Firstly, the repair did not take up to 10 days. It took 16 days. This is obviously not a major problem, but it the interest of a full story, I thought it best to include it. I collected it towards the end of my working day on Friday 29th August and brought it back to the office.

On Monday morning, bright and early, I returned to work and went to set the machine back up in time for the boss’s return (he is the Mac user). Lo and behold, the power cable was missing. Now, I know I gave them the power cable when I left it in for repair. I know this because a) I’m not stupid and b) I have an O2 docket confirming same. I immediately hopped on to the O2 website to try locate the telephone number of the O2 Experience Store. It was not available (at least, not obvious to me). I had a similar problem when consulting the phone book. So, being that I work in Dublin’s city centre I just walked over to Grafton Street (documentation in hand) to get my power cable.

The store was closed. Yes, they had decided to close for renovations. A sign on the door directed me to the other O2 Store on Grafton Street (I am aware this is not an Experience Store and doesn’t stock Macs, so I knew this was going to cause problems for me).

I went up to the Store (50 Grafton Street). It too was closed with a sign saying they were closed temporarily due to maintenance issues. From what I could see, they were unable to open the security shutters. Frustrated, I returned to the office.

Later on the Monday I returned to the O2 Store. There were five members of staff dealing with customers. Not one of them acknowledged me to say they ‘would be with me shortly’ etc. Instead, I approached one of the after 15 minutes, with the intention of asking when the best time to return would be. He cut me off mid-sentence and said he was busy with someone else. Duly chastised, I stepped back again and waited. After another 12 minutes (total of 27 minutes standing without even a nod from a staff member) a female staff member came over to me. I explained my problem in detail. It may be worth pointing out that she was foreign and struggled with what I was asking. She ran off upstairs to see if they had the power cable. It didn’t seem likely to me but she went to check anyway.

After 10 further minutes, she returned to say the cable wasn’t there and I should try the Experience Store when it reopened. She then walked off to serve another customer. I quickly called her back and made it clear this was unacceptable as we needed to computer for business. She said that they don’t sell power cables in that store and she could not help me. I pushed further, looking for someone to help me, but she said that it was “not her problem“. I felt this was completely unacceptable and asked for the manager. She went away upstairs again and returned to say there was one of the O2 Experience Store staff members dealing with any queries while the store was closed and she would ask him to ring me when he was in, which would be in an hour’s time. I accepted this, gave her my details and number and returned to the office.

I’m sure you won’t be hugely surprised to know that I did not receive the promised phone call. Nor did I get any call on Tuesday. I was unable to get over to the store on Tuesday due to work commitments. I did, however, return to the store on Wednesday.

On Wednesday morning I rang O2 Customer Care (an oxymoron). I was, it should be said, not left on hold for any lengthy period of time before reaching a human voice. I explained my situation and they tried to ring the O2 Experience Store, despite my telling them it was closed. They had no luck and recommended I go into an O2 Store. Unhelpful as this was, it did force me to look through the documentation for the repair and I noticed it had a letterhead for Mactivate in Blachardstown. These are the people who repair Apple products for O2. So, I tried ringing them and explained my issue once again. Their first response was that I should contact the O2 Experience Store as they would have shipped everything to them, including the power cable. Again, I reiterated that the store was closed. They put me back on hold and when they came back to me, they said that they would look into it further, but they were sure they had sent everything back to the store. They too suggested I contact another O2 Store.

So, back to 50 Grafton Street. Once again, I was left waiting for over 25 minutes before anyone addressed me. I did not make the mistake of approaching one of the staff for fear of further chastisement. I did, in my time in the store, witness two other customers being snapped at by the same man who did not wish to speak to me on Monday. One woman just wanted to ask where she could buy a charger. He literally told her to “go away – I’m busy“. I directed her to the Vodafone shop next door.

Eventually Dinko (according to his name badge) became free. I, once again, explained my problem and he went upstairs looking for my power cable, despite my telling him the girl had already checked on Monday. He returned and said it wasn’t there. I told him that I was aware of this and he said there was nothing more he could do for me and I would have to wait for the O2 Experience Store to reopen. I was not prepared to accept this. I asked to speak with the manager. He went upstairs again.

After 10 further minutes of waiting (I was approaching 45 minutes in the O2 store at this stage), Dinko returned with a guy in a very wrinkled shirt and no tie. He introduced himself to me as the manager, Shane, and told me they didn’t stock power cable for laptops(???). I was becoming very irate at this stage, as clearly Dinko had not properly relayed my problem to him. I tried again to explain my issue and he too uttered the dreadful phrase – “it’s not my problem”. My voice was definitely raised at this point and he repeated again that I would have to wait for the Experience Store to reopen and he couldn’t help me. He walked away from me and became extremely infuriated, saying that he must be able to point me in the right direction for getting my problem sorted, even if they could not do anything in-store.

At this point, a more senior looking individual (apologies for the stereotype but he was wearing a suit, tie and looked clean cut) approached me and asked me what the problem was. He introduced himself to me as the store manager, Garreth. This left me wondering why Shane had been lying to me about being the store manager and just angered me further.

Now, I tend to be very good at keeping my cool when having to explain myself a number of times, so I took a deep breath and started from the beginning. I gave Garreth all my information and told him of my issues with ‘his’ staff, O2 Customer Care and Mactivate. He once again said that he could do nothing for me and I would have to wait until the Experience Store reopened (sensing a theme?). He also said that everyone from the Experience Store was away on holidays, every single member of staff. This is despite the fact that the girl I spoke with on Monday told me that there was a member of staff from the Experience Store who was dealing with any issues arising from their close. I told him I could not accept this and I wanted to speak with the area manager, or whoever was over the Experience Store. He would not give me a number to call and began spouting the “you must ring Customer Care” line. Again, I told him that I had contacted both Customer Care and Mactivate but they both told me to go into the store.

He gave in and went off to ring Mactivate (I was in earshot and could hear that he did try to get to the bottom of it). Eventually, they said that someone would contact me later in the day or early on Thursday. Garreth gave me his number and a contact name in Mactivate (Gerry) and told me if Mactivate did not help me out, I should call him back and he would look into it further. Finally, it seemed someone was giving me some help with my problem.

No, I did not receive any phone call from Mactivate. So, I rang them myself on Thursday and tried to get to the root of the problem. At first they were adamant that the O2 Experience Store were at fault and I needed to deal with O2. When I rang back later, they said they would be willing to supply me with a power cable but I would have to arrange collection from Blanchardstown. At this stage I was so furious and irritated by the whole stupid debacle that I accepted this and said a courier would collect the cable on Friday morning.

So, I have a working Mac now, at expense to me and I await some form of response from O2. I am not holding my breath.

Previous O2 Problems: Alexia (again and again and again), Damien, John (again and again), Pat.

I‘m sitting here flicking through the channels, bored, and I happen on America’s Got Talent. I know I should be ashamed of myself, I know I should immediately turn it off, but I don’t. I sit and I watch.

Two acts caught my attention. One is an 80 year old dancer:

The second is at the other end of the scale entirely – so cute:

In recent times I’ve been delving into the past for my movie watching pleasures. Lottie and I have been working our way through the Alfred Hitchcock boxset, with some pleasant surprises. We’ve caught the wonderful RomCom When Harry Met Sally, we compared the new Sleuth with the old Lawrence Olivier version and saw good and bad in both.

Last year I watched Whatever Happened to Baby Jane for the first time and I loved it. Bette Davis showed what a true movie great could do, twisting the character she portrayed in real life into a deranged and sad fading starlet on screen. Since seeing it I have many times meant to return to her back catalogue and only recently I got hold of All About Eve, a tense tale about an up-and-coming ingénue who befriends Davis’s aging Broadway star and slowly climbs her way to the top.

The young woman who ingratiates herself into the celebrity lives of Margo Channing (Bette Davis) and her friends is Eve Harrington, played by Anne Baxter. Though both Baxter and Davis were nominated for the Best Actress Oscar in 1951 (which neither won), for me the film belongs to Davis. Through her, we watch Eve finagle her way into Margo’s life and home and ultimately her career as a Broadway star. While most of those around her are oblivious to the devious Eve until it is too late, Margo is seen as paranoid and crazy until she is finally driven truly mad by Eve.

Of course, the movie is All About Eve and Baxter is brilliant in the role. She slides so easily between overly sweet, goodie-two-shoes to duplicitous schemer without effort. A scene where she attempts to win over one of Margo’s friends in a bathroom towards the film’s end had me shouting at the screen in anger.

The film is a touch too long and, if made today, would be tightened up a bit. But, if made today, I wonder if it would lose some of it’s subtlety. There is something so wonderful about watching the oldstyle Hollywood send itself up in such a clever way. Margo, Eve and Lloyd Richards (played by Hugh Marlowe) make many flippant and derogatory references to the soul destroying Hollywood.

When writing and directing this movie, it’s clear that Joseph L. Mankiewicz (who, coincidentally, later went on to direct Sleuth) was telling more than a simple story – this was an age when celebrity was new and fanatics were only beginning to emerge. It is more an allegory of the state of 1950’s Celebrity Culture than a simple story about a young girl trying to make it big. It is perhaps the subtext that has made the story and the film a classic. While times, styles and Broadway’s buildings have changed, this Broadway story is still as relevant today as it was in 1950.

With some great supporting roles, including a small but perfectly suited role for a then relatively unknown and extremely young Marilyn Monroe, this movie deserves all the praise that has been lauded upon it over the years. Davis is a true star and I look forward to exploring more of her back catalogue.

I think the first Stephen Lynch song I heard was Baby. It begins beautifully – a sweet song about his newborn child, and his glee “as my lady gives birth today“. All is going well until he looks at his newborn and says, “Damn that’s an ugly baby; Damn that’s an ugly ass baby“.

And so goes the comic musical stylings of Lynch. Having seen so many of his grainy YouTube videos (again and again and again). I was delighted to be able to see him live in the Olympia, not once but twice. On Monday night, Darragh and Niamh brought us along to see the American comedian and we coaxed Andrew, Anthony and Little Miss to come too. On Tuesday ngiht we went with Mr Rick and an old friend of his.

The support act on both nights, Ruth-Anne Cunningham, was woeful. She was woeful mostly due tot he fact that she did not fit in there. Somebody high up in the Bulmers Comedy Festival organisational hierarchy thouhgt it would make perfect sense NOT to put a comedian on a Lynch’s support act, but instead a young pop singer. Argh! What were they thinking? Anyway, Andrew speaks more on this moronic decision here.

Once Stephen Lynch came on stage the ‘oldest Porno Theatre in Dublin’ erupted with cheers. On the first night I was one of the whoopers and screamers. However, being that I was in one of the boxes in the Olympia for the first time on Tuesday night (gloat, gloat, gloat), I was able to look across the audience and see the cries, the hollers, the adoration. It was particularly impressive to look out at the crowds and watch them sing along to every word of almost every one of his songs.

And, of course, this is one of the great things about the Internet – the global community. The only way the vast majority of the audience would have ever heard Stephen Lynch’s music would have been on YouTube or through not-so-legal downloads. He has only ever been in Ireland once before for a short time,and he has never appeared on TV over here. And yet, so many people knew every word of Little Tiny Moustache, a song about his Nazi ex-girlfriend.

I, of course, was one of the many singing my heart out. I delighted in hearing Lullaby, his sweet song explaining to his young daughter why Mommy is divorcing him.

He also brings a bit of an entourage with him in the form of his friends Rod Cone and David ‘Joberg’ Josefsberg. The chemistry between the guys on stage is electric. It seems so natural and spontaneous even though seeing the show twice proves otherwise. Joberg wrote one of the best songs of the night, which I was lucky enough to catch on camera. It’s called Dirty Sanchez:

Rick has more videos.

Darragh has some great pictures.

For further insight check out Andrew and Lottie‘s posts.

Watch this video. It is someone taking the path along El Camino Del Rey. In Andalusia, Southern Spain, this path has been climbed and hiked since 1901. It’s beautiful but not for the faint hearted.

A few times over the years friends have handed me their CD/their brother’s song/their friend’s album/their girlfriend’s music and most (not all) of the time the result is very poor. In one case all of my powers of diplomacy had to be called upon because it was that bad.

Recently however, I was given Chasing the Comfort, a CD from The Juice, a Dun Laoghaire/Bray three piece consist of Andrew Dixon, Niall Murphy and Stu Hennessy. After uploading it to my iPod (I’ve long since abandoned listening to CDs – probably because my CD player is broken), sceptically I pressed play on the first track, Fast, and the opening guitar riff had me hooked. As soon as the lead vocals from Dixon kick in I realise this is very different to any of the other albums I’ve been handed over the years.

The first thing that hits me is the professionalism of the sound. It’s polished. This band has its own sound and it’s damn good. With the second track comes a hint of Tracy Chapman, with a more up-to-date twist. Spanish Thighs doesn’t have the same pop-like grip of the opening track but instead it shows some great song writing skills. This continues through The Problem With Life and the anthemic Take Me Back.

At this point, the album takes another surprising turn. Pimped has a wonderful rhythm throughout that is reminiscent of some traditional Irish tunes. But, once again, this band has added their own edge to it. I can see crowds of people at their gigs singing along to the catchy chorus – “I could still see you, You were fixed on me“. From this song onwards, I began to imagine the band on stage – there is an energy to the second half of the album that makes you want to dance.

There is an influence from Nickleback on Don’t Force It, proving that they are not lying on their MySpace page when they claim their influenced by “ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING”.

If I was to find a negative it might be that the band don’t seem to know what style they want to settle on, but when you hear the desperation-filled love song, City Love, it really doesn’t matter. Variety is the spice and The Juice do not want to be pigeon-holed.

Check out their MySpace and Bebo pages and, if you like it as much as I did, go buy the album from Road Records.

In Spring 2007, some young blogger and his wife thought it would be a great idea to bring a bundle of joy of their own into the world. They would give up their social life; they would abandon manic holidays; they would put down the beer bottle and lift up the baby bottle; they would swap their social calendar for an ovulation calendar and they would definitely trade in the XBox for Nappy Rash.

To chart his trials and tribulations towards fatherhood, XBox4NappyRash began blogging his thoughts as he headed towards fatherhood. Sadly, things did not go quite as expected. His wife did not immediately fall pregnant. In fact, all this time later they’re still trying. They’ve been to fertility clinics, they’ve tried different positions to aid fertility, they’ve timed each sexual act with military precision and they’ve never given up, all the way along.

Today, he writes about being asked to guest post elsewhere. There is frustration in the post as he talks about the 18th Cycle (yep, they’ve been trying that long) and how each cycle feels like lather, rince, repeat, but the end of the post remains optimistic and very positive.

His blog is at times moving, at times clever, at times frustrating, but almost always very funny. His positive attitude has his readers willing him and his wife on (which, when you imagine what you’re willing him to do, is a little odd).

Mr XBox, Sir, we’re with you all the way. Best of luck – I have everything crossed uncrossed for you!

Pink for October is a campaign that raises awareness for Breast Cancer. Websites turn pink or have pink banners and badges for the month of October. Photobloggers do their bit by taking shots of pink things and posting them for the month.

Will Knott points out that this awareness is all well and good, but doesn’t help the charities such as the Irish Cancer Society in any financial way. So, what’s the solution? Will is a clever fellow:

Last time I was in Cork city I called in here…

…my local Irish Cancer Society shop. I’m not sure if the Castle Street shop in cork city is unusual, but they tend to have big window displays. So I chatted with the manager (nice lady) about making a window display using pink photos for October. In Cork, the Jazz festival will have its own display, but since she hadn’t planned anything from the start of the month until the festival, she is willing to display the photos.

However it might be worth going one better… donate the photos to the charity not just for display, but to be sold and raise money for the charity.

If you’d be interested in giving Will some help with this great idea, please drop over to his site and leave a comment on this post. Photobloggers, get snapping – it’s a wonderful and important cause and it could be a lot of fun.

Headwreckers, a comedy show from 5 Dublin comedians, why is it on Channel4? Anyway, I laughed at this:

Drinking non-alcoholic beer is like going down on your sister. It tastes the same, but it’s just not right.

Update: For anyone who missed the show, it is available for a few days on Channel4’s website. Click here to check it out. It’s best viewed in Internet Explorer, it seems. Or if you have an IE Plugin for Firefox, that’ll work too.

Recovering from a hangover, sitting in the trendy new Lighthouse Cinema, watching an off the wall coming of age movie, I feel as lost as the film’s main character. I knew I should have stopped about three or four Jamesons earlier last night.

However, I’m glad I made the effort to get out of bed and go see The Wackness. Like many coming of age films before it, it is more of a character study than a plot or action driven piece. We meet Luke Shapiro, just finished high school in New York’s pre-mobile-phone 1994 and about to have his final Summer before college. Some kids work in supermarkets to get some money together, Luke does not. He sells drugs.

Luke, played by Josh Peck, is an awkward, shy, apathetic youth who has no real friends and his only human contact seems to be when he is dealing drugs. His parents constantly fight and have serious money problems, leaving him essentially ignored by them. He, at 18, is still a virgin and feeling lost, alone and depressed. Luke, in exchange for drugs, gets psychiatric advice from Ben Kingsley‘s Dr. Jeffrey Squires, and develops a crush on Squires’ daughter, Stephanie, played by the best friend from Juno, Olivia Thirlby.

Thanks to Movies.ie, Anthony and I got to see this movie and it was well worth it for Kingsley alone. It is taken for granted that Ben Kingsley is a great actor, but this film highlights it better than the bigger Ghandi or Schindler’s List. His natural charisma, his simple honesty, his brutal wounds-open portrayal of a psychiatrist in a dead end marriage with no friends and no future, is incredibly moving, particularly towards the end of the film. While Luke is coming to terms with his own adolescent immaturity, so too is Dr. Squires. He seems to be reliving his empty youth through the character of Luke, wanting him to have fun, while also wanting the best for him and his life. The relationship between the teen and the aging doctor is worrying at times but always magnetic to watch. And of course, there’s the incredible, never-to-be-removed-from-my-retina moment where Kingsley and Mary-Kate Olsen make out in a phone booth. It’s ok – he only made it to second base!!!

Olsen is surprisingly effective as the silly but cute druggy, and this role may point to a decent acting career in her future. Other supporting roles from Jane Adams, Famke Janssen and Method Man are equally engaging. Peck, in the lead role, is good. Just good. He won’t be wowing the Oscars and he is unlikely to land the lead in the next Hollywood blockbuster, but his likable drug dealer straddles the line between touching naivety and street smart hardness. Yes, he learns the moral lesson; yes, he moves from childhood to manhood; yes, he finds friendship through adversity; but the clichéd coming-of-age schtick plays out in a surprising and funny way.

The era in which this film is set (mid nineties) is apparently pivotal to the film. A lot of emphasis is placed on the nineties slang, the clothes, the technology and most notably the music. But I am struggling to see why the era is important. It could just as easily be set today. There is a minor sub-plot where they discuss New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani‘s zero tolerance to crime initiatives, but that is never followed through to any climactic conclusion. The music is undoubtedly important. It is like another character in the movie, showing the differences between young and old, ‘street’ and establishment, but…well, I just don’t like rap music. It does nothing for me and musically, my favourite moment was hearing Bowie as the credits rolled.

As bad points go, this doesn’t drag down the movie much. The fine performances and the very funny plot make this a film an essential addition to my indie collection. There is a twang of Lost in Translation‘s isolation and a refreshing breath of Juno‘s comic air. It may not gain the cult following of those two movies, but it will be watched again and again for years to come.

Notes: Once again Movies.ie has taken me to a great movie free of charge. Check out the site for news, reviews and free previews and thank you to the whole team at Movies.ie.

Way back in school, surrounded by Yeats and Keats and Heaney and Shakespearean sonnets, when I discovered Phillip Larkin‘s poetry it was like a breath of fresh air. I realise how juvenile it was now looking back, but when I first read this, it spoke to me. I loved it.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin (1971)

All these years later, it’s still sound advice. 🙂

Lottie is heading out to meet some fembloggers this evening, which leaves me at a loose end. That’s fine – I have plenty of ways to amuse myself. 😕

But then I spotted an idle comment on Foley’s blog from an admirer of herself. Now, I can understand people taking a shine to her – she’s beautiful – but now I wonder if she’s really going to meet these mystery ladies, or is she meeting the mystery guy instead…

I sent her an email:

Who’s your admirer? http://rayfoleyshow.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-friday-evenings-are-made-for.html

Lottie replied:

My new loova! 🙂 I don’t know. but I feel all foxy now.

I retorted:

Loova?

You’re not meeting the ‘girls’ at all, are you? Grr!

(And you should always feel foxy – you’re always gorgeous)

She eased my mind:

Grr- and I thought it was a cunning plan.

I couldn’t have an affair. I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to blog about it. 🙂

A lot has been said, giving out about Irish Rail (here, here and here, and here, and here), but this morning I was privileged to receive some great service from one of the Irish Rail staff.

I forgot my wallet this morning (yes, I know I’m an idiot). I only realised as I reached the platform at Pearse Station. I got to the exit and I was honest with the ticket collector. He recognised me. I told him I have an annual ticket and I am there every morning. I told him I had forgotten my wallet. I told him I was very sorry and I asked him what I could do.

In his almighty benevolence he said that I looked trustworthy (well thank you Mr Man for letting me know). He asked if I was sure I wasn’t lying (I checked – I was sure). He took out his ticket book and said he would need to take my details, as “rules are rules” and I had no ticket. Before I had time to beg and plead, he said he had lost his pen. “Ah sure, go on this time, but don’t let me catch you again. And make sure you have money for your return journey”. Wasn’t he wonderful?

I know I’m in no position to give out, I had no ticket. But by his own admission this guy recognised me. Was there really a need for a power trip? And his “don’t let me catch you again”? He didn’t catch me – I came forward and admitted it. I have, many mornings, accidentally presented my bank card instead of train ticket and no one noticed or even looked at it. I could have handed him a wet trout and he’d have been none the wiser.

Why does everyone in Irish Rail have such massive attitude problems?

The Terminator DVD Player

It’s so cool. Please someone buy me this.

via /film

Anthony posted up his answers to a bunch of questions in the form of a mosaic of flickr images. The result was kinda cool:

Here be the questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to do when you grow up?
10. Who/ what do you love most in life?
11. Choose one word that describes you?
12. What is your Flickr name?

The idea:

• Type your answer to the questions into a flickr search
• Using only the first page, pick an image
• Copy and paste each of the urls in the Mosaic Maker

So, I decided to do mine and here’s the result.

Anto’s and my final pics are actually the same, oddly. 🙂

Go on, give it a go.