The escalator saga concluded

My last piece was about the long delays to repairing the down escalator at Waterloo. Well, what do you know? It’s working again. Has the bitter sarcasm and searing invective voiced in this blog done the trick? I think I can claim some of the credit anyway. Once they realised they were being watched and reported upon, the game was up. So, another case closed and filed away under “V” for victories.

De-escalation

The down escalator at the Shell centre entrance to Waterloo tube station has been out of action since September. Until the beginning of March, we were informed that it would be fixed by mid-February. Now a notice merely says that it will be fixed and implies a sense of urgency. Ha bloody ha. 7 months to fix an escalator? From the country that thinks it can host the Olympic games and use the London Underground system to shift a significant number of the spectators and participants? I can’t wait for the “unexpected delays” and “we are awaiting spare parts” notices that will festoon the Jubilee Line during those fraught days in 2012.

Tesco's promise

Although I commute by train, I am also a car driver and have some sympathy for those whose cars failed recently thanks to contamination of petrol supplies. In this morning’s paper Tesco have taken out a full-page ad to apologise (although as they were the retailer, it would be more fitting if the oil refinery / wholesalers had done so).

My eye was drawn to a curious wording in the body of the ad (there is plenty of time for this sort of thing on my morning journey into Central London). “We’d like to promise to pay for the repairs”. At first glance a great admission of corporate culpability and a refreshing willingness to make amends. Now let us deconstruct the meaning of those few words, those oh-so carefully chosen words. 

Remember always that a raft of PR people and a flotilla of corporate lawyers have sifted and vetted every nuance and shade of interpretation of this simple statement. They could have said “We will pay for the repairs”. But they did not. They could have said “We promise to pay for the repairs”. Not in any way so strong or even legally binding, but something pretty difficult to wriggle out of. Obviously too strong for m’learned friends to sanction. Perhaps they envisaged a flood (that’s the third marine reference I’ve snuck in so far, hope you are keeping count at home) of claims that would envelop their clients in a tidal wave (that’s four) of litigation, with weepy-eyed drivers breaking down in court and howling “but you promised…”. 

So what we got was the weasel words “We’d like to promise…”. Yes. I’m sure they would like to. Hell, even I would like to be able to make such a promise. But this is a mere statement of a state of mind. It is not binding in any sense. It is not a promise. Should Tesco turn down any claims, they are not even reneging on a promise because they have not actually made a promise.

 I can easily picture their lawyers, feet up on a gleaming desk, fees clocking up at £500 an hour, explaining this to some hapless motorist who thought he was onto a good thing. I’m not really attacking Tesco. I suspect that they do really mean to keep their apparent promise. It just bothers me that they felt unable to say so.By the way, just to show how carefully one should read this sort of thing, the BBC web site failed to get it right. According to them  the wording is “we’d like to pay for the repairs”.

From the pulpit

“Thought for the day”, the obligatory religious slot on Radio 4’s Today programme informed us all of the onset of Lent. We are advised to give up something to mark our observance. Fair enough. I shall give up listening to Thought for the day.

Keeping informed

It was quite a difficult morning on the Metropolitan today. The trains were delayed by a signal failure at Finchley Road and also by a tree on the track (some said on a train) at Chorley Wood. The platform at Ruislip Manor was busier than usual when I arrived and there was a wait for the first southbound Met. This was pretty full when it arrived and very full by the time it reached Harrow. Trains from Uxbridge come in on the “slow” down platform 5 and the fast trains from Watford and Amersham come in alongside on 6. There was a train on 6 as we pulled in, but unusually they announced that it was going no further and that our train had been promoted to be a “fast” (you save a few minutes by not stopping at the next three stations). Given that there were plenty of people on that train, and that ours was already full, this did not go down too well but, as I had a seat, I could afford to be a bit smug about it.
We crawled down the track and reached Baker Street twenty minutes late. Nothing too strange about this but what was remarkable was the number of announcements made to keep us informed. Not only by our very friendly driver, but also at every station stop. The electronic platform displays were absolutely useless, of course, telling us nothing at all but the announcers did explain that there was a problem and that there was another train just behind, which must have been reassuring to those standing on the wet platforms, because normally there is no information at all about following trains at Harrow and stations to the north and west of it.
When things like this happen, frustrating as the delays are, I still think about what would happen on the Piccadilly which was until recently my route to work. Answer – very few announcements and knee-jerk cancellation of trains on the Uxbridge branch so as to give priority to Heathrow trains.  With that in mind, the odd glitch on the Met, when it is handled like it was today, is easily forgiven