Is there anything else I can help you with?

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Circles in the Sand

If you live here, you’ll know there are only two phone companies – Etisalat and Du. Which means if you’re not satisfied with one, there’s only one other provider. And after that … well, you’re back where you started.

You might also know that Dubai has plans to become one of the world’s smartest cities. We’re talking wi-fi on the beach, smart taxis, smart buses, smart rail, smart parking and, at DSO Smart City, even smart lighting that gets brighter when pedestrians are passing, and solar-powered, motorised smart shading for open areas.

All well and good. Except when it doesn’t work, and the technology leaves you scratching your head and reaching for the gin (like when the SMS parking system doesn’t let you pay; or the ticketing system for the shiny new $1.1bn tram spits your credit card out in disgust and won’t give change).

Dear Du, My recent interaction with you left the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as though they were about to march off and do battle

So, back to my phone. I get an ominous sounding message, among the million other ‘special offer’ SMSs from the phone company. The text says I need to visit one of their shops immediately to avoid disconnection.

But I’m at work. I can’t take a whole morning off to queue up at the Du store. So I do what any other hopeful, time-pressed mother might do – I assume they’re just joking.

Until two days later, when I wake up to find the number I’ve had for six years no longer works. And I end up at the Du office, in their queuing system, with 33 customers to be served ahead of me.

And, two hours later, the man tells me that the documents I’d re-registered with a year or so ago (my passport/ID card) had expired, and, without actually being told, I was meant to somehow know to bring my new documents in to re-register for a second time. Who needs telecommunications when they can use telepathy, after all?

I hand over my passport, chew the inside of my mouth, and ask when I’ll be reconnected: “In 24-48 hours Ma’am.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

At this point, his face has become an oval with two vacant, expressionless eyes and just a slit for a mouth, and I leave, flashing him my best dissatisfied look and knowing there’s an apocalyptic pile-up of customers behind me and making a fuss won’t help.

But you know what: something strange happens over the next 24 … 48 … yes 72 hours. I love not having my phone. I quit a freelance job that’s making me wait months for payment, knowing that the boss won’t get on the phone to talk me into continuing. I spend a day with my bestie from the UK, safe in the knowledge that the school, my car pool, etc, will have to get hold of DH instead.

Then after 72 hours, DH casually mentions: “Have you rebooted your phone?” No, Du never mentioned that, I think to myself – and it turns out to be another telepathy fail because as soon as I reboot, the network springs back to life.

Anyway, rant over. The moral of this post being: if the phone company threatens to cut you off, they’re not joking. Far from it … then they’ll ask what else they can help you with.

The Dubai ‘yes’ (read: no)

Posted on March 28, 2014 by Circles in the Sand

Last week, on the day of all that rain, DH and I did the school run together and decided to get some breakfast before going home.

We splash through the rain and walk into one of my favourite places, which if I tell you has period-inspired, chintzy décor and looks like a dolls’ house (think pink), you’ll know where I mean if you live locally.

It’s raining hard and we run from the car park, so I don’t really look around until we’ve stepped over the cardboard mopping up the rainwater and entered via the back door.

It’s dark inside. Not pitch black, but gloomy enough that we know immediately we won’t be able to read the paper, or even see what we’re eating. There’s obviously some kind of power cut, and, apart from the wait staff, there isn’t a soul inside.

The culinary trend for dining in the dark reaches Arabian Ranches

“Come in!” welcomes a waiter with a megawatt smile. “Wet isn’t it? Come, sit down.”

We’re not quite sure what to do. The waiter motions again towards a table and gestures for us to be seated.

“Are you open?” I enquire. “It’s dark!” I add, stating the obvious. My stomach lets out a low rumble of hunger.

“Yes, yes, we’re open. Just a small problem with the lights.”

I’m reminded of the equally optimistic taxi driver my visiting BF came across last week, who told her he knew where to drop her, but didn’t have a clue and needed help reading the signs (“Bad eyes,” he’d tutted.)

“But can you still cook?” I ask the waiter politely. I peer around the eerily quiet restaurant and spot four or five shadowy figures with tools in a corner, huddled around a circuit-breaker box. “Does the kitchen have power?”

“Ah,” our waiter replies, unsure. “Let me just check on that.”

DH and I stifle a laugh. Through the hatch, we can see the kitchen is also undergoing a black-out.

“We’ll come back later,” we tell him and bid him farewell. And I wonder: Do we look like the kind of couple whose idea of a decent meal out is hanging around like bats in the semi darkness with no food? 🙂 Or maybe the restaurant wasn’t trying to sell food, but instead offer a public service to wet expats who don’t own an umbrella.

Funny ole thing customer service in Dubai.

Outside my work: A day of rain and Dubai drowns

When customer service thinks for you

Posted on October 29, 2013 by Circles in the Sand

So DH and I are at our local retail centre having a breakfast date when my phone rings. It’s the receptionist at a dental clinic in Healthcare City.

“You have appointment,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Wednesda-ay, 9.30 in the morn-ing.”

“That’s right,” I reply. “You phoned yesterday to confirm,” I add, a little confused because it was a fait accompli as far as I was concerned. I wonder if she’s about to tell me the slot’s cancelled and I need to reschedule.

There’s a pause. “Yes, Ma’am,” she says. “I’ll phone you again on Tuesday to remind you.”

“You could just text me if you like,” I suggest. “I’ve written it down.”

I’d have thought nothing more of it, but 10 minutes later, we encounter another circular conversation that suggests we left our brains at passport control.

DH and I go into the supermarket to buy our helper Catherine some lunch from the deli section. They sell Filipino food and we often bring it home for her.

“Sir, you prefer pizza, yes!”

“What’s that?” DH asks, pointing at a vegetable dish.

“You won’t like,” says the man behind the counter, shaking his head.

DH tries again. “But can you tell me what it is?”

“It’s Filipino food.”

“Could I have some please?” attempts DH.

“You no like,” he repeats, adamant.

“If you want, you must try first,” he then adds, helpfully. So DH does the taste test and smiles in approval. “Mmmm, yum.”

Still a little unconvinced, the man reluctantly spoons some of the dish into a small pot – filling it only half full.

We make it to the cash register, and I wonder if receptionists and deli counter staff are actually on a mission to save us from ourselves. You never know – customer service in Dubai can be a strange thing.

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