Topping up on Christmas Day

This morning I received a text from my elder girl, a crie de couer, if you will, from the slopes of the Alps, where she is currently skiing with her sister and father.

This is the longest time my girls have spent away from me since they were born, and I was prepared to be absolutely miserable, missing them with a passion akin to that of Romeo and Juliet! However, I've had no chance to miss them, as they've both texted me frequently throughout the holiday. In the first two days alone, I received 17 texts from them. I say "them", but the texts were, in fact, from Lottie, who seems to have the necessary ability. Lizzy confessed on the phone last night that she doesn't really know how to text, as the predictive text confuses her. I think it's rather sweet that she doesn't yet know this arcane art.

This mornings texts were full of cheer, as my girls delved through their stockings (yes, I sent them with stockings!) and told me how much they were enjoying their presents. And then came the request. "Can u top me up please? Im running out of credit". Ah, the joys of the English language, in all it's many forms...

Returning to the point, after an abortive attempt to top up online, I decided to go to a local cashpoint machine and top up from there. Within the last year or so I've started noticing that this option is now available at many cashpoint machines. What a boon to the traveller who has insufficient credit to actually perform the top up from their place of vacation. As, indeed, I found it last year, when I sent out similar text requests to various friends and family to try to find a way of topping me up.

I pushed my card into the machine, Lottie's number at the ready, and the machine swallowed my card. After not so much as a gentle burp, the next victim was exhorted to "Please insert your card." It would appear that my luck this morning seems to be all bad. Perhaps I would be better going back to bed and waiting for Boxing Day? Perhaps not. I will thank technology for the wondrous invention of the mobile phone. I called my bank, while standing at the offending machine, and immediately spun my tale of woe. The card is cancelled, a new one winging it's way to me. Well, perhaps winging is not the right word. The voice to whom I spoke warned that they usually expect replacement cards to arrive within 7 days, but this is 7 working days... I suspect I'll see my new card next year, at that rate.

The point of this blog, though, is to question why on earth is SO DAMN DIFFICULT to top up someone else's phone. To do it through the vodafone web site, you have to register your debit/credit card against the phone. Which is all fine and dandy if it's your own phone, because they insist on sending the phone a code, which you have to type into the registration process to prove the phone is yours. Not only is the phone not mine, it's not ruddy well here. Why do they need to do that?

I can understand having your card registered, because there's the whole "you might have stolen that card" issue. This is fine, but I have no idea if I've got an account with Vodafone, and there's still the whole code-sent-to-the-phone issue mentioned above. I remember registering my debit card with the phone when we put in the new sim card, but, again, can I stress how the phone is not with me, it's in France. I can buy an e-voucher, but Lottie has to phone 2345 and type in the 12-digit number. Which means I have to text it to her (or Lizzy or her dad) and make sure I put the right number in.

What about Paypal, I hear you cry. You'd have thought Paypal, with it's registering of cards, would be willing to make topping up phones a bit easier. You'd be wrong there. I have googled until my fingers have blisters, but I can find no way to top up the damn phone from here without having a whole new account with vodafone, or going to a cashpoint machine. You can understand my reluctance to shove my remaining card into the next cashpoint machine, worrying that I'll have no way to support myself until the New Year brings my replacement card.