Service With A Simile

Robert
Treborlang
Australia

Service With A Simile
Say the word "servizio" to Italians and they will probably visualise a waiter with six plates of food piled on each arm racing between rows of noisy customers. Service to most Chinese means a seven-course meal prepared by the time they have taken their places at a table set for twelve. To Americans, service means a twenty-five storey hotel rising out of the Kalahari desert that offers customers ten different varieties of freshly-made hamburgers at three in the morning.

  Say "service" to Australians and most will think of John Newcombe in a Wimbledon final, or a grease and oil-change for the family car, or the Armed Forces, or a long and tedious church wedding.

  Australians, on the whole, are a rugged and Spartan race and do not associate the word 'service' with the comforts of life. On the contrary, the very concept is perceived in a very different light.

  To begin with everyone is prepared to crawl for service. "I hate to disturb you and I know it's 12.30 and probably your lunch-break but do you think I could possibly have a look at the menu?"

  For service from trades people, most Australians consult reputable astrologer or numerologist to see if they will manage to turn up. Certainly booking their time, telling them it's urgent or offering more money as you would in other countries doesn't work.

  Being so democratically-minded no one actually dares to imagine even that two people with equal rights before nature and the law could possibly engage of their own free will in something as humiliating as 'service'.

  But since the basic necessities of life, such as the smashed rear lights of a car, must be eventually replaced, people have learnt to accept stoically the horrifyingly humbling process endured on those occasions when they need the services of another fellow democratic-minded Australian.

  First they try to get through on the phone three or four times hoping secretly that the spare part place has perhaps burnt down. Finally a voice answers. "Ah yes! I'll get someone else who knows all about rear lights."

  They hang on for five minutes. A new person picks up the phone. "Yes?" The apologetic Aussies make their request all over again.
  "Wait while I see. I'll have a look."

  Ten minutes later:
  "Did you say it was an '90 or an '95 model?"
  "'93."
  "Wait a minute."

  Shuffle of feet as the person goes off to inspect the stock again. More slow shuffling as the person comes back and picks up the phone.
  "There's only an '94 model. I'll have to check when they changed the design."

  After another interval the right piece turns up after all. It's agreed that the item will be put aside to be picked up as soon as possible.

  You get there. It's not waiting.
  "Excuse me."
  "Hang on. I'm serving someone."
  "But there's no one here."
  "They've gone to the car to check on a part."
  "It's just that I'm in a bit of a..."
  "Steady on, I've only got one pair of hands. "
  "So have I but... "
  "Look, mate, this is not a... " And without finishing the sentence the person behind the counter disappears through a doorway you could swear was not there before.

  Rule One: Never let people sense that you want something in a hurry. Should Australians get the scent that you're desperate for something, in a hurry or at all keen then things will slow down to a crawl.

  Fifteen to twenty minutes later the person reappears.
  "There's no more parts. We're out."
  "But someone told me they put one aside for me."
  "Don't know anything about that."
  "I was told it'll be on the counter."
  "Not here."

  You may insist as much as you like but no one is willing to search for anything. Finally an employee turns up whose voice is strangely familiar. Hope springs eternal.
  "I am the person who phoned you earlier... I'm sorry, I thought you would remember... You said... I mean... Have you the part?"
  "Yeah. Yeah. Just let me get organised."

  Rule Two: Because Australians are a proud and independent people it's best to give an order then quickly turn aside so that they have a chance to carry out your request without feeling servile.

  Some considerable time later the employee comes back and tackles the indifferent colleague.
  "Where's that thing?"
  "What?"
  "Where did you put that part I put over here?"
  "What part?"

  The fight lasts anything up to ten minutes.
  "What are you talking about?"
  "I had it wrapped in a piece of paper."
  "Oh that! It's over there. I thought it was your lunch."

  Now to the price.
  "I'll have to look it up."

  Following a hefty wait a figure is finally established.
  "There's also sales tax."
  "How much?"
  "Let me check."

  Another wait.
  "What's holding it up now?"
  "We're changing computer systems."

  Docket in hand at long last, over at the cashier.
  "Geez," says the cashier, "you're lucky. We're just about to close."

Copyright © 1991-2002 - Robert Treborlang

Robert
Treborlang
Australia

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