My Kafkaesque clash with TfL

Spectator

4 days ago

When is a journey not a journey? The answer to this pseudo-Zen riddle, at least according to Sadiq Khan's Transport for London, is: when the journey is one that the passenger intends to make but is unable to complete.
Have I lost you? Allow me to explain. Recently I experienced yet again one of the regular service failures that haunt the London Underground generally, and its dire Circle line in particular. This saw me forced to abort my train journey at Notting Hill Gate to make the final leg of my intended trip to High Street Kensington on foot. Admittedly this can be a quite pleasant stroll, passing, as it does, the spectacular wisteria on Bedford Gardens, and the lovely Churchill Arms. But on the day in question the wisteria had yet to bloom, it was too early for the pub, it was raining, and I was late, meaning that the absence of any Circle line trains was rather a nuisance. So, on principle, I wanted my money back.
The scenario would seem at first glance an open-and-shut case for a refund. TfL rules state that passengers are entitled to one if their journey is delayed by at least 15 minutes, and mine had been. TfL's online-only refund application system, however, is configured so that you can only claim for a refund based on the journey that your payment history shows you made. In this case the system recorded that I had gone from Arnos Grove to Notting Hill Gate in a reasonable time. The fact that I had been attempting to get to High Street Kensington was therefore not factored in, so my initial application was automatically rejected. Still, I was confident that by appealing to a real person and explaining what had happened, I would get my fare back.
But the TfL 'case officer' assigned to me wasn't having it. He rejected my appeal, explaining, oddly, with his own imagined example. 'A service delay is a delay on the service you have taken,' he wrote. 'If you went from Liverpool Street Station to Stratford Station but wanted to go further, the system will only look at the journey you had made, not a journey you wanted to make. Thanks again for contacting us.'
In a series of subsequent emails TfL continued to justify this rejection, arguing – I summarise – that were they to cave in to people like me and start offering refunds willy-nilly on the basis of aspirational rather than real travel they'd be laying themselves open to abuse by scammers. This seems a bit of a stretch. True, TfL is ripped off to the tune of tens of thousands of pounds every day. As James Hanson noted earlier this year, fare-dodging on the Underground is rife. But I suspect the vast majority of TfL's plague of criminals tend not to buy a ticket at all rather than opportunistically enter into prolonged email correspondence in order to negotiate a refund they aren't entitled to.
TfL has claimed to be cracking down on fare dodging. An Evening Standard story this year cited the use of 'up to 500 enforcement officers' on the network. I must say I found this figure surprising. I see people tailgating (squeezing through the barrier behind a customer with a ticket) pretty much every day but have not seen anyone from TfL intercept someone doing this in 20 years. And I can't recall the last time I spotted any general ticket inspections on trains – whereas these were routine in the 1980s and 1990s.
In fact the sole moment of hardline authorities-to-passenger interface I have witnessed on the Tube at all this decade came at the height of Covid, when a uniformed police officer screamed menacingly at a young woman because her face mask wasn't fully covering her nose – 'Put your mask on properly!' – even though I was the only other passenger in the carriage and sitting some distance away and unbothered. But I digress.
I typically use the Tube more days than I don't. This is dispiriting for a number of reasons. There are the constant pointless but intrusive platform Tannoy announcements, my favourite being warnings about a ban on carrying 'all e-scooters and e-unicycles' despite the fact that I have never knowingly seen anyone ride an e-unicycle, let alone carry one on the Underground. Meanwhile the service-related announcements that you do need to hear while in transit (as they can devastate your travel plans) are often, because of train noise and feeble speakers, completely inaudible. Then there's the frequent abrupt braking on the Central line that knocks standing passengers over like skittles; the infuriating euphemism 'evening out of gaps in the service' to explain abrupt delays; and the ever-increasing number of fellow passengers watching TikTok videos with the audio on without headphones.
And, as if none of these irritations existed, TfL is forever emailing me cheery generic marketing material in this vein: 'Hello John. Feeling part of a community can do wonders for your wellbeing. Now's a great time to head to local events and cultural spots, many just a TfL journey away.'
But TfL's refund system is the icing on the horrendous cake, its uselessness exacerbated by the fact that for months last year it wasn't operating at all. This was because TfL had been subject to a hacking attack and locked travellers out of their online accounts while it was resolved – so you couldn't get refunds for any journey, either aspirational or actual. It must have saved them thousands.
When I put my journalist hat on and queried TfL's stance over my refund, their statement came back: 'Our online refund system is designed to help process claims quickly, but has various protections to ensure that customers can only receive a refund when they are genuinely due one.' I think they mean that they will say no unless you really whine. But I did whine – and in the end I won my argument. This was on the basis that my journey history showed I had travelled to High Street Kensington many more times than to Notting Hill Gate, giving credibility to my account that I had indeed intended to go there when I set out.
After several weeks of back and forth I finally got my refund: £4.60. I'm planning to spend the money on future travel, if I can.