Dear Customer Services...

I wonder if I will get a reply?

Sir,

I am sure that you, like I, will appreciate the irony in the fact that it has taken your website, one dedicated to literature and the spoken word, with its claimed array of ten thousand books, to finally shatter my faith in the English language: our glorious mother tongue, the toolbox of great writers such as Shakespeare and Milton, the aural palette of great poets, such as Shelley, Tennyson, Dr. Seuss and Keats.

Always, until now, I had supposed that its diversity, its adaptability, its sheer depth and breadth made our language equal to any challenge put before it, but sadly, no more. It makes me feel traitorous to admit it, but even with the whole sweeping expanse of words and phrases; verbs, adverbs and adjectives; nouns and pronouns to draw from, the language is just not equipped to adequately convey the feelings of contempt and frustration that your computer software has instilled within me.

For a start, the idea that one even needs special software to use the product is not immediately apparent. It is, I confess, mentioned at the bottom of your home page, but should one, as did I, choose to sign up before scrolling all the way down, then it is entirely possible not to discover that one is compelled to use this software until after one has already purchased one’s first titles.

However, at this stage one is still blithely unconcerned. If one has to download the software, then so be it. How difficult can it be, one asks oneself? Oh dear. One soon finds out, but only when it is too late.

The mere fact that the F.A.Q. index alone covers seven pages, detailing over 130 topics, answers that question as eloquently as one could wish. But, alas, who looks at the F.A.Q. before one downloads the software?

This strategy is, of course, even cleverer than is immediately apparent, containing, as it does, its own cast-iron defence. One can just hear the defence Lawyer in the court: “Oh, come now, Mr. Victim, how can you possibly complain about my Client’s software not being fit for the purpose, when you were fully aware of this before you purchased the product? You cannot possibly expect this court to accept that you believed for a moment that any product with an F.A.Q. openly advertising that you are likely to be confused by it on no less than 136 separate occasions was anything other than crap right from the start.” Q.E.D. Case dismissed, and probably with costs awarded. Quite brilliant.

But, by this time, with one’s £17 already committed, one leaps hopefully into the F.A.Q. jungle only immediately to fall foul of the first major flaw. It might perhaps be logical to have listed the questions in some sort of chronological order, starting, say, with “How many hours, days or weeks of my life should I set aside to have any hope of completing an Installation in one sitting” and then running through the possible questions in the order in which they are likely to occur, right the way through to “Can you recommend a good on-line supplier of anti-depressants?”

But, no; whilst that might be the logical way to do it, the actual method is to scatter the questions randomly throughout the entire document, possibly in the hope that the customer will derive additional excitement from the treasure-hunt aspect of the exercise.

Once one has found one's topic, or what has been cunningly disguised to look as if it might be one's topic, one then finds that it, too, contains yet more alternative options, leaving one to guess which, if any, is actually going to solve one’s problem.

At this point, I do have to acknowledge the sheer Machiavellian brilliance of some of these answers. My particular favourite is the one that tells you what to do if you cannot even establish a link with the server to download or activate parts of the software.

(This is naturally Question #62 on page 4 of the F.A.Q. – because, of course, you are bound to encounter 61 other problems before you have even completed downloading the programme… However, I digress.)

This particular answer tells you to open the software and click on “Tools” and then “Change Internet Settings”.

Reasonable enough, one might think, apart from the fact that there is no “Tools” button on the task bar. This is sheer quality because, of course, the poor victim will inevitably spend a considerable amount of time looking for one. “The F.A.Q. says it is there, therefore it must be there.”

And so, even though it patently is not there, one spends an eternity clicking everything in sight, in the vain hope that the “Tools” tab might thus be revealed.

I trust that the programme does contain some sort of spy ware, by which your IT technicians are alerted to the fact that someone, somewhere has clicked F.A.Q. #62 so that they can all gather round a monitor and watch live as the poor sap plays “hunt the ‘Tools’ button”?

If not, I am sadly disappointed, as they are definitely missing a trick. (I also assume that they run a sweepstake on how long each player will last, and I would like to put my entry in at 17 minutes.)

(Incidentally, you might suggest to your marketing department that if they were to introduce a range of small waxen images of your IT technicians, they will surely become a rapid best seller. I do not wish any credit or commission for this idea. The knowledge that it will have brought joy to countless others will be reward enough.)

And so, my book remains unheard. If my current plan of sacrificing a small chicken to the computer gods fails to bring relief; and if I remain unable to discern which of the 136 questions actually contains the hidden information that the software will only work if you activate it by the light of a new moon whilst wearing a blue lycra codpiece and singing the Lithuanian National Anthem, then it will continue to do so. (And I feel sorry for female users who will look even more ridiculous in a blue lycra codpiece than will I).

The idea behind your product is a good one – and one that, if it worked, I would recommend to several of my acquaintances who would, I know, use it extensively. As it is, however, once I have finished writing this letter, I am going to enrol at a University, do a degree in journalism, take employment with a computer services magazine and work my way up to a place from whence I can write damning reviews of your site to be read by all and sundry.

Why?

Because it will be considerably easier, quicker and far less stressful than trying to download and listen to one of your damned books.

I remain, Sir, your obedient servant.

M.A.D.