I’ve already told you about my troubles with Orange. Well, here we go again.
So hold on tight, because you’re going to get lost with me in the corridors of the house that drives you mad!
For those who might not be familiar with the reference, it’s this:
Step 1: the breakdown
It was on a balmy summer’s afternoon – Friday 21 August, to be precise. The heatwave had broken, and in the semblance of coolness that had replaced it, I was relaxing comfortably, sipping my coffee in front of the telly.
When suddenly… nothing. My telly displayed an error message:
‘Can’t display the channel, madam’.
And so, having learnt from experience, I glanced at my modem… there was that dreaded red ‘death’ light (which, in any case, kills the internet connection).
Anyway. These things happen, and as it usually reconnects an hour later, I waited a while.
But nothing happened.
So I rang the business helpline. On 178.
The usual rigmarole. Press 1 for Arabic, 2 for French. I press 2. And loads of options, but none for reporting a fault. Eventually I choose one that’s close enough, and then they tell me something (but what on earth?) in Arabic… Leaving me completely in the dark. Well, obviously – I’d asked for French, but they spoke to me in Arabic…
Anyway, it’s Friday evening, so I give up.
I keep an eye on my red indicator light all weekend; it stays firmly red.
Step 2: the branch
So, to make my complaint, I go to a branch.
The lady, who’s only moderately friendly, says: “You need to ring 178.”
Well yes, you daft, charming lady from customer services, I’ve already done that and it doesn’t work.
As she looks on in disbelief, I try again on speakerphone.
She realises I’m not just making things up.
And she gives me another number, which doesn’t appear ANYWHERE on the Orange website.
Etape 3 : le service client par téléphone
Now I have to enter my landline number. Once. Then a second time, followed by #.
An agent answers. And asks for my telephone number.
Yes, the one I’ve just entered. Because your call centre isn’t capable of passing that information on to you?
Anyway.
He tells me that there is indeed a fault, but that in the meantime, they can provide me with a temporary USB stick, which I can collect from a branch.
But not the branch I’m in. Poor little run-of-the-mill branch.
At a service point. A ‘store’. There aren’t many of them in Casablanca:
- boulevard du 2 mars
- boulevard Bir Anzarane
- boulevard d’Anfa
I asked the unfriendly lady to give me the address of the shop on 2 Mars, and she replied, “Boulevard du 2 Mars, near the church”.
Step 4: the branch on 2 March
But here’s the thing: there aren’t any churches on Avenue du 2 Mars. Banks, cafés, restaurants – you name it – but no churches. And that bloke in the taxi doesn’t ask me a single question and drops me off at one end of the avenue.
The wrong end, of course.
So here I am, walking back up Avenue du 2 Mars, keeping an eye out for the Orange sign.
After a quarter of an hour, there it is.
I go into the shop.
I wait for the four people in front of me to finish their business.
I’m standing in front of a customer service adviser.
“Good morning, madam, customer services told me to come and collect a USB emergency key.”
“There’s a problem – we’re out of stock.”
I’m starting to get a bit annoyed. I’ve been dealing with this issue for an hour and a half now.
The lady swears to me that there are keys in Bir Anzarane and Anfa.
She gives me the address in Bir Anzarane, “near the post office”. Can you see where this is going?
Step 5: the Bir Anzarane branch
The shop isn’t near the post office.
But at least this way, the taxi drives up the boulevard with me and drops me off right outside the shop.
They’ve got USB sticks. Yeah! I feel like I’ve come back to life.
The lady at customer services fills in loads of paperwork and hands me the stick.
She tells me it has 30 gigabytes. And that you can’t recharge it.
Is this a joke? I work online – 30 gigabytes will last me… two days?
The instructions are clear: plug the stick into the modem’s USB port, and you’ll connect to your usual network. No password, no username, nothing, nada – just plug it in.
Step 6: the troubleshooting key that doesn’t actually solve the problem
I’m doing what the lady told me to do.
I plug in the USB stick and click ‘Connect’.
It seems to be working. (I’ve got the little ‘connected to the internet’ icon in my status bar.)
It just looks like it. But it doesn’t.
Because it’s telling me I need to log in to the network. And it takes me to a page where there’s absolutely nowhere to enter a username – which I don’t have anyway.
Step 7: Customer service by telephone
So I ring the magic number again to explain my problem. I enter my line number, I enter it again, and I’m put through to an agent. I explain my problem. He tells me he’s going to put me through to the technical support team.
I’m asked for my line number again. I give it to him and explain my problem once more. He goes to check and asks another agent.
Who asks me again for my line number and what they can do for me. I explain my problem again.
After two more transfers, I’m put through to a female agent, who asks me to test the modem and the dongle (by unplugging and plugging it back in) and tells me that the dongle is working perfectly, and that the only solution is to go back to the branch that gave it to me. 
Well, to be honest, shelling out a total of 40 dirhams on a taxi for 30 gigabytes (so 30 dirhams) really gets on my nerves, so I just put the USB stick on my desk.
Step 8: The technical department – ‘it’s a global problem’
This morning, fed up with my red light flashing, I rang customer services again. I had to enter my phone number twice more and explain my problem.
They offered me a recovery USB stick. I explained that it wasn’t working.
And then they put me straight through to a technician.
Someone explains to me that “it’s a communal connection; it’s the Belvédère junction”.
“The technicians are working on it” (I’ve been told that for six days now).
“The technical department will fix it, Inch Allah”.
“When? I can’t tell you”.
He repeats to me several times that “it’s a communal connection”.
But what’s that got to do with me?
I want MY connection, whether it’s a shared or individual problem.
So you’ve got hundreds of Orange customers who’ve lost their internet connection, and that’s all you’ve got to say.
I vaguely hear the word “works”—for all I know, it might be some clodhopper who’s cut the cable with his excavator.
But when this happened a few years ago, near Kelaat MGouna, Maroc Telecom restored the connection within two days.
This time it’s been six days. Seven tomorrow.
I have a business contract. Service is ‘guaranteed’ within 48 working hours.
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