My Own Virgin Atlantic Story

Yesterday I posted a hilarious complaint letter addressed to Sir Richard Branson regarding the food and in-flight entertainment on Virgin Atlantic flights. This reminded me of my own experience with Virgin Atlantic.

In August 2008 I got married, and of course we went on honeymoon. We'd settled on going to Zanzibar, but package holidays were just too expensive, so we booked our flights and hotel without the 'aid' of a travel agent.

Our flights were with Virgin Atlantic. Apart from the atrocious picture quality of the in-flight entertainment screens, on the way out everything went fine - even the food was fine (apart from some horrible cheese wrap which tasted like dirty socks). We flew from Heathrow to Nairobi, and from there took a smaller plane to Zanzibar. On the return journey, however, it all went a bit pear-shaped.

We took the Zanzibar-Nairobi flight back. When we landed, those of us taking the connecting Virgin Atlantic flight back to Heathrow headed to the transfers desk we'd used on the way out. We queued there for one hour, getting increasingly anxious about how long it was taking. We had been hoping to do some duty-free shopping, but there really wasn't much chance for that now.

We were next in line when a Virgin employee came over and asked if any of us were flying to Heathrow, as check-in was about to close. What? I knew we'd been waiting for a while, but there was still an hour and a half until the flight was scheduled to leave.

We dutifully chased after him as he raced over to a counter half-way around the airport. Apparently we'd all been standing at the wrong counter. We'd been misinformed.

The employee had at least had the decency to do a preemptive check-in for us all, so that the flight wouldn't leave without us. He tried the computer. Nope, can't do - they'd closed the flight. We now headed over to the boarding gate to be checked-in manually. After another half hour or so, we got our boarding tickets, went through the security screening, went through another security screening, and boarded the plane.

The return flight was fairly non-eventful, but this time we did get to sample some excruciatingly bad food. It came as a bit of a shock after the amazing food we'd been enjoying at the Langi-Langi Resort in Zanzibar.

Back in the UK, hungry and tired, we waited for our luggage at the carousel. As it turned out we didn't have to wait long. My bag came out first. The lock was still on it, but the zipper had been ripped open. Damn it! I headed straight over to the Virgin Atlantic office, while my wife waited for her bag.

I explained to the disinterested attendants that my bag had been broken and showed them the damage. They asked me to check whether anything was missing. There was. I was missing the only two souvenirs we'd managed to purchase (two small sandstone "snake-boxes"), among other things. My wife now came over. Her bag had been opened, but not ripped (she didn't have a lock, but we could tell they'd opened it from the belts having been done up at a different hole). She was missing stuff too. The bag of toiletries and perfume she'd purchased for the wedding, worth well over £100, was gone.

The attendant started writing up the report.

"Do you have travel insurance?", he inquired.

"Yes I do."

"Will you be making a claim on the travel insurance?"

"No, I won't, I'll be making it with Virgin."

After all, why should I pay an excess to make a claim through my travel insurance, when this is something that should be covered by the airline responsible?

When it came to the damage on the bag, the attendant took a look at it and then, unbelievably, undid the zip and did it back up. It held. Just.

"The damage isn't covered because it's not permanent."

"What do you mean it's not permanent?!?"

"Look, I fixed it."

"No you haven't! You've done up the zip, which is still frayed at the bottom! I can no longer secure it with a lock because it can be opened at any point, and the treatment the baggage handling crew will undoubtedly give it means it will split open at some point in transit. I no longer have guarantees that the contents of my bag won't spill out!"

"My assessment is that it's ok, so it's not covered!"

"My assessment is that it's not!"

My wife, wanting to avoid a pointless confrontation, asked me to just let it be. I did. The attendant finished the report and handed a paper to me.

"They'll contact you within a week. If they haven't contacted you in 10 days phone this number."

The other passengers that had taken the Zanzibar-Nairobi-Heathrow flights were also getting reports filled out - exactly the same thing had happened to them. One of them told me:

"They'll try to get out of paying. Don't let them - keep insisting."

We left.

10 days later, I still hadn't received any contact from Virgin Airlines, so I phoned them up.

"Hello, I'm calling regarding damage report LHRXXXXXXX. It's been 10 days and I still haven't been contacted. I was wondering what is going on with it?"

"Yes sir, let me see... It's closed."

"What do you mean it's closed?"

"It's closed sir, it says here you would claim through travel insurance."

"What? That's the opposite of what I said! Can you please correct that and re-open it? That's wrong."

"I'm sorry sir, we can't do that from here."

"What?!?! OK, how can I get this re-opened?"

"You can either write or e-mail customer relations."

I decided on the e-mail address - it would, I hoped, be quicker than writing a letter.

Here's the e-mail I wrote:

Hello,

I am writing regarding damage report LHXXXXXXX. I made this report at Heathrow Airport on the 26th of August 2008, when I retrieved my baggage after my ZNZ-NBO-LHR flight. I found my bag damaged - the zip broken and torn at the seams, meaning it can no longer be secured properly - and contents missing from my bag. I informed the people at the desk of this, and reported that two soapstone boxes from Zanzibar (value $6) and a bag with toiletries and makeup (value over £100) were missing. They made the above referenced report, and asked me whether I had travel insurance. I replied that I did. They then asked me whether I was going to claim on my travel insurance. I replied that I would NOT, since this was something that the airline should be covering. Today I phoned up to enquire about the status of this report. I was told that the report stated I was going to claim on travel insurance.

I am not particularly impressed with this. I don't see why I bother answering questions at the airport if they're going to write down something else in the report. I would like Virgin Atlantic to reprocess this damage report with the correct information, and further information on reimbursement. Thank you.

Regards,

Patrick

To my horror, I received the following automated reply:

Thank you for writing to us.

If your comments are about a flight you've taken, one of our customer relations people will be in touch in the next 21 days.

We'll forward any other comments/suggestions on to the relevant people.

Please don't reply to this email. If you need more information, our website tells you everything you need to know about the customer relations and baggage claims service. The address is http://www.virgin-atlantic.com/en/gb/customerrelations/index.jsp.

Kind regards

Customer Relations
Virgin Atlantic

21 days? Christ, this will take forever.

18 days later I finally got a reply:

Dear Patrick

Thanks for your e-mail. I'm sorry that your baggage was mishandled following your flight with us.

We take our baggage handling seriously and do everything we can to make sure your belongings arrive in the same condition you gave them to us in. Unfortunately accidents do sometimes happen, though I'm glad to say it's very rare.

Like all international airlines, we work under the Montreal Convention (1999). In line with this, you need to report your lost or damaged baggage to us in writing within seven days of your flight.

As this requirement hasn't been met I'm afraid we're unable to assist you with your claim on this occasion. I'd suggest that you contact your travel insurers in order to recoup your costs from them directly.

Once again, I'm really sorry for what happened and I hope it won't put you off flying with us the next time you travel.

Yours sincerely

Jane Doe
Baggage Claims Department

I couldn't believe it. I immediately responded:

I'm sorry, but that's simply unacceptable. I DID claim within seven days - in fact I claimed the very minute I saw the bag was damaged. However, your employees chose not to process my claim as I directed. I therefore request that you process my claim as I asked.

Since I couldn't reply to the sender, I had to send it to the same generic address again, so I got another automated reply. The terms had apparently changed in the last 3 weeks:

If your e-mail is about mishandled luggage, from a recent flight you’ve taken with us, you’ll be contacted by our Baggage Claims Team. This may take up to 28 days.

So it's 28 days now instead of 21? 19 days later I got a letter:

Dear Patrick

Thank you for your most recent correspondence, from which I'm sorry to learn of your disappointment following my colleague's response.

I have to re-iterate that claims of this nature do have to be made to the airline in writing within 7 days. This is a rule set out by our governing body the Montreal convention. I can only apologise if you were not advised of this previously.

Please be assured that I can fully appreciate your comments regarding reporting it to our staff at the airport. However, the Property Irregularity Report is issued as proof that damage occurred on the flight, or in the case of loss, serves to help locate the baggage and return it to the owner. It does not constitute as written notification to the airline.

Thank you for giving me this opportunity to explain and apologise. I do hope you have not been discouraged from travelling with us again, and that future flights are enjoyable and trouble free in every aspect.

Yours sincerely

Janet Doe
Virgin Baggage Claims

Obviously, this was not a satisfactory resolution. I tried again:

Firstly, let me assure you that qualifying my reaction as a "disappointment" is a huge understatement.

I fail to see how I could claim in writing within 7 days without, in the first place, receiving proper information from the airline. I contacted the only point of contact for Virgin Atlantic at baggage reclaim of Heathrow immediately. They not only misinformed me, but also fellow passengers on the same flight who had suffered the same problems. From this I can only assume that this must be your standard practice - tell them nothing, misprocess their claim, and presto, no need to reimburse your paying customers.

Additionally, I was told Virgin Atlantic would contact me. It was only after 10 days of no contact that I was forced to contact you. At this second point of contact I was once again told at no point that I had to make the claim within 7 days. I was only told I should contact in writing, via e-mail or by writing to a given address, because my claim had been misprocessed. I decided e-mail would obviously be the faster alternative. But of course, the automated reply when I did e-mail (the same day) states that:

If your e-mail is about mishandled luggage, from a recent flight you’ve taken with us, you’ll be contacted by our Baggage Claims Team. This may take up to 28 days.

So, contact via e-mail can take up to 28 days - that's 21 more days than I have to make a claim!

It was only when I got a response to this e-mail, 18 days later, and a full 27 days after my flight, that I was told claims had to be made within 7 days.

If the claim was not made accordingly, it is obviously through no fault of my own, but that of your employees. Given the information I was given, I cannot see how anyone would have acted in a different way to how I did. I should not have to mount an investigation in order to find out how to process a claim - your employees should provide that information clearly. This, I think, is especially true in the case of your mishandled baggage offices at the airport.

Quoting your governing body and the Montreal convention does not discourage me in any way from requesting, once again, that you process my claim as I originally directed. This is a matter of common sense: had I been given the opportunity to make the claim in the correct way, I would have. However, I was not given that opportunity.

Let me also assure you that I have been thoroughly discouraged from flying with you again. If this is the way you are going to treat your customers I will obviously take my business elsewhere.

I will restate the above one final time, in order to make it absolutely clear: I see absolutely no reason why I should not be given the opportunity to have the damage to my bag, and the losses to my luggage, reimbursed by Virgin Atlantic. The problem lies with your employees, not with me, and I would be astounded if a company like Virgin Atlantic really can't do anything else in this matter.

Yours sincerely,

Patrick

Another 20 days, and I finally had the answer I was looking for:

Dear Patrick

Thanks for your further email form [sic] which I'm sorry to learn of your continued disappointment.

I'd like to explain that it's important to note that claims arising in the course of international carriage by air, are dealt with by our governing bodies and their conventions. The liability of all airlines is clearly defined under the conventions and is supported by 'Conditions of Carriage'. When purchasing a ticket to fly with us you agreed to abide by these terms.

That said, as a gesture of goodwill on this occasion we're willing to consider your claim. So that we can put your claim through for you, you'll need to download a baggage claim form from our website (www.virginatlantic.com). Once you've filled it in, please send it to us with the following documents (though it's a good idea to take photocopies of them before you send them):

· your original ticket
· your original baggage receipts (plus any excess baggage receipts)
· your original 'property irregularity report'
· your original purchase receipts (or proof of ownership) for all the items on the claim form.

The Conditions of Contract on your ticket refer to the airline's limitations of liability. These amounts are not automatically payable, but reflect what the maximum compensation might be.

Even if you don't have a receipt for a piece of luggage, as a gesture of goodwill we'll pay you 50% of its value (after deducting 10% for every year that you've owned it). Unfortunately, we can't pay any claims for valuables. If you have private travel insurance, you could make your claim directly to them. The kinds of valuables we don't cover include:

· jewellery
· money
· keys
· perishable items
· electronic equipment
· fragile items
· metals
· silverware
· business documents
· stocks and shares
· medication
· medical documents
· passports
· other pieces of ID.

Should you have taken out private travel insurance prior to your journey I would suggest that you submit a claim to them.

We thank you for your co-operation and understanding.

Yours sincerely

Jayne Doe
Baggage Claims Executive

The list of items they don't cover seems incredibly long to me, but thankfully in my particular case it didn't matter. I submitted the form and some weeks later received a cheque in the mail. Win! So thank you, Virgin Atlantic, for seeing sense and processing my claim.

Hilarious Virgin Food Complaint Letter

This complaint letter to Sir Richard Branson has just been in the news, and it reminds me of my own woes with Virgin Atlantic.

Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at thehands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it:



I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in:



I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this:



Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation:



It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on:



I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel:



Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations:



Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

XXXX

Apparently, the passenger has now been offered the chance to taste-test the food.

Epic NTL Rant

I thought I'd kick off this blog with an epic complaint letter to NTL which has been doing the rounds for some years now, but which still manages to bring a smile to my face.

Dear Cretins,

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website....HOW?

I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools - such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.

I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bollock jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustration's in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.

John

Welcome

Hello!

Welcome to the Non-Support blog. Here I hope to keep you updated on stories of bad customer support. Some will be my own (not funny, more of a warning), and some won't be (these should be funnier). Enjoy them!