First Great Western
Bristol Temple Meads lost property.

Here dwells possibly the biggest arsehole jobsworth in the universe. He lives in a kind of glass monkey cage in the underpass.

I lost my wallet on a train a year ago, and I got a letter a couple of months later, asking me to go to the above station with the enclosed ref number to pick up my lost property. Down I went, with said number in hand, having parked semi-legally outside, because I thought it'd only be a flying visit. I gave the number to the man behind the counter. The man went into the back, and came back with a brown jacket.

I said 'Sorry - but I lost a wallet, and this jacket isn't mine'.

He checks the ref number against his book of pedantry. 'It says here 'brown jacket''.

Me 'Yes, that may be, but I've come here to pick up my lost wallet - maybe there's been some mix up'.

Him 'It says here you lost a brown jacket'.

Me 'Yes, I think we both understand that, but I have come to pick up my wallet. I have never owned a brown jacket'.

Now - repeat the last 2 section about 40 times. This went on for 15 minutes, until I eventually got so fucked off, I went to get the station manager. As I walked off, I heard a satisfied, sneering chuckle from behind me. I'm not normally an angry person, but I felt like strangling this c**t with his own intestines.

Anyway, when I eventually got hold of the station manager, he gave an 'oh God, not again' kind of resigned sigh, went down to the lost property, took a quick look at the book, apologised for the mix up, went into the back and retrieved my wallet, all in about 10 seconds flat.

And I got a parking ticket.
(8-Ball, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:27, Reply)