The following is an email I wrote recently after a particularly inspirational customer service experience. De Facto Monopoly Company is called something else in real life, and if there is a company called DFMC out there, let me emphasise that my experience had nothing to do with them. Other details have been also altered to protect the less than innocent.

On 09/04/10 15:29, Such And Such wrote:
Dear Mr Rinta-Koski,

I refer to your recent enquiries made regarding the status of your replacement cheque for the (…) sale of your (something I used to own).

Upon your advice that you did not receive your replacement cheque, we organised for a replacement cheque (cheque number XYZ) to be sent out to you on 6 April 2010. Can you please confirm you are in receipt of this cheque?

I would like to express our regret that you have had to make multiple enquiries regarding the status of said payment, to our web queries email. I am emailing you to provide a more personalised response and to allow for any required follow-ups to be made directly to myself.

Dear Such,

I have indeed received the cheque after 3 months of what can only be described as Kafkaesque “communication” with Mr/Ms Customer Centre.

In case you, unlike the various people corresponding as “Customer Centre”, are interested in the quality of De Facto Monopoly Company’s customer service and possibly even in a position to do something to improve it, please allow me to point out a few details of my customer experience. I trust you’ll agree that there is a delightfully vast land of opportunity awaiting the gallant person who takes it upon him/herself to tackle these issues.

I logged on to the DFMC Customer Centre website on 22/1/2010 after a long break and found out that my things had been sold in August 2009. I also found out that a cheque had been sent. Unfortunately, at this point the online system still had my previous address. As the cheque had been sent to that address, I never received it. I then proceeded to change my address in the online system. After this I called the Customer Centre and talked to a representative, who assured me that a replacement cheque would be sent as soon as possible. I do not have a recording of the phone call, but I’m sure you do – feel free to check it.

Having talked to the DFMC representative on the phone on 22/1/2010, I assumed that the cheque would indeed be sent immediately and would arrive within a few days. I then sent a message through the website, with the following content:

My things were sold on 6/8/09 and a cheque was sent to my previous address. I never received the cheque. I called the Customer Centre support number on 22/1 and was told that instead of a cheque my Major Australian Bank account would be credited and that it would take a few days. This hasn’t happened as of yet.

I did not record the date of this message, but I assume it was two days before I received a reply on 5/2/2010, as all communications back from Customer Centre took at least two days.

How is it that your phone lines can be answered immediately or at most after a few minutes in the queue, but emails take several days? Especially emails that only contain words to the effect “please send more info”, as was the case here:

Dear Mr Rinta-Koski,

Thank you for your email enquiry.

In order that we may assist further, please reply with the following information:

- The name of the things < Thingamajig

- The full registered name/s of the owner of things

- The full registered address of the owner of things < please provide old and new address

- The Thing Owner Reference Number/holder number (TORN) or Thing Identification Number (TIN) for the things. (TORNs begin with the letter ‘I’ or ‘N’ and TINs begin with the letter ‘X’ or ‘L’ for example, I0012345678, N0012345678 or X0012345678, L0012345678. This can be found on thing statements or payment advices previously issued)

If you have any further queries, please contact us.

Yours sincerely, Customer Centre

You’ll note that I already provided the name of the things (Thingamajig), the name of the owner (myself), and the rest of the information (with maybe the exception of my old address) would have been available on your very own online system, had the person replying to the email bothered to look it up. I replied to the email with the information requested and added the following note:

I am left wondering a) why the payment was sent as a cheque when I have provided my bank account details and b) why this matter was not resolved even though your representative told me on the phone on 22/1/2010 that it would be.

I then received this reply on 9/2/2010:

Please refer to our written correspondence dated 25/01/2010. As stated in the letter, you asked that we make your payment directly into your bank account. Unfortunately the seller only offers the direct credit facility at the time of the original payment, and not for replacement payments. Consequently, you received a replacement cheque.

This short paragraph contains three issues I’d like to point out.

First, the opening “Please refer to our written correspondence dated 25/01/2010.” This assumes that there had been such correspondence. There had not been anything of the sort – I had not received any written correspondence, and indeed would not receive any written correspondence until April. I can only assume that a letter had indeed been sent, but that it had been sent to my old address. You may recall that I changed my address on the website on 22/1/2010.

Second, “the seller only offers the direct credit facility at the time of the original payment, and not for replacement payments.” If the direct credit facility had indeed been used at the time of the original payment, this sorry saga would have never had to unfold, as the proceeds would have been credited to my account and all would have been well.

With regard to the replacement payment, I am willing to give you the benefit of doubt and assume that there is a reason for being able to directly credit the account when making the original payment but not at a later date, and that this reason makes sense to someone somewhere. I doubt very much that this reason would make any sense to the person on the receiving end of these payments. This issue may or may not be something that DFMC can do anything about, if not, I’m sure this minor detail can be escalated to the proper address.

Third, “Consequently, you received a replacement cheque.” I find the tone of this statement quite arrogant, as it is factually completely incorrect.

Here’s my reply to this email:

I have not received a replacement cheque, nor a letter dated 25/01/2010. Did you perhaps send it to my old address?

to which I received perhaps the most infuriatingly we-really-don’t-give-a-shit reply of all:

We advise that we require all information relating to the same enquiry be viewable in the one email chain so that we are able to track the progress of the enquiry/request. Please reply directly from our previous email with the information below, so that we may assist you accordingly.

The subject of every single email communication to and from me had the following information, with ever increasing suffices:

Re: Re: 3501193-2225: Contact Us Query – Customer Centre-sf – J-po

Now, it may be silly of me to assume that “3501193-2225″ is some sort of a reference number intended to keep track of email threads. If so, may I suggest that you get rid of this number that has no information value and in its place start using a reference number that can be used for just that purpose. Failing that, perhaps your email system could be augmented so that Mr/Ms Customer Centre can see previous emails from the same sender. Even Microsoft Outlook is capable of this.

I then dutifully replied again, this time making sure that the email contained everything from previous emails:

I have not received any written correspondence from you at my current address. Your claim that “I received a replacement cheque” is simply not true. How come the direct credit facility was not used at the time of the original payment? Please send me a replacement cheque and this time, please send it to the correct address: (my current address).

To which I received this reply:

The payment was for the sale of things. The company, Thingamajig decided to make the payment by cheque. We advise that you’re able to change the address details for your things by one of the following ways: (description of procedure elided)

You may recall that I changed my address on 22/1/2010. I foolishly assumed that that would be it and your system would now know that I now live somewhere else, and that no mail should be sent to an address that is no longer valid. Hence my reply:

I do not wish to change my details as they are correct. What is needed now is for you to post the cheque to the address indicated in your system.

As it turns out, the instructions I was sent for changing my address for the things online were not applicable in this situation, as we shall see a bit later. Feel free to take a break and get a cup of coffee, we’re nowhere near through yet.

The next email I received was this:

We confirm your replacement cheque (cheque number ABC) has been despatched from our offices on 19/02/2010 to the registered address of your things.

This left me a bit puzzled, as I had not received a replacement cheque or anything else for that matter, as indicated by my reply on 22/2/2010:

I’m still waiting for a resolution on this. Today marks the 1 month anniversary of my initial phone call, during which your representative assured me the matter would be taken care of. To recap: I have not received a replacement cheque. I wish to receive a replacement cheque. Please send a replacement cheque. Thank you.

I then received this:

Please be advised, the registered address we have on the things differs to the address you have requested we forward the cheque to. In order to change your registered address details without providing your TRN, please send a written request with certified copies of any two of the following documents for the individual named on the things or in the case of joint things all registered thing owners: etc. etc.

I was still a bit confused, as I had requested the cheque to be forwarded to the address I had myself entered in the online system on 22/1/2010. I then did a bit of research on the website and discovered to my surprise that the old address was indeed indicated for the things, even though my address as a DFMC customer was correct. My reply was this:

> Please be advised, the registered address we have on the holding differs to the address you have requested we forward the cheque to.

I think we’ve established this pretty conclusively by now. I have requested the cheque to be forwarded to the address your system has for me as a user of the Customer Centre. Your system will not let me change the registered address of the things online. I suspect this is because it is down to 0 things.

> In order to change your registered address details without providing your TRN
What do you mean by “without providing your TRN”? I provided it in my email of 5/2/2010, but in case you’ve lost it, here it is again: XXXYYYZZZ

I might also point out that since all correspondence had been carried forward in all emails, the TRN was contained in the very email that talks about doing something without providing it. Look it up, it’s there near the bottom.

Maybe there are customers for whom it makes sense to have different addresses for each thing, but I would assume that this is not generally the case. Maybe the online system could be improved so that in cases such as mine all the addresses change at the same time.

My next email read as follows:

OK, I figured it out.

Your system says that my address for that holding is my previous address.

I have changed my address on your system to my current address on 22/1/2010. This is my current address as shown in your system, except for the things. Your system has not changed the address for the things for reasons unknown to me.

What needs to happen is for you to understand that you need to send the cheque to an address where I am able to receive mail. This would be my current address, my current address. I will not be able to receive mail at my old address.

Please do not send another cheque to my old address.

I then received a Change of Address Notification form via email on 3/3/2010. I filled the form and sent it via Australia Post the same day, 3/3/2010. Now, I realise this may make me sound like a gullible optimist, but I foolishly assumed that this would suffice and the cheque would arrive in due course.

On 11/3/2010 I concluded that this was sadly not the case and sent this enquiry:

I mailed the form back to you on 3/3/2010. Is there something else that needs to happen?

I then had a nauseatingly strong sense of deja vu with the next reply:

In order that we may assist further, please reply with the following information: (same request for information as above)

Of course, it goes without saying that my name and the TRN were once again contained within the email requesting them. I then sent the following reply:

Had you bothered to read the email all the way through, you would have seen that the TRN was already there: XXXYYYZZZ – this is the third time I’ve attached the number – two times of which the number has already been in the email requesting it.

I am requesting, once again, a replacement cheque for the proceeds of the sale of the things under TRN XXXYYYZZZ.

I would also like to have contact information for your manager, as I wish to give them feedback on my customer experience.

I then received this wonderfully vague reply on 19/3/2010 that cheerfully ignores my other request:

We can confirm that a replacement cheque will be sent to your new address as soon as possible.

I then replied:

Thank you. Can you also please give me the information I requested? See below. (repeated request for manager’s contact info elided)

The next reply made me double check that the year is indeed 2010 and not 1984:

Please forward your email to this email address and it will be forwarded to the complaints department or appropriate manager.

We are unable to provide personal contact information of staff members.

Suffice it to say that at this point my trust in the competence of Mr/Ms Customer Centre to forward anything anywhere was teetering between slim to none and rapidly declining.

On 24/3/2010 I sent the following message:

I have still not received the cheque. Could you please tell me what “as soon as possible” means in practice.

A week later, when I still hadn’t received any reply, I sent another message:

I am still waiting. Is this radio silence intended to communicate that De Facto Monopoly Company is not willing to resolve this matter?

In case you need a recap, here it is:

My things, TRN XXXYYYZZZ, were sold last year and a cheque for the proceedings was sent to my old address. I never received the cheque.

On 22/1/2010 – more than two months ago – I changed my address in the DFMC Customer Centre online system to my current address. After changing my address in the online system, I called the Customer Centre and was assured by a DFMC representative that the matter would be taken care of and a replacement cheque would be sent to my new address.

On 25/2/2010 I concluded that the address for the things was not changed as it is not possible to change the address of things with zero balance in the online system. I communicated this in an email.

On 3/3/2010 I mailed a Change of Address Notification Form to DFMC.

After further enquiry, I was told the following in an email from the DFMC Customer Centre, dated 19/3/2010:

> We can confirm that a replacement cheque will be sent to your new address as soon as possible.

It is now 31/3/2010, almost two weeks after this last communication concerning the matter, and I still have not received the cheque. I did receive an email on 23/3/2010, in which I was told that I can not discuss this matter with a manager.

This is the 14th email I am sending on this subject.

Executive summary: when will I get my cheque?

to which I received this reply:

The payment was re-issued on 31/3/10.

I eventually received the cheque on 8/4/2010. It is now pinned to my fridge door with a magnet, as on one hand I am afraid it may otherwise sprout wings and fly away, and on the other I am still not sure whether to believe my eyes that this bizarre episode that took nearly 3 months is indeed over, so I cherish the opportunity to gaze upon it each time I make breakfast.

As an aside, may I suggest that you look into using registered mail when sending cheques worth hundreds of dollars. It may cost a bit more, but it would make an awful lot of sense in cases such as this one.

Yours truly,

Ola Rinta-Koski

The original avatar

(Warning: contains spoilers.)

Terry Gilliam, the co-director of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, once famously said: “When maintaining a very low production standard you can get away with murder.”

The release of Avatar sees James Cameron finally reaping the rewards of relentlessly pursuing his personal Holy Grail for years and years. Up until recently he felt that technology was not worthy of being put to use in unfolding his opus magnificat. Times have changed, and the great auteur has graciously made his masterpiece available to the unwashed masses. Produced on a budget that, according to estimates, hovers somewhere between 300 and 500 million dollars, Avatar is pretty much the antithesis of what Terry Gilliam was talking about.

When you’ve got a really cool hammer, all the world had better be a nail

So, what did Cameron and his legion of CGI artists get away with? Let’s first take a look at the much-vaunted 3-D graphics. If only View-Master had come up with a motion picture version of their educational yet curiously entertaining toy, we would have had Avatar-like experiences 40 years ago. Not that there haven’t been any 3-D movies before Avatar, it’s just that for the most part they’ve been turkeys like Jaws III. Granted, the Avatar world does look plausible enough to be immersive, and there are lots of visually impressive scenes throughout the movie.

Unfortunately CGI is still struggling with realistic motion. Inertia is all but nonexistent, which is especially noticeable in flight. There are in fact no flying creatures in the movie, only winged lizards that swim through the air along impossible trajectories. I’m not buying the argument that this is an alien world where things work differently; I can suspend my disbelief to go with the floating mountains, but a leapin’ lizard moving through air does not glide along a straight path while only occasionally flapping its way too small wings for show, and definitely does not land gracefully without flaring under an Earth-like gravity. Many of the flight scenes felt like they’d been slapped on just so they could be recreated in the associated video game. The average gamer admittedly has somewhat more modest amounts of computing power at their disposal, so maybe the flight artists didn’t go all out on purpose, who knows.

I won’t even go into the “let’s-slap-some-Latex-on-their-foreheads” look of the alien race as popularized by Klingons on Star Trek all those years ago, except to maybe concede that the badass Marine colonel’s joke about chasing tail was actually kinda funny. I’ll also refrain from analyzing the flora and fauna too deeply — suffice it to say that any third-rate Advanced Dungeons & Dragons adventure pays more attention to the plausibility of those sorts of details. The only alien world cliché they missed was not having the planet orbit a double star.

Ignoring the visual candy for a moment, let’s take a look at the meat and bones of what makes a movie. You know, characters, story, the development thereof, acting, dialogue, that sort of stuff. Well, very little of any of that stuff makes a noticeable dent in the glossy armor of Avatar. Look, the 3-D graphics are pretty nifty, but that doesn’t excuse not including any of the above as well. Any decent movie made with real actors in a real environment has all that and much more, so just because a fortune was spent on renting supercomputer rendering time doesn’t mean that the other bits that maketh a movie can simply be glossed over. And no, “I’ll show them and get an even bigger bird!” doesn’t count as character development.

Déja-vù…

Cameron must have felt that he made Aliens so long ago that current audiences weren’t even born back then and therefore it’s OK to plunder from it. Gung-ho space Marines? Check. Hot chick as rough-as-guts Marine sergeant? Check. Paul Reiser (or, in this case, a look-alike) as soulless corporate bad guy? Check. Sigourney Weaver emerging from a pod, check, although 23 years and as many facelifts and Botox shots later, only in a supporting role, presumably to create continuity between the flogged-to-death Alien franchise and the new-and-improved Avatar franchise. Other flashback movies you may have seen include Jurassic Park, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and, by extension, the Johnny-Depp-as-Michael-Jackson remake), Starship Troopers, and Doom the video game (possibly also the movie, which I haven’t seen).

In conclusion, even though it may sound like I hated Avatar, in actuality I’m just pissing in the production company’s pocket because any publicity, especially the free sort, can only serve to generate more money in the coffers of 20th Century Fox. Let’s just hope that James Cameron takes another 12 years to churn out his next epic.

Many moons ago, in another life in a galaxy far, far away, I used to practice karate. I did it for some time, attended a few gradings, and eventually attended a grading in the hope of being awarded the green belt. When the names were called out and I realized mine wasn’t one of them, my heart sank. I was somewhat surprised by my own reaction; after all, the belt is just there to hold your gi together. Anyway, it was the sensei’s call. A bit later on I stopped training and, as it turned out, wouldn’t see the inside of a dojo again for a number of years.

At one time before class, the sensei told two stories that have stayed with me ever since. Bear with me if I bungle up some of the details — these are stories that I heard exactly once more than ten years ago.

Running From the Lions

A man was being chased by a pride of lions. He ran for his life, but the lions were gaining on him. It was obvious that they would soon reach him. Also, he hadn’t noticed that he’d been running towards a cliff edge until he was at the ledge. He leaped off the ledge and fell. There were a few scrubs and small trees growing out of the cliff face. He managed to grab onto a branch and stop his fall.

Hanging in mid-air, the man noticed another pride of lions waiting for him on the ground below. He also noticed that there was a beautiful red flower growing on the cliff face. He leaned towards the flower to smell it. The branch creaked as if it was about to give.

As he inhaled and the fragrance filled his nostrils, he smiled and thought to himself: “What a lovely scent!”

Two Monks and an Old Lady

Two old monks were walking towards the town to get some supplies. The sky was grey; it was raining quite heavily.  As they reached the town, they saw that all the streets were muddy and flooded.

As part of their vows to become a monk, they’d promised that they would never touch a woman as long as they lived. An old lady was trying in vain to locate a dry spot to cross the street. One of the monks asked her if she’d accept assistance. She said yes, and the monk carried her across the street through the mud.

As they were heading back to the monastery, the other monk asked: “Don’t you remember what you promised when you became a monk? What has become of you?” The monk who helped the old lady said: “You’re still carrying her with you — I’m not.”

Epilogue

After a long break I eventually started practicing karate again, in a different country, in a different style. Last Sunday I graded to 6th kyu, or green belt.

Viva Bris Vegas

Life of a cinephile in Brisbane took a definite turn for the better with the opening of GoMA three years ago. The Cinémathèque, located at GoMA, boasts 300 seats between its two theatres and screens stuff that you’d be unlikely to catch at your local neighbourhood cinema, and even less likely to catch at any of the nameless, faceless, and tasteless cineplexes which have sadly all but taken over the movie theatre scene.

So far the Cinémathèque has brought the unwashed masses such gems as a look at “the film legacy of Andy Warhol within the broader context of postwar queer experimental cinema”, complete with no less than seven Bruce LaBruce masterpieces, and the recent Peter Greenaway retrospective. I was especially delighted to finally see The Belly of an Architect on the big screen, even if the movie itself didn’t quite live up to my expectations — but then again, I’m a hard crowd to please.

This week the Cinémathèque is celebrating Halloween with a selection of screenings under the heading “Dead Country: Australian Horror Classics“. Unfortunately I’ve got other plans for the weekend and won’t be able to catch Patrick nor Razorback, both movies that have been on my “to-view” list ever since my teenage pre-Finnish-video-law years, when I started my foray into the world of cinematic horror by watching a 6th generation VHS copy of Evil Dead. This event, of course, instantly corrupted my young and impressionable mind and surely must be largely responsible for the fact that I now don’t have a bald noggin (although the writing is on the wall), a staunch paunch (knock wood), a townhouse in a suburb of Espoo, a Volvo station wagon, a wife, 2 1/2 kids, and a golden retriever. And a partridge in a pear tree — but I digress.

Yesterday’s double feature consisted of two films I’d never even heard of, much less seen before. And what a treat they proved to be.

Maybe he forgot to take his vitamins?

The first offering was Body Melt by Philip Brophy, a movie that can only be described as Alien-meets-The Toxic Avenger-meets-Deliverance. As I suffer from spoiler aversion that can only be described as verging on the pathological *), I won’t go too deeply into describing the plot; suffice it to say that if you liked Bad Taste or Braindead, chances are you’d enjoy Body Melt as well. This movie has it all; gore, slime, violence, car chases, cheap scares, even cheaper laughs, you name it. Probably not a first date movie then — or, if you do take your date to see Body Melt and you’re still on speaking terms afterwards, he/she’s a keeper.

Disobedience is treason, treason is a crime, crime will be punished!

The second movie was Turkey Shoot — and similarly, think Tenth Victim-meets-Logan’s Run-meets-Commando and you’re not too far off the mark. Two of the reviews on IMDb are respectively titled “Probably one of the worst movies of all time…” and “The best film ever!” — I would have to agree in that whatever you think of this movie, you’re unlikely to go ho-hum. Dystopian setting, cartoonish characters, gratuitous nudity and violence — Ozploitation at its finest. While watching the movie, I was struck by the fact that while I wasn’t moved enough to actually hope for any of the characters to survive their respective ordeals — some of them do live to prevail at the end of the movie, but it’s probably not much of a spoiler to point out that not all of them are as fortunate — I was still captivated enough to find out what would happen to any and all of them through the admittedly somewhat predictable twists and turns. Two thumbs and a pinky toe up.

*) I once caught myself avoiding an article on Robocop in the fear of seeing any spoilers; by then I’d already seen said movie about 25 times.

Ray

(Prologue: Ray Ashley 1968-2009 on Youtube.)

I first met Ray in 2000 in Brussels, of all places. We were both in Belgium to attend the legendary Tap-Guitar Seminar in Neufchâteau. Ray was already an incredible tapper who could do amazing things on his 11-string Warr. Me, I was still trying to figure out which way to hold the instrument.

We caught up every now and then over the years, sometimes in Belgium, a couple of times at his place in New Jersey. I felt very privileged to be invited to perform at Summerjam, Ray’s annual musical BBQ fiesta. On one occasion we did a rendition of Tabula Rasa’s Rakastatko vielä kun on ilta together, with Ray on keys and his long-time musical accomplice Joe on drums.

It was Ray’s turn to visit me in Finland in 2004. Being the huge Rachmaninov fan that he was, he made sure to time his trip so we could go and see the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir performing Vespers, Op. 37. We took the ferry over to Tallinn and made our way to Niguliste church. After the gig, Ray had a brief chat with the Russian basso profundo Vladimir Miller — in Russian, of course. As I don’t speak the language, I didn’t join them and so don’t know what his reaction was, but I would bet that he doesn’t get a chance all that often to chat with fans from New Jersey who are fluent in his native language.

We did a road trip to Montreal in 2006. Ray always had a flair for unearthing extremely obscure composers and their even more obscure works, but I think he outshone even himself by putting Sulkhan Tsintsadze on the car stereo. It was a long drive, but I wasn’t about to complain. Instead, I willingly sat shotgun while listening to Ray’s endless yet always entertaining monologues on anything and everything under the sun.

Fast forward to 2009. I was about to leave San Francisco and called Ray to double-check that he would be coming to pick me up. He sounded a bit preoccupied, which wasn’t unusual; he’d had bad days mixed in with the good for a long time. Ray said he’d be there to meet me, I said “see you tomorrow then”, and that was it.

When I got to Newark, I quickly found out that Ray wasn’t going to be there. He’d been wheeled away to hospital that morning. I went to visit him in the intensive care unit. It is not entirely clear whether he recognized me, as he was heavily sedated. I like to think that he did. A few days later, he was gone.

As a postscript, I’d like to present one of Ray’s song lyrics from Three Hour Detour’s eponymous debut album.

Omnichrome

Omnichrome is a great and wonderful city where all colors are experienced with equal intensity at all times. It is one of the true wonders of the Galaxy, contained within a huge geodesic dome.

Far away, a dream a day, perception stained my face.
Only there was I aware of my past.
Far along, the siren’s song, far along the way.
So far to go, so much to know or say.

Soon, I’ll be away from here, back to the place where my mind is clear.
Tell me I am near.

“Dead ahead”, the sailor said, “dead ahead you’ll see,
the colored sky shows you why you’re free.”

Soon, I’ll be in Omnichrome, under the great geodesic dome.
Tell me I am home.