It has happened again, as it has happened so many times
in the past to us.
Once again, a Service Engineer / Repair Operative has not
turned up on the day expected; there is always a reason but it is still galling
for us, and you, when you are on the receiving end. And everything has to be re-booked.
The first time this happened was shortly after we were
married. We were living on the top floor
of a three-storey block and had ordered a new washing machine. I stayed in especially for the delivery. The driver’s mate announced their arrival on
the intercom and said they would be up shortly.
Lo and behold, only minutes later I was called with the message that the
machine was broken when it was unpacked and they would have to take it back and
order another. Hmm, now was it really
damaged or did they look at the stairs and decide they did not fancy carting
our new pride and joy up three flights?
We shall never know, but I can guess – and the waiting time came out of
my annual leave.
Numerous incidents happened (and are still happening)
over the years; and I am now retired.
Earlier this year, our current washing machine broke down
and I made arrangements for a Service Engineer to come and (hopefully) fix
it. The manufacturers (B****) set the date
and said the engineer would be with us between 7 am and 5 pm and would ring us
shortly before arrival so we could put the kettle on. It took a couple of such visits to ascertain
what exactly needed replacing – and this had to be ordered in, nothing being
kept in stock these days.
So far, so good, the telephone call came a few days later
and they suggested the next Friday; great, I then wrote “B**** 7 am to 5 pm
Washer repair” against Friday’s date on the calendar. On the Friday, I waited and, eventually, at a
quarter to five, I rang them up to be told “No, it’s not today, your repair is scheduled
for Saturday”.
There was nothing I could do, the repair was completed
eventually and the washer is now fine but, like you, I know the difference
between “Friday” and “Saturday”. I might
be retired but having two days kiboshed instead of one is very difficult.
The latest incident happened last weekend. We need to have my wife’s room re-decorated,
I got a quotation from a decorator who said that the room would need to be
cleared for him to do the work. I rang a
handyman, because my wife’s bed is electrically adjustable (the head and feet
ends can both be raised or lowered by an internal motor), he said that he
cannot touch disabled items and we need to get a specialist in to move it. I rang the mobility company from whom we bought
our wheel-chair and who service it each year.
They said that they can move the bed, this should only be done by
trained personnel and to let them know when the painting is to start. Modified rapture indeed. When we reached the top of the decorator’s
diary, he rang us and set a date for Monday the following week, I then arranged
with the mobility company to come on the preceding Friday in the afternoon.
Come Friday – nothing.
A call to the engineer who said it should not have been booked in today
and after a bit of toing and froing said he would come on Saturday between
mid-day and 2 pm. At a quarter to two on
the Saturday, I rang his mobile number, now on answerphone, and left a message
asking when he anticipated arriving. Nothing
happened - nobody came.
I must admit I was feeling a bit shaky by then and so a
cup of tea settled the nerves somewhat.
Suitably refreshed I examined the bed properly, took the
mattress off, had a good look at the frame and the base unit, came to the
conclusion that you did not have to be especially trained or qualified to move
the bed and went to see my brilliant neighbour, Martin, who said he would help
me move the bed on Sunday afternoon.
There were three separate units to move:
The mattress – easy, lift and carry into the next room;
The drive unit and adjustable support slats – also easy
as this was mounted on a rectangular wooden frame which we lifted out (like a
stretcher) and carried into the next room.
The base unit and headboard – too big to move through the
door, so we had to remove the headboard.
This should have been easy but, unbeknownst to us, the
installer who had assembled the bed had botched the job. The first three of the four bolts securing
the headboard panel came out smooth as silk but the final one’s threads had
been mangled in the securing nut which was embedded in the chipboard and could
not be moved. After a considerable
amount of effort we realised that the only way to remove the bolt was to saw its
head off. Once that was done, it was a
matter of minutes before we got all the parts into the next room, re-assembled
the bed, tested it and checked that it was working properly again.
It took round about ninety minutes, it should have taken
thirty minutes and I am incredibly grateful to Martin without whom I would have
been completely and utterly lost.
Come Monday morning, the telephone rings at a quarter to
eight – it is the decorator, he has a terrible cold, cannot manage today and
will be in on Wednesday …
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