The Hair-dryer agony…..

If you have never been stuck thickly enough to have to call one of the help center numbers most of your appliances come with you probably won’t get the drift of what I am trying to say here. See, like most of you reading this I am not one of those who spend hours on the phone trying to reach the manufacturing company just to know how to turn the coffee-maker on. As a rule I choose not to call up strange individuals who are no more than a sound over the receiver to me. The only time I called a radio show is when I was dying with typhoid and got stuck at home for over a month.

But that’s not the point here.

Last week when I bought the hair dryer I was sure I needed it. So, I jumped up at the first opportunity and got it, despite the cynicism of friends and family, who expressed unfounded concern over its inexpensiveness (apparently it’s a crime to be cheap nowadays! Sheesh, how do the Aguileras survive in this market?). It functioned alright for the first week. Every morning I’d bathe and step out bright and shiny in the sunshine, all with uncharacteristically dried and well-set hair. When I walked into class in the morning I’d see heads turn…in unison…in slow motion, and then hints of surprise…heads would bob close to each other and whisper in haphazard speed.. whispers of admiration. Finally, I knew how the girl in the shampoo ad felt.

That’s when I knew it wouldn’t last.
And it didn’t.

Not long after the rapunzel’esque dream began, the hair dryer performed hara-kiri. As a last rite it took a chunk of my hair with it. When the fire from the bloody thing had burnt out I looked in, longingly, at the scorched remains of my strands within it. As the pain subsided anger seethed. Given that the damned thing had decided to go phut while being well within the warranty period I decided to give the good ol’ company a call and give a mouthful.

Accordingly I made the call and was put on hold “Our agent will be with you shortly” said a plastic voice dripping with accent. I waited. Soon the saccharine voice returned “Unfortunately the agent will be able to answer your call only after a few minutes…we regret the inconvenience”. I sat myself down in the kitchen I would not retreat from the battle-field at any cost. The music looped on. Mozart had never sounded drearier. In next to no time I was munching a carrot. Mozart was now out. Yet another saccharine voice, a man this time, was teaching me everything about accessing the company website. The woman had made brief appearances to inform me that the call would be answered “soon”. I, gullible, faithful, smiled to myself and said “oh! Now” and rehearsed my angry speech again and again.
When the call stretched to an hour I grew concerned. But when the single hour became a couple I gritted my teeth, honored my promise and did not hang up. This war I would fight and win I told myself with vehemence.

I carried the phone to the bathroom, the dining plate, the bed, balcony, car…and everywhere in between. Meanwhile a lot had happened. For starters my anger had meandered into stubbornness, desperation, resignation and finally a strange academic curiosity. At some point a ‘real’ young woman had appeared on the line. She asked me my name and reason for calling a few times and said ‘Thank You’ in an annoying monotone after every sentence. The woman was a cartridge of questions “Are you married miss?” “Are you a single child?” “Is your father living?” “Do you have an insurance policy?” I was reeling under the sudden firing. Soon I had lost track of what I had called about. What would she ask me next, I was wondering, searching around for my birth certificate and other such details. But it was all a false alarm. After an intimate 15 minute long question answer session, the candy voiced woman still dripped treacle like “Much as I would like to help you madam I am currently unable to, thus I am redirecting you to the service center”. And before I could speak again the resolute reassurance of the human voice was gone and the mechanical “Twang-Twang” music was back. I was left open-mouthed, fish like, gulping air in a rather unsavory manner.

That was about 46 hours ago. The phone is now on speaker. The sweet mechanical voiced woman has promised me that the call will be answered in 5 minutes. I am still trusting, thus I wait, uncomplainingly, eagerly. Soon.