Posts Tagged ‘kum ba ya

15
May
13

Sick Customer Service Award: Afrihost

biglogo1Here at SlickTiger Industries we care deeply about YOU the consumer and want to provide an open and honest forum to celebrate excellent customer service because let’s face it, in South Africa it hardly EVER happens.

I had my doubts when I started this category on the site. We get nailed in the ass so frequently when it comes to customer service, I’d get way more mileage if I changed this to a forum for bitching and moaning.

But that just ain’t my style. Celebrate the positive, give praise where it’s due. Hold hands. Sing Kum Ba Ya, and if you’re looking for an internet service provider don’t even hesitate, go for Afrihost.

We started using Afrihost last year in November because the 3G mobile data we had been using through Nashua Mobile was so over-priced, slow and notoriously unreliable that it was driving us nuts [WARNING: Gratuitous bitching and moaning to follow].

I mean holy shit, we were paying something like R290 a month for (wait for it) 1.5GB of claw-your-face-off slow data. What a total load of shit. And most months we’d end up going over the cap and then heaven help you pal, cause you will get drilled so hard in the gat you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.

 

 

Because here’s the really fucked up thing. When I was with Nashua Mobile / Vodacom, if I wanted to check my data I’d either have to keep an eye out for these crappy smses that were sent to my 3G SIM card notifying me of my data usage (which I ALWAYS forgot to check) or I’d have to log on to Vodacom’s site to check it (which I was terminally useless at remembering the password for).

One month I let things slide for a week without checking only to find that I’d overshot my cap by almost 500MB. Boy did I pay for that mistake – one thousand two hundred South African Ront for having used a grand total of about 2GB. Eina.

It’s a fucking joke. You know how much you pay for 10GB of mobile data with Vodacom? One thousand six hundred Ront! (According to this link on Vodacom’s site).

 

 

Sorry, I’m getting a little worked up here. Reign it back in there Slick, easy Tiger.

Anyway, I was sick of getting shtoomped in the pooper so I decided to do a little digging to sort out an ADSL line in the flat and Afrihost came highly recommended by a lot of the people I spoke with.

Price-wise their offering may not have been the cheapest on the market (at the time I think Axxess had a slightly cheaper offering) but it came pretty damn close.

I’d worked out that if I wanted to go uncapped with a 4Mbps line I was gonna fork out just over R1k a month.

This price changed drastically if I went for a slower line speed, but after the aforementioned face-clawingly-slow speeds I’d experienced some nights on 3G, I wanted the fastest internet money could buy. Also, I’ don’t consume massive amounts of data, so I went for a 15GB capped 4 / 10Mbps line.

 

 

All-in, my ADSL costs me Five hundred and eighty South African Ront every month. And as for speeds, I’m lucky enough to be in an area where I’m connected to a 10Mbps line so I’ve clocked download speeds as fast as 8.26Mbps on www.speedtest.net before. Compare that to the 0.81Mbps speed I was getting on 3G and you can imagine the ear-to-ear grin I get when using the internet now.

But here’s the rub – not only did Afrihost sort out EVERYTHING when it came to getting Telkom guys in to install the line and transferring the line so I pay line rental directly to Afrihost every month, but they kept me informed of their progress every step of the way with emails and smses.

In total it took me a month before I was up and running (the big hold up came from Telkom’s side who really dragged their feet when transferring my line to Afrihost).

If my line gives me any trouble, I can call Afrihost up until midnight and they’ll sort it out. Typically this is a case of about 30mins tops and I’m back up and running. I’m also notified as my data usage hits 50%, 75% and 90% by sms and email and when I hit my cap I don’t get drilled with out of bundle rates, my data just stops.

 

 

If I want more data (at a rate of something like R26 a gig), I just reply to the sms I get when my data runs dry with a number and that’s how many GBs they’ll top me up with.

And best of all, once in awhile, Afrihost decides to be flippin awesome and just sommer give you shitloads of free bandwidth!

In Feb they sent an email saying “Hi Tony, we love the shit out of you. Here, click this link and dig some free bandwidth.” I was a little sceptical but decided to give it a go. After clicking the link a roller appeared on my screen and all these numbers started whirring past until it eventually came to rest on 35%.

Next thing I know, my phone beeps with an sms from Afrihost saying “Congrats, here’s an extra 5GB on your cap, no strings attached. Enjoy!”

 

 

After paying retarded amounts for data, 5GB free just for being a customer was pretty damn sweet.

Get this though, a shitload of their customers apparently complained about this because it only came through during the last week of Feb, so they couldn’t use their free data in time! What a bunch of ungrateful douchebags!

So Afrihost upped the ante and come the first week of March, sent another email apologising for giving us all that rad free data so late in the month and offering to give us MORE free data to make it better!

This time around I clicked the link and almost fell off my chair.

How the fuck is this for amazing:

 

 

With one click my cap went from 15GBs to something like 48GBs! It was retarded! I still had 6GB left at the end of the month, wa-hoo!

Then, at the beginning of this month they send another email saying that for May, June and July they are going to double all our caps just because they love us.

I’ll admit, all the love was getting a little creepy at this point, but whatever DOUBLE MY CAP for the next three months just because I gave them my business? By South African standards that’s basically unheard of.

I can say with 100% certainty that if you’re in the market for insane broadband, you’d be pretty dof not to consider Afrihost and no, they did not pay / bribe me to write this post, I just did it because Afrihost are badass.

End. Van. Storie.

-ST

19
Mar
10

Holy Taco Friday

You guys are fucking cool.

You are my invisible friends, and you are fucking cool. No, no, don’t downplay it, be PROUD of that shit. If I say you’re fucking cool, then it’s gospel truth. Hallelujah brothers and sisters!

Let’s sing kumbaya.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, I don’t have too much so say on this beautiful Friday in Cape Town. Truth be told I’m counting the minutes until the long weekend lands.

What are your plans? I’m going to Pringle Bay to get sunburn! And drunk! It’s going to be flippin sweet 😉

So anyway, there’s this site called www.holytaco.com that is pretty damn incredible because it’s stacked FULL of hot mamasitas and so, because you guys are so fucking cool, the rest of this post is just going to be smoking hot pictures I’ve ‘borrowed’ from Holy Taco.

Women are beautiful creatures. Let’s celebrate that fact this long weekend, and on Monday, let’s send those pictures to SlickTiger.

Group hug.

 

 

 

 

 

Have a killer long weekend everyone! I’m going to try post, but there’s a better than average chance I’ll say fuck it and go lie on the beach instead.

Until next time 😉

-ST

29
Jan
10

Conversation With Beelzebub

A few weeks back I got up on my high horse and pranced around the place (one of my favourite pastimes) because the Chairlady of our Body Corporate is Satan.

 

 

You can read all about it in this post right here, but basically Beelzebub and her Minions Of Darkness were pissing on my battery because they issued this snotty letter telling us we weren’t allowed to use the pool in the complex without filling in this whole roster thing because someone kept pulling the creepy out the pool and leaving it in the sun to shrivel up and die.

I was really keen to take drastic action and fill the pool with cement and made a list of actions of all this crazy stuff and asked you, my friends, what you thought I should do.

“Kidnap the creepy!” you all shouted, pitchforks raised, “that’ll teach her! The power of Christ COMPELS you! The power of Christ COMPELS you!”

In the end I elected to do nothing though. Passive resistance is still resistance right? Yeah, I showed her.

Then on Wednesday we arrive home and the minute I drive into our complex, I notice that something is wrong, but I just can’t quite put my finger on it…

“Something is wrong…” I muttered to J-Rab as we drove in, “but… I just can’t quite-”

“Are you blind?”

“Eh?”

“Half the trees in the complex have been cut down!”

“Holy fucking hell! I think you just may be onto something there…”

“Wonderful. It looks like we live in Brixton now.”

 

 

What’s worse is the Syringa tree in our garden courtyard has been butchered by the chainsaw-wielding maniacs who pass as ‘landscape architects’ these days. All they left was the centre trunk, which means the neighbours across the courtyard now have a clear view directly into our bedroom and because of this there are now 3 videos of us on Redtube that I sure as hell didn’t put there!

Ok, maybe the one… but definitely NOT the other two!

And so, last night I came home after gym, showered, put on my best wife beater, crossed the River Styx and walked right into the jaws of hell.

It’s exactly like they describe it in this long and convoluted novel I read once called The Bibel (or something similar). It hones of sulphur, there are creepy demon-things everywhere with red leathery skin jabbing these wretched-looking motherfuckers with spears and pitchforks and flames! Fuck me running, there’s flames EVERYWHERE!

And there, sitting on a throne of skulls, was Beelzebub…

 

 

“Hullo,” I said.

“Hi. How are you?” she replied.

“I’m well and yourself?” I shot back, confident and ready to attack.

“I’ve been better actually. I’m not happy with the job the garden service did.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m here to give you a piece of my m- wait, what?”

“This garden service we hired, they cut back far too much in a lot of areas around the complex, but what can you do? We got three different quotes from garden services, the cheapest one coming in at R10,000 and for that amount of money, we told them to make sure that we aren’t going to have to call them back in six months time to do it all again, because we just can’t afford it. I’ve already had to raise the levy to cover the costs of hiring them, not to mention the costs of the creepy, which has been destroyed thanks to the kids in this complex, who go to the pool area unsupervised by their parents and run riot all over the place! I just don’t know. I’m leaving here soon so it won’t be my problem anymore, I’m tired of dealing with all the issues this place has. I’m tired of being the dragon.”

“Just back the fuck up there for a second, what is this bullshit?” (I didn’t actually say this, but let’s just go with it for the sake of making me badass. Remember, I WAS wearing a wife beater and I HAD just come from gym) “You’re not allowed to be human! You’re the evil lady who shits us out when we pack the flat like a sardine tin with all my buddies and proceed to drink our body weight with music blaring until the sun rises! Which reminds me, we’re having another party on Saturday, so yeah, um, can we use the pool area?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got the R250 you need for a deposit…”

“Oh, that’s more of a formality than anything else, just please leave the pool area like you found it.”

“No! You WILL take my R250!”

“Well, if you insist.”

“There!”

“Thank you.”

“Pleasure!”

“I won’t be here because I’m flying to London on Saturday night, but you can collect the deposit from iplqpo3is1n74m3 (don’t remember the dude’s name) at no. 19 on Sunday.”

Flying… to London… Saturday night… These words echoed like a death row pardon in my head.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking B1?

I sure as FUCK am B2!

Let’s get fucking wizasted!

RARRARAARARGHARARAGAHAHAAHGHGHGHHGHHH!

 

 

I stayed for another 15 minutes talking to ol’ Beelz and came away with a different point of view. In this life, you gotta give people their 15 minutes, I’m usually pretty good at this, but my encounter with Beelz last night reminded me that I do still slip up from time to time.

The woman lives by herself in that flat, she lost her husband a few years back. She told me he was a fit guy, kept himself in shape, exercised at least twice a week, played golf regularly, played squash every week, but he was diagnosed with cancer and 6 weeks later, he died.

So I’m writing this post to take back the shitty things I said about her and set the record straight. She’s not some demon, she’s not the devil incarnate, she’s just a lonely old woman who’s fed up with always having to be the bad guy.

Food for thought right there. C’mere. Hold my hand. Let’s sing Kum Ba Ya…

Tune in tomorrow for a rushed and largely incoherent post because tomorrow it’s FUCKING PARTAY TIME MUTHUFUKKAHS! In case you don’t already know, we’re blowing this grey and rainy city and heading down to Cape Town to start a new life, me and J-Rab, living on a wine farm and raising Cheetah Cubs, but more about that later 🙂

In the meantime you look after your sexy selves and have a killer weekend.

Your buddy ol’ pal

-ST