Want to get bamboozled? Dial a helpline

Am sure we all have at some point in time, tried calling a ‘helpline’.  It usually starts with press 1 for English, press 2 for Hindi…….. So, being proud of our national language, we middle class Indians obviously press 1. Another ten minutes of pressing this and pressing that ultimately gets us Anita/Prakriti/Surya on the phone who quite ignoring our ‘pressed 1’ tells us in chaste incomprehensible Hindi how important our call is. When apprised of the problem being faced, one can sense their contrition, even over the electromagnetic waves, at the inconvenience caused to an esteemed client.  In the end however, they all revel in ruining your sanity. Courteously of course.

I have three DTH TV connections at home and recently had to change one of the set top boxes. The service engineer told me that he had forgotten to get the remote with him and would deliver the same the early next day. So, here I was early next morn, waiting expectantly for the doorbell’s chime. Nothing. The day after – nothing. The month after – nothing. I gave the guy a call two or three times and I got the ‘extremely sorry Sir, tomorrow’ answer. Six months passed. To be frank, I too did not chase up the issue as I still had three remotes for the three TVs and hence wasn’t really overly discomfited. Till one day when the remote for my parents TV conked off.

Now, the TV is what my parents live for. So a reminder three times a day  for the next three days forced me to call the ‘helpline’. I explained to Anita how they hadn’t given me a new remote even six months after changing the set up box. I was proud of myself – I was brief, to the point, suitably curt at their laxity and yet gracious. Anita was appropriately, well…. contrite.  She emphasised that she was really sorry for the inconvenience (asuvidha ke liye kshama chahoongi), that I am a valuable customer, and assured me that I would get a call from the service engineer by the end of the day.

On the whole, I credit myself for having handled the issue well. So, I sat, full of nervous expectation, but yes you guessed it – no call, no remote. Now I’m a patient man and thought, maybe tomorrow.  Spent the night dreaming about a spanking new remote, me presenting it to my parents, they lovingly pressing the buttons etc.  Woke up all full of nervous anticipation for the day ahead, but, other than yet another reminder from the parents – nothing.

Lodged another complaint. No, not with Anita, cause you never get the same person on the phone again, but Prakriti.  She expressed surprise that my issue had not been addressed, was contrite, reassured me about my importance, told me she put my service request on priority and matter would be resolved within 24 hours.  I reported the same to my parents, who by now were giving those ‘children are so ungrateful looks’, convinced as they were that getting them a remote was my sole duty in life.

I got a call after 48 hours… “Sir, aapka service request ka kaam ho gaya kya?”. I said “No”. As you can see, brevity being the soul of clarity or something, I was brief and to the point. No ambiguity in my response whatsoever. This brevity for some reason however, got Poonam confused.  Poonam repeated the question and to which I repeated my answer – “No”. She rephrased – “Kya koi service engineer aaya tha?”. Me, “No”. Poonam, not one to accept my unequivocal answer again asked me – “Did any one contact me”. Me – “No”. There was silence on the line for about 15 sec where I imagine Poonam was trying to digest this wholly unexpected answer. She said she would check and call back, which of course she never did.

But I did get a call from one Yadav who asked me what the problem with the set top box was. I tried to explain, as one would to a child, that there was nothing wrong with the set top box but rather the remote that they owed me had not been delivered for six months. He told me he would revert, but yes, by now I needn’t tell you that he didn’t.

Instead got a call from Surya the next day, asking what the problem with the remote was.  Now you will pardon me for saying that I took off like a rocket. You see I had got home the previous evening and had to endure my parents faces yet again– full of expectation that I would somehow pull out a remote from my pocket, and the dejected looks thereafter when it didn’t happen so. Shamefacedly I admit that I ranted and I raved. Surya, being a well-trained employee was, you guessed it, contrite, maintained his detached calmness and assured me that my matter would be resolved today. Well today came and went – nothing.

Called helpline again. Again, pressed this and that, assured Poorvi that yes this was my registered mobile number and yes she had my address correctly reflected in her records. She told me to wait for a moment while she checked the status of my complaint. She came back on after a few minutes only to inform me, with pleasure (on her part, not mine) that my complaint had been closed on satisfactory resolution. This, I admit, stumped me. Mustering my wit, I asked to be connected to her supervisor.  She, eager to help, sweetly asked me if she could put me on hold. On my concurrence, she put on some godawful music and went to I presume complete her knitting.  

The supervisor, Anand, who came on after about 10 minutes, again checked my registered mobile number, my name/address etc before solicitously asking me “What can I do for you Sir?”. Apparently, Poorvi hadn’t filled him in. Me by now, thoroughly deflated and with my confidence in the dustbin, softly narrated my story. I think I even pleaded with him to restore my faith in my sanity. He was a kind man, and maybe he pulled some mysterious levers, cause the next day I got a lot of calls seeking my address, directions to my house, subscriber ID etc…………. but, well you are right again, no remote. When I did get my remote after another three days, 10 days after my first call to the helpline, and six months after it was due, I felt I had accomplished something akin to what Tenzing must have felt on reaching the top of Mt Everest.  I presented the remote to my parents as one would an Olympic Gold Medal. Their childish glee was over the top – Or was it sarcasm?

Say what you will, our helplines may not always deliver, but they do teach us the age-old values of patience, dogged perseverance and finally, belief in karma.