Impertinent questions

 First posted April 2010

A few days ago our toaster died.  I should have just left it by the front gate for the ragman.  However, being a good citizen, I rang Envirocall this afternoon to see how best to dispose of it. 

I’ve had to ‘phone Envirocall a few times over the years and their call centre women have invariably been charmless and overbearing to the point of bullying.  I once wrote a letter of complaint which was apparently totally ineffective.  I appreciate dealing with the great unwashed is unrewarding but even so their telephone manner and attitude doesn’t help.

After three attempts, and listening for minutes to their recorded messages telling me I would be dealt with as soon as possible, I finally got through to a human and asked whether I should put the toaster (worth £5 new) in my recycling bin or normal bin?

“Oh no you can’t do either of those” she said in horrified didactic tones “you’ll either have to bring it to the incinerator YOURSELF or arrange to have it picked up.” 

Her tone of voice made this sounded more like an order than advice to the valued customer their recorded messages reassured me I was.

I didn’t bother to point out that our binmen’s schedule gives them no time to do anything other than stick the wheely on the wagon and trundle it back to near the front gate.  The idea that they might be able to see what’s four foot down in the bin, let alone hoik it out is ridiculous.

So I opted to have it collected:-

I was quite happy to give her my address as this is fairly essential to having something collected.  I’m not sure why my ‘phone number was required but maybe they’d need to get in touch for some reason.  But at the next but one question I dug my heels in.

The dialogue went something like this.

“What’s your name?”

“Benton Bag”

“Miss or Mrs?”

“What’s my marital status got to do with anything?”

“I need it for the computer.”

“Well unless the computer wants to marry me it’s none of its business.”

“But I need it for the computer.”

“I don’t care.  Whether I’m married or not has got nothing to do with getting a dead toaster picked up.  Tell the computer to go away”

(I’m actually quite proud of being restrained enough to say go away instead of the more vulgar alternative)

At which point she gave up and went on to tell me when the collection date would be.

I know in the grand scheme of things being asked “Miss or Mrs?” is not hugely important - but honestly!

This is a modern democracy in the western hemisphere in the twenty first century.  We’ve had the vote for nearly a century, the (admittedly ineffectual) Equal Pay Act and feminism for nearly half a one and anti-discrimination legislation coming out of our ears.

Yet women are still being routinely asked their marital status for things and occasions where it has absolutely no relevance whatsoever.

Men aren’t.

That is sexual discrimination and it is being practiced by North Tyneside Council and their associate Envirocall, sometimes known as Sita, and whoever designs their software.

It is also hugely annoying.

So ladies, women or girls (however you prefer to be addressed) let’s stop this intrusive waste of ink, electricity and computer memory and revolt against irrelevant Mrs or Miss questions.  Ask them why they want to know?  If they don’t give you a satisfactory reply (and “the computer wants it” isn’t) tell them it’s none of their business and maybe eventually they’ll learn.

In the meantime the next time I’m asked I may reply “Baroness” and see how the computer deals with that!