Boiling point

>> Tuesday, 11 August 2009

We're stuck at home waiting for the man from British Gas to arrive and service the boiler.

Stuck. At. Home.

Granted, it's a gloomy day, but do the people at the service centre think at all about the misery they're imposing when when they tell you that the engineer is going to arrive 'some time between 8am and 1pm'?

"Wonderful!" I always want to reply when they tell me this. "Fabulous! A whole 5 hours penned inside for the children in their summer holidays waiting for you guys not to turn up. And it's not as if I can put the washing machine or the dishwasher on because your guy may want to turn the water off when he gets here - if he gets here - so I can't even get the chores done. And let's not kid ourselves about this - he's going to be late. They always are, and that's assuming that he doesn't ignore the carefully given instructions on how to find us that I always provide because past experience has shown that without fail, he will go to a flat 200 meters away that he thinks is our address but isn't (curse the road labelling around here), ring the doorbell, and finding nobody home will go on to his next job. I will be sitting here watching the minutes tick away until around 11.30am when I will call to check that this hasn't happened. You will of course then tell me he's in transit, on his way, and it will only be when I phone an hour later that you'll say 'Oh, he called at 10.40am but you weren't home. Shall we reschedule for next week?' When, directions ignored for the second time, exactly the same thing will happen again..."

Of course I didn't say any of that when they made the appointment, and so we're waiting. As a result I'm here with the Boys whilst they make confetti out A4 (in the name of small motor skills building, what a good mother I am) and I adjudicate in the matter of who gets to use the 'good' scissors whilst doing my impression of a forensic scientist trying to get to the bottom of why exactly Boy #1 has bumped his head on the wall for the second time in 5 minutes.

After discounting the obvious explanation - that his brother was involved - it turns out that this is simply a spatial awareness problem. Which leads me on to the question of what exactly he was doing. And whilst we're at it, just out of interest, why would he do that for a second time after bumping his head doing the same thing first time round?

This last was greeted with a long-suffering sigh.

"BECAUSE, it's important that I climb up onto the top bunk to view how my new Ben 10 poster stuck to the back of the bedroom door looks from there, Mum."

Of course.


Laura C 11 August 2009 at 10:25  

Argh that's one of my pet hates!! Surely they can give you an appt time to come and look at your boiler!!

Mwa 11 August 2009 at 10:42  

I hope he's been and gone by now. Otherwise - breathe!

Insomniac Mummy 11 August 2009 at 12:17  

Feeling your pain! I hate, HATE, waiting in for deliveries/gas men etc. Drives me to distraction.

Hope he found you!

Lisa @ Boondock Ramblings 11 August 2009 at 12:23  

I hate hate hate waiting for the repair man. So they do that everywhere then? I thought it was just in this country! At least you had some time to do ... other things. :-)

The Green Stone Woman 11 August 2009 at 12:52  

The appointment people are pretty good and show up when they say they will and are usually here before I get a chance to get anxious. The delivery people are way too evasive and come when they will and not until I've waited long enough and I can't walk the poor dog all that time. I like the appointment people, for some reason they have their pride on the line and make it a matter of honor to be there on time. I offer them a cup of coffee.

Iota 11 August 2009 at 13:54  

Ah, fine motor skills. Soon they'll be servicing your boiler for you, instead of you having to wait in for someone to come and do it.

nappy valley girl 11 August 2009 at 17:42  

It's unforgiveable, really, in this day and age when everyone has a mobile - surely they could just call you when they are half and hour away? It's just laziness, and poor customer service.

I waited in a few weeks ago for a sofa to be delivered....only to find that it didn't fit through the door of the house. Now THAT was infuriating.

Potty Mummy 11 August 2009 at 20:47  

LC, thanks for commenting and yes, you would think so, wouldn't you? But no.

Mwa - at the time you left the comment - not. There was not much breathing going on by the time he did get there, I can tell you!

IM, he did find us - eventually.

Lisa, no, not just the USA at all. Apparantly Switzerland is better, a friend told me. Fat lot of good THAT is to me in London, though.

Irene, no, they are all rubbish here; delivery or appointments. And I didn't offer coffee, I have to say - I was too wound up.

Iota, that's it; 'fine' motor skills. Knew I had it wrong!

NVG, yes, and that is exactly what they're supposed to do. They don't of course. And the sofa? Oh, I have a story about a sofa... (must write a post on it some day!)

Nicola 12 August 2009 at 02:46  

Oh dear. I can just imagine you sitting there knowing, just KNOWING, that they are going to get lost. Just like my cabbie. Even with a map. Oh the confidence they exhibit, until they get it wrong. I sincerely hope that they got there in the end.

And btw - Captain Underpants has gone Ben 10 barmy. God - why couldn't he have been a girl who became obsessed with something that I can understand? Horses for example. Horses I could have a shot at. Ben 10? Not a hope in hell.

Mummy McTavish 13 August 2009 at 01:03  

Oh boy. I just let my kids "chat" to them while they are here... I figure that's pretty good punishment for what I've had to endure waiting for them to turn up.

clareybabble 15 August 2009 at 00:32  

BG have done that to me before. I was in the whole day and they said he'd knocked on the door and we weren't in.
But at least the children got to work on their fine motor skills ;)

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