Aggravations in Any Language

One night last week I walked into the master bathroom to find water pouring from the light fixture above. "That can't be good," I thought.

Turns out the water heater was busted. Fortunately, when you live in a serviced apartment, you simply place a call to guest services, and it is replaced within 24 hours. 

Of greater concern is what this event portends. 

You may recall Pat's water heater experience in Paris in the winter of 2000. He had been interviewing at universities across the U.S. for two and a half weeks; I had arranged to meet him at the airport and fly back with him for a visit. We returned to his apartment to find a notice from the fire department taped to the front door. Inside, the windows had been broken and the electricity was shut off since les pompiers had to break in to turn off the water. (Why no one had figured out how to contact the landlady in that time is a mystery.) The burst water heater had flooded everyone below, forcing the restaurant on the ground floor to close and exploding a large box of couscous in the apartment of Pat's dreadlocked jazz singer neighbor, known for distilling his own gin.

You may also recall our leaks from ice damage in Boston the week before our departure. It seems we have no luck with water.

I had less luck with online grocery shopping. Cold Storage offers a service much like Peapod at home. Since grocery shopping with two kids in a stroller isn't always (ever) enjoyable, I thought I'd give it a try. Even though I checked the box that said, make no substitutions and do not call me, I got a call the next day to inform me which items (about half) were not available. I agreed to some substitutions and awaited my groceries the following evening.

When they arrived in the latter part of the three-hour window, I was annoyed to see on the invoice that they substituted the items I had asked them to omit but not the ones I had requested. Stupid me did not check the actual items but waited until the delivery man left to unpack the box. In fact, they got (most of) the physical items correct, but not the bill, which meant they overcharged me by ~$20.

For some reason, it took four phone calls the next day to straighten the whole thing out. The interesting part of the exchange was the polite--deferential, even--tone that the customer service agent always maintained, despite my exasperation as she explained the impossibility of my requests (exchange the proper items, refund my money). Pat, who has had more experience with administration and bureaucracy here, explains it like this: They'll basically say to you, "We'll f*** you up the a** and charge you extra; thank you, and have a good day," but they'll say it in such a nice way that you'll say thank you right back and even ask for a receipt.

I'll be schlepping the groceries along with the kids from now on.