Ah But

This is a piece about my Uncle Willy and Auntie Gladys. Willy passed away five years ago, however Gladys still lives in the same council house- that’s “social housing” to you and me now- that they lived in for forty five years just outside Blackpool. Before I get into what I might call “The Ah Buttery” of the article, permit me to share with you a poem. Willy was passionate about music. He had worked in the industry for over fifty years in Manchester and Glasgow before they came to Blackpool and he had the biggest record collection you could ever imagine – that’s “vinyl” to you and me now. They loved dancing and went to the Tower Ballroom every Wednesday afternoon for years, long before “Strictly Come Dancing “thought it had made Blackpool its own. They took their sandwiches, listened to the organ, watched couples dance and then took to the floor themselves. The poem is about some of those sensations and others to boot.

Blackpool Tower Ballroom, 1950s

The Pleasure Of The Next Dance

They always draw the curtains round your bed
to tell you when something is wrong.
In that understated manner doctors have, she said,
“I wanted to tell you both at the same time.
You know that we have completed a virtual colonoscopy.”
All very nice but all I want is plain and simple English.
“You have advanced cancer of the bowel.”

We won’t let Grief come up the garden path.

We will do what we have always done
in sixty years of marriage. We will dance.
Fads came and went but we always stayed in step.
We never skimped on dancing shoes.
We sambaed on sandy ballroom beaches.
We waltzed in the Viennese woods.
We smooched when no one was looking.

When Pain calls now - me and Morphine always have a drink together.

Remember that first grand dance I took you to?
I leaned across the table and looked into your eyes.
We always saw the youngster in each other’s eyes.
You were shimmering in a gold and silken gown.
I was in a tuxedo and led you onto the floor.
I slipped my arm around your slender waist.
Long, lingering and lovingly we danced and danced and danced.

The next dance will always be our first dance.

And we will be deaf when Death comes to knock at our door.

Before he died Willy asked me to look after Gladys. I said I would and I have tried to do it to the best of my ability. Five years ago as I said. It started with looking after the garden. A front garden, thirty feet long and fifteen wide. We planted daffodils in one long border to come up in Spring and marigolds in another to bloom in Summer. Marigolds were Willy’s favourite flower. Given that the back garden was the size of a cricket square, looking after it all took one working for at least one day a week, mowing the grass, trimming hedges and cutting back.

Willy played the role of a traditional, breadwinner husband. What else would he know? He organised everything, did the banking, paid the bills and dealt with whatever need dealing with. Gladys left it all to him while she kept house. What else did she know?

Since then Gladys has been alone in this “Ah But” world. Let me try and explain. For an eighty nine year old woman, who I might add, has all her marbles and can still get about, life has become very complicated at every turn and twist in the road. She rings somewhere to try and resolve something and they say “Ah but you can’t do that”.

“Ah But” is found predominantly in the administrative and bureaucratic set ups we all have to deal with. You phone and think that you have got through but then in a whirlwind of almost never ending verbal you know what, it starts. A machine tells you that they are dealing with a high volume of calls and that your call is being recorded for training purposes and your own safety cos if you abuse us we know who you are. We value your custom and your patience and by the way it would be quicker if you went to our website and downloaded the app. This would be much quicker for you and we aim to get back to you within seven working days and by the way. Have a nice day. When you have got through that lot - press one if you want…. two if you want…. I am going to put you on hold and you can listen to silly music for ten minutes and you are number sixteen in the queue, more music. Number fifteen in the queue and so on and in case you have forgotten thank you for your patience and we value your custom and remember our app.

Then after that momentous whirlwind of nonsense, you get through to a voice, a human voice and then it really starts in earnest. You state your problem and how you want to solve it and in response you get “Ah but you can’t do that.” No explanation as to why. You stutter out your problem again. They say to you again as if you are stupid,” Ah but you can’t do that.” Eventually after several phone calls, going through the whole preamble before you get to a human again, you state your problem, ask to speak to a line manager and perhaps make some progress. You politely ask for their name and make notes of time and date and feel as if you have moved forward, if albeit only a little. Recognise what I have am describing? We have all been there. Somehow you learn how to circumnavigate and eventually get what you want.

Now imagine you are an eighty nine year old lady, whose husband has done everything for her for their sixty plus years of marriage but has been gone five years, she has no computer, doesn’t know what a website is or an app or how to download anyway and everything is on line. Whatever that might mean. She feels that the world she has lived in for all this time is now unrecognisable, somewhat unfathomable and rather threatening. Perhaps she feels that she is on Mars. The “Ah But” world.

Let me give you just a couple of examples of the many she has encountered over these five years. Willy had not only loved music he was also a film buff and had a Sky subscription. She had carried on paying a direct debit of £37 a month for five years without realising it. Oh and I’ve forgotten to mention online banking. How could I do that because I take it for granted? So perhaps do we all. Actually there are probably hundreds if not thousands who don’t “do “online” banking- especially if you haven’t got a computer or a mobile phone. Oh yes and that’s something else I forgot. She hasn’t got a mobile. Think of all the things where you have to give a mobile number or the process won’t let you proceed. She doesn’t do online banking. There is no bank now in the small town in which she lives, so she travels into Blackpool on the bus to go to “her “bank to get out some real money. She refuses to use ATM’s since she doesn’t know how they work.

So eventually my caring has gone beyond the garden and into the house so to speak. I have persuaded her to discuss with me any things that come up that she doesn’t understand and now she lets me deal with these issues as well as taking her across the road to the nearest ATM because she still wants cash to pay the papers, the milk man and the shopping.

She didn’t get the Winter Fuel Allowance because she has savings that took her above the threshold. I tried to claim Pension Credit – online (!) - for her in order that she might get the Fuel Allowance next year. Supposedly there are three hundred thousand pensioners who are entitled to the Allowance but didn’t claim for it. If they go online they will find there are – and I kid you not- two hundred and forty three questions to answer. So maybe you can understand why there are three hundred thousand who don’t claim it.

So I stopped the £37 a month direct debit to Sky. Within days she received what was tantamount to a threatening letter. Why have your payments stopped? You have a contract. Start paying it again or else. So I rang them and went through the whole shebang I have described, I think, so accurately above.

When I eventually get through I try and explain that she has paid all this money over the years. The total is a staggering £2220. Gladys has worked out they owe her money and will she get it back. First of all they ask Gladys if I can speak on her behalf. I give Gladys the mobile and she agrees. I say “She doesn’t have Sky and therefore doesn’t use it”. “What about The Skybox?” came the reply.” There is no Sky Box” I say. Gladys has, in fact, disposed of it because she didn’t know what it was. The lady on the other end of the phone is confused because she admits she has never come across a case like this before nevertheless Ah But- She can’t just stop the direct debit. “Well I have I say.”

After referral to a line manager, the lady suggests I write a letter to Sky- she gives me an address- to explain the problem. So this I do in great detail, step by step, prefacing the letter with the details of Gladys’ circumstances. Eventually I get a letter back- from the Sky Customer Care Department (Wow!)- saying that they understand the problem and will terminate the account. There is no mention of a refund. The last line of the letter says that although the account is terminated and closed, Gladys will receive a further letter asking her to reinstate the payments. The letter says to ignore this. It will be generated by the computer. I hadn’t heard that one that for a long time “It’s the computer’s fault”

I forget to tell Gladys about the letter that needs to be ignored so that when I turn up at her house the next time, she has received the letter and doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Neither do I. However Sky was sorted- no refund- but (Ah But) Sky was sorted.

That was a few months ago and now let me tell you about the current issue we are dealing with. When I go to her house, before I start work in the garden we have a cup of tea together and catch up on our news. Now she always leaves letters official letters she has received next to where I sit and I say “What’s this Auntie Gladys?” “I’m not sure “as if to say that’s why I have left it for you. It’s a letter from her Gas Provider printed in big red letters, that’s always a sign something needs attention, isn’t it. It tells her that despite various attempts to read her Gas Meter, they have not had a response and this is now quite critical. When they obtain a reading they will be able to ascertain whether she is in credit or debit.

So I take a reading. Then ring the provider and, of course, have to go through the “long momentous whirlwind of nonsense” I described above. You can reread it now in case you have forgotten what happens or you can cut and paste it in here. After thirty minutes I get to speak to a human. Gladys gives me permission to speak to them. I then explain the situation and proffer the reading. “Ah but that can’t be correct. It’s much much lower than we estimate. You have read it wrongly.” Well actually I haven’t.

I explain Gladys’s situation and that she has no one to do this kind of thing for her. Furthermore she does not use her cooker very much, doesn’t know how to use the central heating, despite my attempts to show her how and her gas fire has been capped off several years ago as the Social Housing Agency was decommissioning gas fires in their properties. The device she uses to keep herself warm is a small electric blow heater. The Gas Office doesn’t understand this and persists in ah butting that I’ve got it wrong. They want me to do a reading again and send it in. However I am going to insist that they send someone to read the meter then there can be no doubt.

What is of great interest is that she has paid a direct debit of £50 each month over the last five years. So now we are talking about £3000, some of which could well be returned to her as a hefty refund. I told her. I said “Auntie Gladys, remember in the old days you put a shilling in the meter when the gas ran out? Eventually the man came opened the box where the money had gone in and worked out if you owed any more money or if you had paid too much he give you some shillings back?” She understood that. I said “Let’s see if you get any shillings back in your bank from this lot.” Let’s hope so. Ah but- then again. It’s a work in progress. It’s all a work in progress until the next time and without doubt there will be a next time for sure.

The “Ah But World” To us- it’s argumentative, we like to take them on and know how to do it. To the Gladys’ of this world- it is threatening and there will hundreds, if not thousands, in Gladys’ position. It’s hard to dance alone. It’s about language isn’t it? It’s all about language. All about communication- it always is. Wouldn’t it be good if we could retrain all the corporations and the “Ah Butters” in them, to use the phrase “What if?” offering positive ways out of challenges- not problems? So when they say “How can I help you? they really mean it and try their best to do it. Ah But. What if.

Bill Allison