Dear Vodafone,
In the beginning, our relationship was fun. You helped me buy my first iPhone, and all you asked in return was for 24 months of love and attention on my part. To start with, all I noticed was the iPhone, but as that just became another limb, I started to realise that you weren’t really all that attentive. So, those 24 months are almost up, and it’s time to look to the future. I’m afraid Vodafone, that future doesn’t include you. There’s no way to tell you gently – in fact, I’m not entirely convinced I even want to tell you gently. A few hard truths might help you out and encourage you not to continue with your abusive relationships.
For almost 2 years now you’ve been very dedicated at taking my money on the 11th of every month. But you haven’t really given me much love, have you? You won’t even talk to me on the phone – you do your best to make that psychopathic automated phone system, Lara, talk to me. Let me tell you a little secret: Lara’s a bitch. Lara does her best to divert you from actually talking to a real person, and actually gets quite sarcastic about it. She lectures, she opines, she whines, and then eventually if she feels you’re not cooperating, she hangs up on you.
You should sack the Lara system. She’s not cute. As the old saying goes: you shouldn’t anthropomorphise computers – they don’t like it! I can’t imagine any computer running the Lara programme would be happy. Have any of your clusters committed suicide, Vodafone? If so, I bet they were running Lara. Lara is like a bitchy, bogan version of Marvin from Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.
Here’s another thought too, Vodafone. In order to run a cellular phone network, you need cells. You know, those tower-like things that other phone companies have. If you’re not sure what these things do, they allow people to make phone calls. (People would be able to tell you this if you switched Lara off for a while.)
When I decided to hook up with you, Vodafone, it was because my previous phone lover, Telstra, hadn’t made up its mind about whether it would sell iPhones or not. So it left me with very little choice. Telstra may have had their heads up their proverbials over the iPhone, but at least they had cells. What that meant was that at home – the place I live and work – I got cellular network reception. I could make phone calls. I could receive phone calls. My phone would stay connected to the network, on full 3G service, all day, and all night. I took that for granted. Now I’d consider that a complete novelty!
You promised the world to me Vodafone, but you were a dirty cheating liar. You gave that cell coverage to other people, didn’t you? You promised it to me, but you gave it away like a cheap hooker, didn’t you? For two years I’ve been lucky to have 2 bars of 3G service at home.
Oh, and you do all those sneaky, dirty tricks, don’t you? Like say, continually cycling in and out of service, draining my battery faster than an Android phone playing Flash. Or when you just stop sending calls to my phone. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve been calling myself every day for the last 6 months just to check to see if I have service, because your network doesn’t stay talking to my phone every day. Your cheating has turned me into a paranoid phone user, and I don’t like that.
Oh, and what the hell is it with you and SMSs? Three out of four messages will come in several hours after someone has sent them. I can’t send four messages before your network stops talking to my phone and I have to reboot it. And guess what? Every other person I know who uses an iPhone on the Vodafone network has the same problem, and everyone I know with an iPhone on Optus, Telstra or even 3 for freaks sake doesn’t.
So here we go Vodafone, it’s time for you to pack your bags and get the hell out of my life. I’ve got a new iPhone coming soon, and when that arrives, I’m giving your sorry network and that damn Lara the flick. I’d rather set fire to my testicles than chat to Lara again, but I must say, I’m starting to really look forward to ringing her for one last chat in a month or so to cancel my service with you.
Yours (un)faithfully,
Preston.
