Get On, Clip In, Fall Off

Life in a terminal world

There's a rather philosophical Wired article out about the forthcoming switchoff of the Asheron's Call 2 game servers. AC2 has been the first high-profile casualty of the tidal wave of migration from existing massively-multiplayer games to World of Warcraft - a game which I played continuously for a few weeks, but which rapidly lost its "ooh, shiny!" appeal. Rock the dwarf paladin continues to languish at level 43, in protest at being ordered yet again to go and kill a zillion identical monsters as busywork. (Being highly averse to the level grind, I have hopes for D&D Online, which seems to be more about content than about advancement.)

As the article says, there must be something very strange about wandering around a world which you know is going to wink out of existence in a couple of weeks.

Putting up signs ain't enough

I had a card a few days ago from... a well-known UK courier company, telling me that they'd tried to deliver a package but I was out. It also informed me that they would attempt delivery again sometime, although with no indication of when this might be. Additionally, they would hold onto the package before five days before returning it to sender. Okeydoke, I thought - I'll ring them and ask them to deliver the package on the next day I'm planning on being at home.

I rang the number on the back of the card. No answer - it just rang out. Okay, try the web. Took a bit of time to find the online tracking stuff, but sure enough it shows a delivery attempt. Unfortunately, no other way to ask for a redelivery or anything else.

A day or so later I check the web again and find that another delivery attempt's been made, on a day I was out. I phone again, and finally get through to someone after about 20 rings. No problem, they say - we'll hold onto the package for you if you'd prefer to collect it. Another day or two later I head over to their depot in the depths of Croydon (what is it about courier companies and Croydon?) and pick it up.

At this point it becomes extremely clear why I'd been having trouble getting hold of anyone to make any further arrangements. The place is busy. People are constantly in and out of the office, a couple of others are at desks wading through piles of paperwork, answering phones. Everyone is working hard. But the phones are still constantly ringing, simply because the way it looks to me is that if everybody always stopped to answer a ringing phone nobody would ever get to do anything else and the depot would grind to a halt. The office is overworked and understaffed, particularly given the fact that it's the height of the Christmas rush. To add insult to injury, the IT systems are suffering too. When the chap who deals with my package types the tracking number into his computer, by my mental stopwatch it takes over 10 seconds for the system to return the results. Add up all those 10 seconds over the course of the day, and you've got problems.

Fortunately, the management are clearly taking steps to address this problem. There are fresh signs all over the office, laser-printed and taped to the wall, declaring that "ALL CALLS MUST BE ANSWERED WITHIN 3 RINGS". How?, I find myself asking. By whom, exactly? Given the scene I've already described, it would be about as realistic for the management to put up signs declaring that all employees must grow an extra arm or paint the London Eye pink.

What do those signs accomplish? It would be a good thing to set a target of answering calls within three rings and forming a plan of action to find out what's needed to accomplish this (I ain't no business guru, but "more people" might be a start). It's not a good thing to put up signs making proclamations which are completely unachievable given your current circumstances. All they say to your workers is that "You're not working hard enough. Customers are complaining that they can't get through to us on the phone, and it's your fault".

Sometimes I wonder how all these vastly expensive business gurus who make huge amounts of money stating the obvious get away with it. When I see things like I saw earlier today, it all suddenly becomes clear.

So trendy it's uncool

I was going to write something here about how even with a multi-million dollar turnover and manufacturing being done in factories in the Far East rather than a small workshop in Melbourne, Crumpler (warning - hideous noisy Flash site) are still marketing themselves in an obscurely annoying way. However, I seem to have put most of my thoughts into this eBay auction instead. (Not that I'm trying to cynically drum up bids or anything, mind.)

(Later note - Okay, so eBay have pulled the auction, which was for my old Crumpler laptop bag. The reasons are obscure, but apparently it violated their policy as, shock horror, it included an external link to a newspaper article about Crumpler. Given that eBay UK is crawling with scams (Get your free Mac mini!) and vendors who just plain misrepresent themselves (listing says they're in the UK.. but oh, they're in Hong Kong!) or their goods, picking on lil' old me on such a technicality seems to be rather mean. Ah well.)