Praise Be

My washing machine is being fixed by the ever efficient Paulraj as I type. Praise be.

I called the distributor this morning and spoke to… Let’s call him X. X is the same person I spoke to yesterday and who assured me that parts were in stock and that someone would call me this morning between 8 and 9 to arrange a time to come over today. When I called X at 0915 he first pretended to have no idea who I was and then claimed that there were no spare parts. He kept referring to me, bizarrely, as Mr Persil – at least that had something to do with washing machines.

Suffice it to say that the telephonic equivalent of a nuclear bomb was immediately launched. Several phone calls later – each time he said he’d call me in five minutes, I called him back on the dot of six minutes – some progress had been made. He then told me that there were no spare parts. Bombardment recommenced. Paulraj is now here fixing fixing.

Poor Paulraj was clearly terrified when he arrived, at pains to make it clear that all these problems were not his fault. They obviously weren’t and I did my best to reassure him.

I don’t understand how people like X can live their lives this way. Permanently disorganised, lying to customers, rushing around, doubtless constantly getting shouted at.

I also don’t understand why companies employ people like X. Surely every dirham saved on his salary represent thousands of dirhams lost on sales and general goodwill. The same goes for the vendors who choose distributors like this.

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