I had a bad day…. (eu to que to…)

  1. You know the kind of day, everything goes wrong, you burn yourself in the stove, cut with everything you touch, keep tryping over…. I kind of had that yesterday, so, to avoid mayor accidents, I decided to stay in bed today, especially as I had the delivery (and connection) of my oh so long awaited dishwasher.

I had done a very intense and thorough research before I actually bought it, given that I have had disapointments before when buying online or over the phone, and that I have been saving for this for a long time. One particular thing to take into account when buying appliances that need plumbing: most companies wont connect unless the water supply/drainage is at or within a metre from where the appliance will go. With a kitchen the size of ours, one would think it wouldnt be a problem…but it actually worked out 1.47m.

I spent an enourmous amount of money on the phone (as almost all the retailers have an 0870 number, answer phones and you are placed in a queue, I'm sure you know the score), but was reasured by 7 (seven- sete-siete-sept) people at Comet that they would, indeed, connect, no matter how far it was. So much that the girl who dealt with the actual purchase even sold me the extra bit of hose and joints. Four (4) of these people I have spoken to worked in the department which you get on the option for anything related to delivery, please press two , so I was staisfied. The price for delivery and connection seemed fair, and I choose to have an all day delivery.

I had another ordeal yesterday coz of the booking for Kids Week, the week in London when the Offical London Theatre people give a free kid seat for each adult paying, it usually opens the lines in the end of July, and it has been the most amazing thing we have found with Sarita, given that they have special booking lines for people with mobility problems, we get good seats, but this time, though I got the info on the post, it said we were to buy the Evening Standart (popular newspaper) to see about priority bookings, on the 17th……. so I went after lunch to buy it…it's the Evening Standart…right? one would suppose iot comes out in the afternoon or evening?…… well, nope.

By the time I got it and gave the phone line which actually gave you a day before (yesterday) priority bookings, the line had been on for over 90 minutes…..what the hell, I thought, and called on my mobile. The credit run out before they even got to my place on the queue (I listened to lots of musical songs though, at something like 20p a minute). I decided to go to a phone box, (what the hell again) I put £1 coin, and listened to (the same) music again. I only had £2, but when the credit read 6p (almost running out) they pick up….. oh great, I thought, and put my other pound in.

I ask for seats for Wicked, for any day, at any time, and warn the girl that I had mobility problems, so preferable seats in which we wouldn't have to go up or down the stairs (not all theatres have the stalls on ground floor, you would be surprised), to which she says, in a voice of whom is awfully fed up with her job: You gotta call the Special Needs line!!!   and puts the phone down. Yup. No Would you like to take a note of the number, Madam? or Would you like me to put you through? Nope. Silence. Nothing. I had 94 pence credit in the phone box and none to call….I wanted to cry, but was in a phone box in Camden High St, even a careless, emotional latina like me has her limits.

There is a long story after that and me getting tickets for Billy Elliot, like we ended up at Betty's house and my card was refused (the deposit I did hours before still didnt registered, go trust the bloody Post Office), but I was writing about today, which was 1000 more awfull than yesterday.

So, as I was saying, decided to stay in bed untill the Comet people called me to let me know they were on their way, reading Nicci French, when I suddenly remembered about the card refusal and the promise of this lady to hold the tickets till today at 17:00hs….. that was done, not without little annoying events in between, but done.

Comet people call. Comet people arrive. Comet people take the appliance off the wheelie thing (though it would've perfectly fit through my kitchen door). Comet people scratch (viciously) all my kitchen floor. Comet people look under the sink. Comet people hand me a paper to sign. Comet people tell me they wont be connecting the appliance as there is no outlet for another appliance under the sink.

I told them. 7 people. On the phone. I explained to them, craefull, thoroughly, that

  1. I had never had a dishwasher before, nor did the previous flat owner
  2. the only plumbed appliance in the kitchen is my washing machine
  3. the appliance would be 1.47m from the water supply/drainage
  4. I am disabled and alone with my 11 years old daughter

Well, obviously nobody cared, as long as they could make the sale. I broke down into tears with these two guys here, and they go: It s not the end of the world, you only have to get a plumber…..!!!!  but see, I had already looked into it, and the cheapest quote was a £75 per hour. The one who quote me £50, you wouldnt let him even change a light bulb.

They made some call on one of them's mobile. The guy is desperate for me to sign the form. I sit and write, next to my signature, the problem. The guy comes back to me: you gotta sing here too


he wanted me to sign next to Property undamaged.  I, of course, wrote: Kitchen floor badly scratched.

he tells me he called the depot, and that they would be calling me tomorrow to arrange a plumber. What about if they dont, I say. Call this number then, he says. The customer service team. The guy on that number said,after me crying an intense explanation, that the only thing he could do was offer an apology, and gave me another number. On this other number (I think he was Indian, poor soul, the only one who had pity on me) this guy spent over half an hour trying to sort what I could do. But that was the problem, you see, I cannot do anything. The guy couldnt beilieve I had not one male friend that could help me…  I could have told him that I could call any of the dykes I know, but it would make no difference. Nobody, males or females, does anything for us anymore.

People loved us when I was …errmm….what would the word be? functional? part of society? mobile? employed? had dignity?…….. I dont know. But I know I had thousands of people in and outy of my flat, in my car, getting lifts to the clubs or markets, or workshops, thousands of people coming to stay over, the whole of Great Britain invinting us around. Not anymore. People dont even call. And I couldnt find a plumber.

My face hurts, so much I cried. I feel like someone punched me for hours. I cant stop crying

When I came over earlier on, I tried to write, nothing would come out, though I knew what I wanted to write. I took the opportunity to have a look at all my neighbors blogs, and (thankkfully!!!!) though I dont know any of the people here in Vox personally, some posts made me feel a lot better for a while,some, like in the Goddess or the Sweet, sweet Misery …. even got a laughter sounding through my place…but, but… (there's allways a but)

  I know *Nobody Cares What You Had For Breakfast* , like prolly nobody cares what happens with my dishwasher delivery (or connection). I also know I allways, in the end, one way or another, get things done. But thing is, you see, I am tired. Hugely tired of making an effort in an unfair society. I'm even tired of hearing people tell me Oh, you are a strong woman, you ll get there….  I m tired. And hurting. And I have a child entering her teens, when we most need our mums, when we less get on with our mums…. I'm sure I will get there, one way or another. But still, I'm tired.

I had a bad day.





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About thelatinmrspeel

in the process of moving blogs, so more will come later
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