Some of you might already be aware of the fact that my period of being “between jobs” has come to an end and that I have recently taken on a new work commitment. It’s an exciting, newly created position that I’m really looking forward to sinking my teeth in. There are also some nice perks that come with this new job, like working from home, setting your own hours and free ice hockey tickets (always a big bonus to a Finn!).
One thing that does not come with the job is a work mobile phone. No problem, I thought, I will pop into a mobile phone shop and get an affordable Pay As You Go mobile phone for myself. With Bluewater shopping centre and its 300 shops (including several mobile phone shops) only a 10 minute drive from my house, this was going to be a simple task. But no.
Everything went smoothly to start with, I had chosen my phone within two minutes and got ready to pay, when the alarm bells started ringing in Carphone Warehouse. Well, not literally (than God!) but apparently I came up as suspicious on their database, as I had exceeded the limit of handsets you are allowed to purchase in the last 3 months!
According to their database I had bought one phone in April (correct, it was for my 17-year old son) and another phone in June (correct again, it was for my 78-year old mother-in-law, who wanted my help with choosing her first ever smart phone). So there I am, in the middle of Carphone Warehouse with their “terrorist alarm bells” ringing, just because I wanted an orange coloured Nokia Lumia 635 for work!! “I’m sorry but I can’t put this sale through” says the young chap assisting me, looking sheepishly embarrassed “I need to phone the branch manager, you see, I need to get clearance”. I looked at him partly in disbelief, partly amused. Me? A blonde, plump, middle-aged woman with a Scandinavian accent? Could I be the latest recruit of ISIS? Had I been brainwashed without my knowledge? Or maybe the Vikings were planning a new invasion with the aid of three Nokia phones???
The sales guy walks away to phone his manager (so that I cannot hear this so obviously very delicate conversation) and comes back with a beaming smile. “It’s ok” he says, “ I told the manager you don’t look dodgy”. And so I walked out of the shop with my new phone, delighted to have been cleared as a potential terrorist and having heard a 25-year old handsome man describe me as “non-dodgy”.
How’s my new job going? Very well and the phone is great!