There’s a moment in The Trial when Josef K. realizes that the real nightmare isn’t the court itself—it’s the bureaucracy. Trenord took that insight and turned it into a user experience.
Last month, I had to travel from the BTO in Florence to Switzerland for another speaking engagement. The wonderful Sandra and Rebecca at the speaker desk kindly bought my ticket. All good? Like hell.
Because Trenord doesn’t actually send you the ticket. They send you a link to activate it. And that link only goes to the account of whoever purchased the ticket—not the person who’s actually supposed to board the train. Which is great, unless your Sandras and Rebeccas happen to be in a meeting or, heaven forbid, enjoying a well-earned Spritz.
So when I need the ticket, I can’t access it—and I’m forced to buy another one while I’m already on the train.
Fast forward to today. I need to be in Lugano tonight, so I decide to play it safe and activate the ticket in advance. I receive the QR code and take a screenshot. One less thing to worry about? Of course not.
When I arrive in Milan, I discover the ticket has expired.
Yes, because Trenord tickets are valid for six hours. Except for Switzerland-bound tickets, which last four. Why? Because reasons.
DURA LEX, SED TRENORD.
I call customer service: no human answers, but a robot confidently assures me that tickets are valid for six hours. Out of civic duty, I go to the ticket office anyway. The clerk informs me that this is my fault, because I should never have bought the ticket online.
Ticket expired at 6:32 PM.
My train departed at 6:43 PM.
So I buy everything again. Again.
The only kind human I encountered all day was a Trenord staff member who bluntly told me the only real solution is to buy tickets via Trainline. Which is like a hotel openly telling you to book through Booking.com.
So that’s that.
Trenord, you owe me €30.
Here’s my IBAN: IT74I0100503220000000006703
See you next week,
Simone
SIMONE PUORTO
