Martin Harbottle's Appreciation of Time

Dominic Utton

• Publisher: Oneworld Publications
• Year: 2014
• eBook ISBN: 9781780743738
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literature General
• Index: Literature

Dan's got a new job. But he's moved out of town in order to start a family and has been commuting into London every day. After fourteen months of the trains either making him late for work or late getting home, he's had enough and decides it's high time that Martin Harbottle, the Managing Director of Premier Westward trains, heard about it.As it turns out, Dan has plenty of time to fill and a lot to say: his work for the troubled paper recently caught up in allegations of 'unethical practices', his rocky marriage and the struggle to adjust to new parenthood. Before long, his forthright opinions on just about everything find their way into his emails. But when Martin begins to respond, a hilarious - and extraordinary - correspondence begins.

‌Martin Harbottle’s Appreciation of Time

‌Letter 1

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: 07.31 Premier Westward Railways train from Oxford to London Paddington, June 1. Amount of my day wasted: 12 minutes.

Dear Mr Martin Harbottle

Good morning.

I do hope you’re well. My name is Daniel and I am a customer of Premier Westward trains. Every morning, five days a week, I catch a Premier Westward train from Oxford to London and every evening I catch one home again. It’s what I do. It’s what I have to do, in order to get to work and back.

As Managing Director of the Premier Westward train company, I am sure you will be fascinated, concerned and most of all keen to hear about my experiences on your trains.

Oh, and before you just pass me on to your customer ‘service’ department, you’ll notice I’ve attached a bunch of emails I’ve sent them over the last six weeks or so. Guess how many replies I’ve had, Martin? Go on, guess.

None. That’s right. I don’t feel very serviced. I don’t feel very serviced at all. And so now I’m writing to you.

Because you must care, right? You must want to do all you can to provide a good service for your paying customers?

I’m writing directly to you – as Managing Director of PW – because, not to put too fine a point on it, the service you run is a shambles. And I thought you should know. Being the man in charge of the whole shoddy operation. The buck stops with you, right? Well, here it is. Here’s the buck. Stop my buck!

I thought you’d like to know how awful it really is, having to catch two of your trains every day. You welcome feedback, don’t you? You want to improve the customer experience, correct? Good.

But you know what? I’ve had a better idea than simply complaining. I’ve decided not to get mad – but to get even. My frustration at the appalling service you provide, at never going more than about three journeys without experiencing a delay, has prompted me into what I’m going to call a ‘project’.

A project! That makes it sound exciting, doesn’t it? Do you want to hear more about my project? You do! Oh goody! Here it is then. Here’s my project.

From now on, every time I’m delayed on one of your trains I’m going to send you an email letting you know about it. Good, eh?

But wait! It gets better! Not only will I send you an email every time I’m late, I’m going to make the length of that email reflect the length of delay on the service you have provided for me. Because, after all, Mr Martin Harbottle, Managing Director, it is your job to be interested, concerned and eager to help with this kind of thing. Because you’re anxious to provide the best service you can to your customers, right? Right.

Good. So, to continue…

The idea is that by sending you an email every time I’m on one of your delayed trains, I shall waste some of your time, just as you have wasted mine. If you’ve only wasted a few minutes of my morning (or evening) I shall accordingly send you a short, pithy, minute-or-two-wasting email. And if, on the other hand, you’ve wasted more of my time, so the email shall be longer, and no doubt far more tedious for you to read.

This morning, for example, you wasted 12 minutes of my time, when the 07.31 train from Oxford to Paddington slowed to a crawl between Maidenhead and Slough. I was late for work. I’ll have to leave work late now. Thanks for that. Thanks for wasting my time, messing up my work schedules and wrecking my evening. My boss was annoyed with me when I arrived in London; my wife will be annoyed with me when I arrive home again in Oxford. And none of it’s my fault. It’s your fault.

The thing is: time is precious, isn’t it? I’m sure you’re not enjoying having your time wasted like this. I’m sure as a go-getting managing director about town (even if the town is Reading, or Slough, or wherever your head office is) you have fantastically busy working days. I’m sure you have a happy, healthy, fulfilling home life too. I’m sure that you wouldn’t want unnecessary wastes of time to impact upon either your work or home life, would you?

Of course not. It’s rubbish when that happens. It sucks.

In fact, I shall even be presumptuous enough to assume that the prospect of receiving many, many more emails like this from me – some of which, let’s not kid ourselves here, will be longer and far more tedious to match the longer, more tedious delays that your train company will doubtless waste my time with – fills you with a kind of dread and ennui. Of course it does! And that’s how I feel every morning at Oxford and every evening at Paddington. It’s like anticipation in reverse. (What do you call anticipation in reverse? What’s the word for when you’re expecting something that you know will be rubbish? Something for us all to think about, perhaps. Something for us to return to, again and again. Anticipation in reverse. The feeling that what’s coming is bound to be disappointing.) I think it could be a theme for these letters! I think it could end up being a – what’s the word? A motif. A conceit.

And in the meantime, that’s my project. Of course, it may be that by some happy miracle your train service suddenly starts doing what I’m paying you to make it do, and run according to the timetables. In which case, this will be both hello and farewell…

But I think we both know that’s not going to happen, don’t we? So, not farewell but au revoir. (That’s French, by the way. It means ‘until we see each other again’. I think. Truth be told, I’m hopeless at languages. I’m a total dumbkopf at languages. I’m très stupide at all that languages stuff. Except the English language, of course. I’m all right at that, Martin. In fact, I’m pretty good at it. It’s what I do, you see. It’s what I am.)

I’ve got a train to catch home tonight, after all. What do you think the chances of it running on time actually are? I mean, as Managing Director of Premier Westward you should be able to put a percentage on one of your trains running on time, shouldn’t you?

Shall we say: 100 percent chance? No, of course not. Ninety percent? Eighty? Fifty? Twenty? Let’s see, shall we?

Au revoir!

Dan

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: 07.31 Premier Westward Railways train from Oxford to London Paddington, June 1.

Dear Dan

Thanks for your email.

I am sorry you have had negative experiences with Premier Westward. I am well aware of the issues customers face each day and use the trains myself every day. When things go wrong I try and assist as much as possible so I feel I am as aware of the issues we face as I can be.

This morning, delays were frustrating for us. All delays are frustrating for us.

I share your view that reliability just isn’t good enough right now and this is primarily an issue with Network Rail reliability. We are applying pressure for improvement.

Also, do you mind if I ask a question of my own? I’m curious as to how you obtained my email address?

Martin

‌Letter 2

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: 07.31 Premier Westward Railways train from Oxford to London Paddington, June 3. Amount of my day wasted: five minutes.

Hey, Martin! (You don’t mind me calling you Martin, do you? It is how you signed off your letter, after all.)

Hey Martin! Thanks for your letter. Imagine that! The Managing Director of Premier Westward trains, writing to me! I feel… honoured, Martin. Humbled.

It was good of you to write back to me. I didn’t expect it, if I’m being honest, but thank you very much for taking the time to do it. It was big of you. You’re a gentleman.

Guess what? Yesterday I wasn’t delayed at all! You got me to work, and you got me home from work, and all at the times you promised me you would. Well done! I’m proud of you, Martin. For a crazy moment I even wondered if it had something to do with my letter, my project – whether it really had spurred you into action, forced you to pull your finger out.

Silly of me, I know. I’m embarrassed just thinking about it. Because here we are, just the day after the day after my first letter, and I’m having to email you again. Admittedly, this morning’s train was only delayed by five minutes, but still. Rules are rules. We have to play by the rules.

I’m a firm believer in playing by the rules, Martin. And for that reason, just as I promised, this letter will be correspondingly about half the length of the last one. Just as my delay was half the length.

One thing, however. You asked how I got your email address. I used my skills. Or as the kids say, my skillz! The skillz I’ve picked up from ten years of working in the seamier side of the media! I’m a journalist, you see. (Oh, I can sense your ears prick up already.) I work for the Globe. Yes… THAT Globe. (Was that a sharp intake of breath, Martin? We’re not all bad, you know!) Finding people’s email addresses – it’s part of what I do. It’s surprisingly easy. I could probably get your mobile number too, if I could be bothered.

But don’t worry. I can’t be bothered. Emails it shall be.

Oh, also: something else in your kind reply intrigued me. You try to help out when there are delays? Really? How do you do that? I have a vision of you, Martin, stridin...

Table of contents

• Prologue
• Martin Harbottle’s Appreciation of Time
• Epilogue
• Acknowledgements