This is the first of a series of letters kindly sent to DCR by Simon Cullen. Simon is clearly a kindred spirit. Unpleasant things keep happening to him and he knows that the best way to get over it is to write a virulent but cathartic rant.
This first skirmish is with Apple iTunes. Apparently, someone hacked into Simon’s iTunes account and stole £190 from him. In their wisdom, iTunes decided that the best way to help him was to ignore him completely….
This is a short summation of what this email is about so that the lovely people at Itunes can’t say I rambled on a bit and they didn’t read it:-
I, a “customer” of yours, have had my online account with you, where you hold ALL of my relevant financial details, hacked into, by a penis jockey of unknown origin, who bought himself 19 gift certificates, using my password as a name on January 19th 2011.
I have contacted what you call customer services (with no little irony) via email (because you have no PHONE NUMBER) and have received one reply, in which I was assured by “Katherine” on February 12th 2011, that I was “important” and would be dealt with asap.
That was one month ago.
Despite REPEATEDLY emailing “Katherine”, I have been avoided more readily than a leporous sex offender. I decided the only way forward was to re-start my iTunes grievance and bypass the wonderful Katie in the hope that I could get someone who could actually reach the keyboard and type a reply.
That was three days ago, iTunes.
Please respond to me.
My name is Simon Cullen, my account name is **************
I don’t hate you, not yet anyway. I’m moving rapidly in that direction though. I’ve had £190 stolen because I used your music program. Which, by the way, ISN’T EVEN ANY GOOD. It’s bloody awful in fact. I don’t want YOU to organise my music files. I want to do it. Why is your cockamany program trying to do it for me?? Why the crapping Christ do I want 3 copies of each song on each album lined up?
So, for instance, if I listen to AC/DC’s fine Powerage LP, I get Rock and Roll Damnation THREE times. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great song, but when you listen to anything three times in a row, it starts to feel a LITTLE bit like you’re going mental.
Now, I know, Kate, that you’re probably sitting there, at your iTunes desk, tutting and shaking you’re wisoned head, saying to yourself “huh, you idiot, there’s an OPTION to turn that off. You just press apple/alt/ctrl/shift and four.”
But, I’m not an idiot, no, I’m just lazy, and I don’t WANT to press any buttons, or fanny about with any drop down menu boxes. I just want to listen to “Cannibal Corpse”. Once, NOT three times. If you listen to Cannibal Corpse three times, Kat, the Zombie Apocalypse definitely begins.
So I have to go through all my songs, and delete two in every three songs. Then find that I deleted the working copy and NOT the one I want to listen to, so I have to purchase the LP again from Itunes…. oh no, sorry, I can’t, because you SUSPENDED MY FORNICATING ACCOUNT IN FEBRUARY!
I had money stolen from it. So I was rightly punished, banished from my own iTunes account and ignored. Ignored by YOU Katie. And now you won’t even talk to me.
I’m sick of you. I get better treatment than that from my wife. And you’re not my wife Katherine. You might think you are, with your cold, surly distance, but you’re not.
Stop stealing my money, and then ignoring me. You’re not all that smart you know. You’re software is an abortion of a program.
Do you think I WANT to use that hideous clunky piece of crap? No, I HAVE to, because I bought an Iphone.
I STILL don’t know how to plug it in and charge it up, without it deleting all my aps and Podcasts.
“There’s an option…..” no Katherine, NO option. Just don’t DO it unless I ask you o.k.?
Just CHARGE UP. I didn’t ASK you to delete 4 pages of things that make my commute 10% less goddamn miserable. You JUST DID IT.
And now I can’t buy them again because you’ve suspended my account!
So, here’s the deal Katie-pie, I’ve had enough of your petulant ignorance, we’re over. We’re through o.k.?
Once I am emancipated, I’m taking my things, and moving out. The new playstation phone is out in March, and it’s been seductively swelling its beautiful, rounded bosom in my direction recently.
I won’t lie, I want to hold it and touch it, and caress its shiny ass.
I’m sure it won’t require me to have a phd in cock-knockery just to put the things I want onto it, and I’m sure it won’t steal my money and then ignore me like a ginger-headed step-child.
I thank you for the good times, it’s been fun, but it’s also been a colossal pain in the crutch and your broken promises of “customer service” have been too much to take.
Your’s faithfully or whatever