Spitting blood*

I have been dealing with an iniquitous

mail order company,

(the sort that sends out shoddy little catalogues

aimed at the over 60s),

on behalf of a 90 year old friend

who unfortunately relies on these companies 

for the sort of shopping she can no longer do in person.

I had processed the order online but they had invoiced her 

in the parcel with completely different prices.

They have numerous special offers

which fluctuate and expire daily.

Some of these appear in the catalogue,

but not online, and vice versa.

Catalogues hoarded by the elderly

quickly become out of date.

All of this is designed to befuddle even if you are

reasonably compos mentis.

They had caused great anxiety by telling my friend

 that an amount was still outstanding.

I knew this was impossible.

Emails were ignored so I had to ring them.

Their 'customer service' line

with its premium rate phone number

would have cost me over a £1 just to listen to the message

that they were busy helping other customers,

had I not known I could find an alternative number on the

Say No to 0870 website.

Even once connected, the girl kept disappearing

supposedly to check things, and the line would go dead.
Eventually she conceded that there had been 'a mistake'.

A mistake that had to be rectified at my expense.

Of course I soon found pages of complaints against

these people online, but my friend does not want

to believe that she has been duped.

She values her autonomy so I have to be careful

not to be seeming to undermine her judgement and choices.

I would like her to bin these brochures in future

but I doubt she will.

Happily Tall Cat is in residence today,

as my blood pressure has soared

and he is the remedy.

* A graphic but useful expression that has been in the news recently.