Three

It is Thursday and you realise that after 4 years you need to upgrade your phone. The battery is dying, the gaffer tape is coming loose and the sim card keeps popping out. So you go to your friend, who just happens to work as a communications agent, and you say, 'Kim', because that's his name, 'I need to upgrade my phone. The Sony Ericsson Z1010 and the $99 cap from 3 looks good. We'll take two. How about it?" One for yourself and one for your best friend - because under the $99 plan you can chat to anyone on the Three network for FREE.

Kim smiles and says, "Good choice," his irises forming tiny dollar signs, and then proceeds to deluge you with paperwork. An hour later you're finished and Kim leaves with this promise ringing in your ears, 'You'll have the phones by Thursday or Friday next week and the transfer of your number from Optus will occur on the following Monday.'

You wait anxiously, pawing over the small pamphlet Kim has left behind trying to imagine what it will be like to have your very own Z1010. The week-end rolls by agonisingly and then on Monday you get a call from a Three girl asking for some more details that Kim forgot to get. You give them to her without a thought and then ask her when the phones will be arriving. 'Thursday or Friday', she says. You agonise. You wait. Thursday eventually arrives. You sit by the door all day watching through the spyhole ready to assail the delivery guy when he arrives. You've waited an entire week, why wait the extra few nanoseconds it will take for him to actually knock on the door? Then, as the image through the spyhole dims you swear you're just developing cataracts rather than admit that the phones aren't coming today.

A sleepless night. The next day you are forced to go to work - yes your work week starts on a Friday. Get over it. Your mind is not there. You make mistake after mistake worrying about your phones and the journey you'll have to make out to the airport to retrieve them because the delivery guy missed you. 'Will I actually survive that long?' you wonder.

You arrive home from work and rush to the letter box. Bill. Bill. Spam. Spam. Spam. No message from the delivery guy. He must have left it behind the flyscreen. You race upstairs and throw the door open. Nothing. Not even after you've searched the mat, the meter box, the cat, the next door neighbour's cat. The phones are late. You call Kim, but like most telco guys on a weekend he's not answering.

If you thought the week before was agonising then the weekend teaches you a new definition of pain and suffering. You want your phones. You need your phones. You sit in the corner, rocking back and forward, repeating 'Z. 10. 10. Z. 10. 10." for two days and three nights.

Monday. 8am you're on the phone to Kim. 'Good business men should be awake at 6. 8 is a decent hour', you reason. No answer. You call Three. You wait for 30 minutes on hold and then are put through to the call centre in Lahore or Mumbai or Chennai to speak with a girl named Brooke - or at least that's what you think she said her name was. The accent is a little hard to decipher and you have to keep fighting the urge to mention the Australian cricket team. You want your phones and now is not the time to antagonise the person most likely to get them to you.

Brooke takes your details and you can hear her entering them into the computer. She hums. She hahs. She hmmms. Then politely tells you you don't exist. They've lost the record. She continues to reassure you that they'll find it and sort it out in no time but you don't hear her because all you're worrying about is that you won't be getting your phones today or even tomorrow. Then the words 'Wednesday or Thursday' echo from the phone speaker and you make Brooke swear on a herd of Brahman bulls that they will definitely arrive then.

You wait. 5 minutes. Then you call Kim. No answer. Another 5 minutes. No answer. Shower. Call. No answer. Breakfast. Call. No answer. Journey to work. Call. No answer. Stare at the computer screen for 2 hours pretending to work. The phone rings. It's Kim. He's listens to your complaint and promises to follow it up and call you back later that day. He doesn't.

Another sleepless night. Another call to Kim in the morning. 'I don't know what's happening', he says. 'I've lost 5 customers this week.' Perhaps his work week starts on a Friday too. 'I'll tell you what we'll do,' he continues, 'Give them until tomorrow and then if there're no sign of the phones we'll cancel the contract and you can go into a Three store and they'll give you one in 20 minutes.' You agree and you hang-up wondering why you didn't do this nearly 2 weeks ago.

Wednesday. No Phones. Call Kim. Cancel contract. Go into City. Hay St store. Stephen serves you. He's a cool guy. A little too cool, but he's friendly and mostly competent so you can deal with that. You tell him what has happened. He smiles and tells you there won't be a problem and that you should never ever deal with agents. He just smiles and nods when you tell him that the problem was with Three and not with the agent.

He takes your details. Puts them right into the computer there and then. 100 point ID check. Everything okay until the credit check. Your credit is great. You know there's not a problem, but the system won't let Stephen sign you up because of the previous application - through Kim. 'You'll have to come back tomorrow,' Stephen tells you. You smile and are fairly sure he never saw the clenched teeth behind it. Before you leave you make him promise that he'll start charging the phone batteries as soon as the credit check is done. That way you'll be able to use the phones straight away and not have to wait. Stephen readily agrees.

That night you download the manual from the Sony-Ericsson website. You paw over it memorising every detail especially the fact that it takes 4 hours to initially charge the battery.

Thursday. 9am. You attempt to call the store to remind Stephen to charge the batteries - and if you passed the credit check. 90 minutes later you manage to get hold of Stephen, via the website, the yellow pages, the white pages and New Delhi. 'You passed,' he says gleefully. 'Just hold on a moment.' You can hear him singing loudly to himself and you know he's dancing as well. 'Yep. You passed.' You remind him about the batteries. He assures you that he'll put them on right away. You check the time. 10:35. At 14:36 you should have your phones - fully charged and ready to go.

You take extra care with your shaving and showering. You get out your best clothes. Today is a special day.

At 13:29 you head into the city - taking your time, enjoying your day off. You arrive at the store at 14:02 and wait. Stephen is out the back and will be with you shortly. That's okay. You have 27 minutes and 17 seconds until your batteries are fully charged in any case. You're early. You wait. Look at some of the other phone models available. You avoid touching the mock-up of the Z1010 lest the temptation become too much. You wait. You sit. And eventually Stephen comes out and immediately hands you over to Adam - the store manager. Adam is cool, but not too cool like Stephen. He's a businessman but a friendly one. Stephen has told him all about you. Adam is sympathetic, and reminds you never to use an agent. He smiles and nods when you tell him that the problem was with Three and not with the agent.

He takes the last of your details. Lets you use his mobile so you can call Optus to get your account number so the transition will go smoothly.

After 10 minutes on hold you decide to walk the 20 or so metres to the Optus store to get the details yourself. After all, you have 17 minutes until the batteries are fully charged. You go to Optus and wait while the solitary attendant is serving another customer. Then when she serves you, you ask her for your account number. She's eager to please. Too eager, because she breaks the law by providing you with your best friend's account number too - you have 2 phones, remember?

You return to the Three store and from there on everything goes smoothly. Adam delivers the phones to you with a smile - all fully charged. He then tells you that it will take anything up to 24 hours for the transfer to occur. You barely hear him. You have your phone and it's silver. You depart the store bouncing. You're awake until 1am playing with your phone. You sleep with it beside your pillow - set its alarm function to wake you in the morning.

Next morning - today - you eagerly wake and grab your phone to call your best friend - the person who is half-asleep less than 20cm from you. 'That Three service is unavailable.' comes the voice in your ear. It sounds nothing like your best friend. Oh well, it could take another 6-7 hours to transfer.

2 hours later you receive a call from Kim - on your old phone. 'Did you manage to get into a Three store and get your phones?' 'Yes,' you tell him, 'Why?' 'Because two phones for you were just delivered to me.' 'You cancelled the contract didn't you?' 'Sure did. They must have been in transit. I'll send them back.'

5 hours later. Try calling out again. Same message. Call Calcutta direct via old phone. Told it could take another 96 hours for the transfer because of the influx of new Three customers. Pout. Hang-up. Continue pretending to work. Instead copy mp3s over to your phone. Copy mp3s from your phone to your best friend's phone via Infra-red and Bluetooth. Listen to mp3s on the way home. Feel good even though you can't call anyone to tell them about your new hoopy phone.

Get home. Write blog about the last two weeks.