I'll doctor your fucking rugs

An open letter to the staff at Rug Doctor:

Dear Rug Doctors,

Having just returned, boiling with rage, from a failed attempt to hire one of your carpet cleaners from the local DIY centre, I’m writing to tell you that you’re idiots.

I appreciate that one would require proof of identity and reliability before letting someone hire one of your machines. But there’s no circumstances in which demanding that someone present a utility bill will help you any more than a credit card and driving licence. You might think there is, but that’s because you’re idiots. The staff at the DIY store, who clearly think you’re idiots as well, explained with a pained look in their eyes that the utility bill was a requirement you placed on them because, even if my address is on my driver’s licence, I “might have moved recently.”

Now, while that’s technically true, I want you to consider the sheer idiocy of your plan to require me to present a utility bill—which, unsurprisingly, I didn’t leave the house with this morning—in order to make your transaction with me more secure. The danger which you hope to allay by this pointless bit of consumer hoop-jumping breaks down roughly as follows:

  1. I’ve moved house and I’m trying to present a previous address, but: I’d have to have done so at least (say) six months ago, as otherwise quarterly utility bills from the old property could easily be passed off as “recent” and the utility bill wouldn’t help
  2. HSBC and Visa, both with good reasons for having invested historically in debt collection and finding people…the trust of these two multinational companies can’t guarantee my reliability
  3. The DVLA, a national governmental body, with whom it is a criminal offence punishable by fines not to keep up-to-date address details, somehow can’t prove my address or reliability
  4. Yet somehow the chattering gibbons at Southern Electric—who are also, like you, idiots—can somehow provide more trusted proof of my address: people who have been unable in the past to spell my name correctly

You also seem to envisage a situation in which nobody has access to a colour printer. Somehow, you can’t trust a chip-and-pin credit card, you can’t trust a watermarked driving licence, but you can trust a bit of headed notepaper that anyone could whip up given a standard home or office inkjet. You should dwell on that for a second, as it’s probably the absolute, rock-solid, conclusive proof that you’re idiots.

A wasted round trip of ten or twenty miles is not trivial when you aren’t travelling by car. By being idiots you’ve thrown a spanner into the works of my entire day, and effectively caused me to waste my Saturday, one of the few times of the week when I actually get to relax. Unfortunately, although you’re demonstrably idiots, you hold a local monopoly on carpet cleaners as far as I can tell. That means I’ll have to make my way back—pointless, futile, idiotic utility bill in hand—to the DIY store and hire out your device after all. I don’t know what’s worse: being an idiot, as you are; or being in hock to idiots, as I unfortunately am.

Before you take this article in a spirit in which it isn’t intended, I don’t wish for a justification of your policy in reply. There’s nothing more tedious than having to read idiots explaining in laborious detail their more complicated and wrongheaded conclusions. Rather, I am explaining something to you: that you’re idiots. The only return correspondence I would appreciate from you is either an apology and a reconsideration of your idiotic policies, or a request that I redraft what you’ve just read, using words short enough for an idiot to understand.

Yours etc.

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This entry was posted in buildings, cars, commerce, consumers, decor, dickheads, industry, insurance, location, near, opinion, people, public, rants, responsibility, society, transport. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I'll doctor your fucking rugs

  1. looby says:

    Fab! Let us know if they answer!

  2. sbalb says:

    It’s open in the sense that it’s published here, but I’ve yet to actually send it to a contact there. I’ll sleep on it: mostly I just feel happier having written it.

    Carpets quite clean now, I’ll grant you.

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