I'm pretty sure the weather is nice today. Beautiful, even. Somewhere in the back of my mind there are images of people lying in the sun, or perhaps splashing around in the water at a sun-soaked beach. I push these thoughts away as the bland walls of my work place come back into focus. I'm sitting on an uncomfortable stool at an annoyingly high desk with an archaic computer who's keyboard always jams when you hit the enter key and a mouse cord that isn't nearly long enough to use comfortably. Beside me is my co-worker dutifully preforming some menial task; receiving in stock or some such thing. I look at the tiny characters on the depressingly small monitor and try to remember what I'm supposed to do with them. It takes slightly longer than I'd like to admit. I need a coffee. As I begin to rise off my rattling stool the phone rings. I narrow my eyes at it before picking it up.
"Good morning, [company name], this is Dale."
"Hello David."
It's Dale you smarmy cunt. "It's Dale."
"Oh, sorry." She's not. "I got a [product] from you a few years ago and I have a problem with it."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's the problem?"
"Well I've been using it for years and even though it's doing exactly what it should be doing, and there is no product in the world that preforms as well as it did on it's first day, and even though I only spent the minimal amount of money on it at the time, I want it replaced because it has aged."
Sigh. "I'm sorry to hear you're no longer satisfied with your [product], ma'am. We can repair or replace faulty products if they're within their warranty period. Do you have your original invoice?"
"No, it was years ago! Can't you just look up my surname?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Jane Smith."
Fuck me. I type Smith into the computer come up with roughly four thousand Smith's. "Sorry ma'am, but the search wasn't successful. May I ask for the phone number that would have been on the invoice?"
"You want my phone number? What for?"
"To look up your account. There is a large number of Smith's in our system but nobody will have the same phone number."
"Oh, okay. I think it was my husbands number..." Several agonising seconds roll by before she finally remembers her husbands number. I type it in and find account Jane Smith, invoiced and archived in December of 2003. I put the phone on hold, hit print and wait for the old invoice to crawl painfully slowly out of the old printer. It finally finishes and I pick the phone back up.
"Okay ma'am, I see you purchased the [product name] in 2003-"
"Oh, it wasn't that long ago."
"Maybe I have the wrong account." I don't. "May I ask a few questions to make I have the right Jane Smith?" She agrees. I quote the phone number back to her, as well as her address and post code. Yep, right account. "It's dated December 7th, 2003."
"Oh, it doesn't feel that long ago..." Yeah, time moves quickly. Interesting. Can we get on with it?
"Anyway, let's try and sort this out. You purchased a product in 2003, were happy with it in the beginning but it's recently dropped in quality?"
"Well I was never really happy with it," then why did you buy it? "but recently it has become a real problem!"
"I see. Have you been using the provided care products?"
"No, one of the reasons I purchased the product was because it didn't need any upkeep."
"There is no such product, ma'am. All [product]'s need some kind of upkeep, even the most modern models."
"That's not what I was told!"
Groan. Uneducated customers are one thing; they don't know any better, but customers who have been misinformed by salespeople who will say anything to get a sale are difficult because they're victims as well as annoying. "I see. Okay, well let's fill in a customer service form. I'll send it to the manufacturer who will then inspect the product. If they find a manufacturing fault, they'll repair or replace it."
"Well the [product] is uncomfortable! Why do they have to inspect it? Can't you just send me a new one?"
"Sorry ma'am, but all products have to be inspected before they're replaced. It's their policy." I'm pretty sure it's the policy for every manufacturer ever, but I don't say so.
"Well that's just a waste of time!" She mumbles something incoherently under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an insult against my mother. "Fine, can they come today? I'm going out at 4pm so they'll have to come before then."
"I'm sorry ma'am but that's not how it works. I have to send this form to the manufacture who will then contact you directly and book a time to come out."
"Well when will that be!?"
"I can't answer that, ma'am, I don't make the bookings. They should call you within two working days."
"Two days! That's too long, I need a new [product] now! Can't you inspect it?"
"No ma'am, I don't work for the manufacturer." Nor do I feel like driving to Mordor.
"Well that just isn't good enough. Can I speak to the manager?"
"The manager isn't in today, ma'am."
She clucks her tongue reproachfully. "Typical. Where is he? Out having lunch at a pub?"
No, he's fucking your mother you insufferable bitch. "It's his rostered day off. I'm happy to help in-"
"Oh, just forget it! I'll be telling everyone not to shop at [company name] and I know a lot of people!"
Click.
Fine, go and die, bitch. I'm going to have a coffee.
