Can we check your meter, Peter? (or Utility futility)

That’s it. I’m declaring war on companies not bothering to show up during the agreed timeslot.

I got up early on Saturday. I was in the shower by 0715 on my day off, to make sure I was done, dressed and had consumed my cereals and toast in time for the start of the 0800 timeslot.

Following a letter in the post, an appointment had been booked weeks previously for a representative to come round and check that our gas meter was safe. Nothing to worry about, routine check, it is very important that you book it in NOW, we have the right to forcibly enter your house etc.

Despite previous experience suggesting that from the point my doorbell rang to me saying “Thanks, bye” would be well under five minutes, a 4 hour slot was allocated.

So, on about the nicest day of the year so far, I was trapped in my own home, waiting for a visitor whose stay would be so brief, you’d still be on the “Galileo!” bit of Bohemian Rhapsody (if you had the strange habit of timing engineers using the ‘Queen No.1s length” scale) by the time they were Scaramouching off to their next meter check.

As is the case in these situations, I became paranoid that I wouldn’t hear the doorbell. Was it still working? Would I be able to hear it if I was in the kitchen and boiling the kettle? I’d better not turn the radio on. Maybe I should just sit by the front door, to be on the safe side?

Three hours in, and my bladder of steel was starting to point out that I’m getting on a bit, and maybe it was time to take the risk and pop to the loo. But no – I soldiered bravely on, eschewing a second, life-affirming, cappuccino and risking dehydration to ensure I didn’t miss the tolling of the bell.

Not for me, that little card that they only put through the letterbox when they know you’re in the throne room, telling you they called but you weren’t in, whilst you scrabble desperately with the loo roll.

1200 passed. 1215. They should have at least rung by now! Dare I risk a controlled dash to the bathroom? Oh, the terrible torment.

When I rang them at 1245, they said “Oh... there’s nothing booked in, but it says here someone came round on the 9th?” The 9th. The day we rang to make the appointment. “Ah... maybe we ticked the wrong box and said it had been done. Sorry!”

I propose an immediate change of the law. If a utility firm misses their ridiculously expansive timeslot, we should be able to bill them at minimum hourly wage rate. You owe me £28.80, nPower. Plus an admin charge for having to sort it out in the first place, then sit through your interminable “Press 3 for appointments” call waiting system.

Let’s call it £50, shall we? I accept cheques or cash. I’ll pick it up between 8 and 12...

This post first appeared as my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 10th of March, 2017. The version used on their website featured an alarming two pictures of me, and went with the "Can we check your meter, Peter?" headline, whilst the print edition plumped for "An exercise in utility futility".

I've missed at least half a dozen calls from a very polite lady at nPower, who keeps leaving me messages about my complaint. It's not like they can fix it, unless they're able to control time and can pop back to last weekend and make their meter person actually show up.

If they can do that, I'm sure there are far more exciting things they could be doing with that kind of ability...

(CD A-Z: Gary Numan's brooding "Pure" from 2001. Is it very dark in here, or is it just me..?)

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