26th February 2007
Hi all,
I'm really not enjoying 2007 so far. There's part of me which wants to go out in Glasgow late at night and see if I can find someone who will pull a "Dirty Harry" and put me into a coma until 2008 arrives.
The latest instalment of "Arrgh!" moments this year came last Thursday, when I had to take a day off so that our washing machine and boiler could have repairs made to them. Now I don't like having to sacrifice my precious days off (I get 23 a year) for rotten things like this anyway, but when they stretch out, last all day and ultimately don't get things resolved, well that's even worse.
First in was a washing machine engineer. Local, prompt, polite, honest. Your ideal engineer. Except he was so honest that he said it would be cheaper for us to get the supplier to get someone to come out and fix the machine for us. He was also good enough to tell us that our brand of washing machine was dreadful, and was actually made by the same people who made our previous washing machine, but just had a different badge on it. Nice.
At almost the very second that the washing machine engineer left the boiler engineer called, saying he would be about twenty minutes. When your wife is at work and you're looking after a baby who's awake, climbing and active that isn't enough time to find a washing machine supplier's phone number. Before I knew it the boiler engineer was in.
After making the engineer a cup of tea I returned down the stairs and left him to his work. Personally I don't like people hovering over me while I work, so I tend to return the same courtesy to other people when they're working. He said the job would take an hour, possibly an hour and a half at most. This was at 11am.
Our boiler is about three and a half years old. I still remember the anxiety of the day it was fitted, with all the banging and clanging that went with it. I remember the anxiety because I experienced exactly the same thing while this engineer was working. Did I say I wouldn't hover over him? Some people don't make that easy. With each bang, grunt and shout of frustration that came from upstairs so my anxiety level rose.
I tried running through everything saved on our Sky+ box. NBA All-Star Game - boring. Lorraine's soaps - not interesting. 24 - pretty compelling, but not as interesting to me as the real-time drama taking place up the stairs.
Midday came and went. I made myself the pancakes I didn't feel like on Shrove Tuesday to take my mind off things (mmm... Chocolate and Banana pancakes... mmm). The hour-and-a-half point passed and still the banging continued. At 1pm we hit two hours, so I gave Chloe her lunch in the hope that it would help me pass the time without worrying. No luck, especially since the lack of hot water meant that I hadn't given Chloe her bath yet.
Finally at 3pm the engineer came down the stairs. After four hours and plenty of grumbling he said the job was finished. He hurried away and I went upstairs, ready to close the door to the cupboard in which the boiler sits. Small problem - right at that moment the boiler started spewing out water, far worse than the dribble the engineer was meant to fix. Great.
And so I had to get back on the phone to the engineer's employers and try and get someone back out again. As if I hadn't seen enough of him before it was the same engineer again. Cue more grumbling, banging and general frustration from him and more anxiety from me as this time I had left the door to the living room open, so I could hear every word from upstairs.
At about 4.15pm he was ready to go again, thankfully leaving everything in working order. Well, for the time being anyway. On the way out the engineer said that the boiler would need to be flushed out, told me the price and also that it would be guaranteed for life. Wunderbar. I'm not sure if he was talking about the boiler's life or my life, or if there's a right answer to that question.
So needless to say by the time Lorraine got home from work about fifteen minutes after that I was frazzled, stressed out and sick about having wasted a day off in which I'd enjoyed nothing and achieved nothing either.
This is probably the part of the story at which I should apologise to the cold callers who got short shrift from me throughout the day. They include:
1) The person who I shouted at to stop calling me.
2) The person who called me and immediately put me on hold. Now I realise that my burping down the phone at you was childish of me, but replying in like manner showed what a classy organisation you work for.
3) The countless people who have been on the receiving end of my new favourite anti-cold caller tactic - passing the phone onto my daughter. If it is any consolation to you I'm laughing about at you as much as she is.
Have a good week!
Tony
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