My mum and the Filipino... (From Gazette & Herald)

My mum and the Filipino...

International relations between the UK and the Philippines are stronger than ever - and it's all down to HANNAH GIBBONS' mother...

"SO where are you right now? And what time is it over there? And what's the temperature like?"

My mother had been giggling on the phone for a good hour and a half with a man she'd never met before, who barely spoke a word of English. Occasionally, she'd instruct me to "enable the wireless" or "check the status of the anti-virus" (which she pronounced in the American way stat-us, ant-i), but in general it seemed to be a conversation based around comparing the remarkable difference in weather between here and the Philippines, and laughing about it a lot. Good Lord, woman, where's your dignity?

This was Yan, she told me in pauses in the conversation - good old Yan from the Philippines who had been sent from above, or from Microsoft, via the phone line, to instruct us on the best way to install our wireless internet thingy. And actually, she told me after she'd hung up the phone, her evening with Yan had been most unsatisfactory. The internet still didn't work, and, as the call came from foreign lands, "they asked me what county York was in! You don't need that, do you?"

Maybe she slightly overestimates the intelligence of British call centre workers, and maybe she doth protest too much with her criticisms of best-mate Yan, but I do see her point. While we've been plagued all our lives with irritating junky phone calls just as Coronation Street is starting, it's only recently that they've started coming with fury from the other side of the world - and with all the communication problems they entail, you're likely to be back at the adverts by the time you get rid of them.

So, I thought I'd take some decisive action. Want to speak to Mrs Gibbons, eh, Mr whoever-from-a-far-flung-place? "Oh, I am sorry, this is difficult for me to say. She... dropped down dead at the weekend you inconsiderate -" And since then we've only had a handful of calls for the deceased, so I would fully recommend this tactic.

But don't assume English call centre workers are any less irritating. I have a friend who works for extortionate amounts of money in a call centre asking people about nappies for four hours an evening (not the same person for four hours, usually, although she has mentioned a few more eager participants who must just like the company). Occasionally, I'm the lucky trial recipient of her probing questions - "Can you describe the odour? Was there any leakage?" For unknown reasons, people don't tend to put the phone down on her. Quite the contrary, in fact - it seems people actively enjoy telling her about such unmentionables, and she tells me she's had no feigned family deaths either.

So perhaps other people don't have quite the grievances I do with the chatty strangers on the end of the phone. Good job, really, because the internet is still down, so maybe mum and Yan can rekindle their technology passion once more. As long as Corrie's not on.

Updated: 09:17 Wednesday, January 25, 2006