I'll Be Home For Christmas . . . Maybe

To the ironically named "Company Customer Service Department"
Stagecoach Bus Company
Chichester, West Sussex 

To Whom It May Concern:

I am engaging in the pointless exercise of writing to complain because the pointless exercise of calling your office to complain is getting old and I think the change will do me good.  

I ride the 107 between Horsham and Brighton.  It is the only way I have of getting to my office; I wish it were not so, but that's the hard truth.  Since construction began in the Preston Park area some time ago, you have been sporadically diverting your buses in an effort to avoid the chaos.  I think we can all agree on that fact.  However, the thorny business of you actually knowing where your buses are going to turn up seems to be beyond your ken.  Furthermore, your bus drivers' adherence to the diversion route can best be described as 'whimsical.'  

Since posting the notice that the diversion route would be in force, both ways, until further notice, I have been left stranded five times in as many weeks.  Each time, I had called your office and was told where to wait and each time your bus driver went a different way.  On one notable occasion, while waiting--at your instruction--on the diversion route, the driver decided to take the normal route despite the protests of people on the bus who knew I would be waiting someplace else.  I got home at 7:30 that evening.  

Last week, I was told, emphatically, that the diversion was over and done with and to wait on the London Road.  I did, for nearly two hours before giving up and catching a series of trains.  I got in that evening at 8:30.  

And today, once again I called your office, once again I was told where to wait and once again no buses turned up.  Which is why I am writing this on the train.  

Perhaps, as an American, I suffer from unrealistic expectations vis-à-vis customer service and should not be so stupefied by the appalling disregard you show toward the people who pay your salaries.   What I'm proposing isn't rocket science; all I want is for you to know where your buses are going.  This is the 21st century; we have two-way radios and lots of cunning electronic do-dads now, which allow people to talk to one another.  Take a look in any Dixons if you don't believe me.  

What I envision--and I know I'm simply embarking on a voyage of wishful thinking aboard the Titanic--is a day when you and your drivers actually communicate.  And if they are stuck in traffic (or get a wild hair up their arse and decide to take the scenic route through Rottingdean on their way to Horsham) that there might be some way of you knowing about it. 

And then, maybe even a number your customers might call that isn't perpetually busy, with someone, or something, on the other end of the phone to provide enough information to give them a fighting chance of catching one of your buses.  

But that remains a dream. I'm not naive; I know you're not sitting bolt upright in your cushioned chair right now, gripping this letter in front of you with both hands, thinking, "My God! We've got to change our company policy!"  No, they'll be no satisfaction from this letter, no compensation for the money spent on taxi's and trains when I've already bought a season bus pass.  This letter will end up in a file-perhaps with a note reminding the ticket sellers to refuse renewal of my Gold Pass-and I'll continue to call your office every afternoon so we can all pretend to believe you actually know which way your bus is going to go that day, while I play bus roulette and become even more familiar with Thameslink.  

I guess the only satisfaction I can hope to get is the writing of letters like this one, but not always, or only, to you.  Wishing you a Merry Christmas and all the best in the New Year, 

Michael Harling