Bear with me, please, gentle reader. This is a complicated tale of woe, a battle of David and Goliath, in several acts. It involves yours truly and Our Great National Airline (OGNA for short), Aer Lingus.
I have to admit that there is "history" between us, although the Brussels office of OGNA might not recall it.
Act One: That was the time I got bumped off a flight to Brussels. "So sorry, sir, but here's a credit note for £200 for your trouble. Do travel Aer Lingus again."
Imagine my surprise, then, to find that when I go back to book a couple of tickets for considerably more than £200 and present my flexible friend to pay for the balance, I am told this is impossible. The credit card payment must be for the whole of a transaction. The Brussels computer simply can't cope.
As for the credit note, I am given to understand that it is a gift, and I am a lucky fellow indeed who should not be so grudging about the company's generosity. Funny, I thought I was the one doing Aer Lingus a favour. . .
Brussels computer
I complained to the press office (I know I shouldn't, and I certainly will not do so again) and the matter was sorted out. In fact, they told me, there never was a problem. I must have misunderstood. Nevertheless, the Brussels computer refused to produce the ticket and so it was written out by hand. Funny that.
Act Two: Then there was the time I was forced to cancel a ticket. "No problem, sir," said OGNA. "There's just the small matter of the 20 per cent cancellation fee." No small matter on an "economy" midweek fare to Dublin - a mere £90.
"But we're afraid your rebate will take at least three months because you have paid by credit card. We can't give you your money back, after all, until we get it. That's reasonable. Or would you like a credit note?" No, I would not like a credit note.
Act Three: And then there was our latest contretemps, the proverbial straw for this camel's back.
The scene: the new OGNA office in Brussels. Enter Muggins who has been invited to speak at a Dublin meeting. I had booked a midweek return "economy" ticket - roughly £420 - only to be told the next day that the meeting had been postponed. Good. A chance to spend the weekend in Dublin and, hopefully, fly at the cheaper rate of £120.
"There is, of course, the 20 per cent cancellation fee," I am told, "but we'll just upgrade you and not charge it."
No, thank you, says I. Hold it right there. I'd rather pay the cancellation charge (about £84), pay for the ticket at the cheaper rate and still get £216 back, if you don't mind.
Fine. "But, because you paid by credit card we will not be able to give you your rebate for at least three months."
Grim foreboding
OK, says I, feeling a deep sense of both deja vu and grim foreboding. Give me a credit note. "My wife is also planning to travel back and will be in next week to buy a ticket." A credit note is produced.
Act Four: Enter trusting spouse, alone. Could she please have a return ticket to Dublin. Saturday night included. Price £120.
"Certainly madam. How would madam like to pay?"
"I have this credit note," spouse says confidently.
"I'm sorry, madam, but this credit note is addressed to Patrick Smyth and is non-transferable."
"But he's my husband, I can prove it, and he told you when he got it that I would be using it."
"I remember your husband, but I'm afraid I have no recollection of the conversation, madam. And anyway, it's against the rules."
Stand-off
Now despairing spouse: "Look, if I get him to come in and present the note himself, will that do?"
"I'm afraid not, madam. Credit notes can only be used to purchase tickets for those named on them." Stand-off.
Now incandescent spouse - who clearly gives up too easily in these situations - prepares to hand over the conjugal Visa card and pay OGNA yet more money out of the same account. But OGNA repents.
"Just the once, for you, exceptionally, we will let you use the credit note." Smiles all round. She really was very pleasant. "There's only one problem. The balance. We still owe you £96. Will you take a credit note?"
Aaaaargh.