I don’t know what’s going on with my letting agency, but I’m almost convinced they’re part of a psychological experiment designed to drive me mad.
It’s now over a fortnight since I told them my busted old washing machine had shuffled off the mortal coil, and they’ve still not done hee-haw about it. I’ve about reached the end of my tether with them as it seems clear they’re doing one of two things:
The various offices and their maintenance contractor are not actually talking to each other and information is being lost somewhere between them.
Or
They’re waging a Machiavellian war of nerves against me in the hopes that I get frustrated enough to get in my own repairman or even buy a whole new machine on my own.
The whole saga is getting more and more frustrating as time goes on.
Thursday 22nd January – The washing machine produces an odd burning smell and stops spinning while loaded with two pairs of jeans. I crack the door open as I’m worried the whole thing will burst into flames. The jeans are soaking wet.
Friday 23rd January – I phone the letting agents first thing in the morning and tell them the details. They tell me that a contactor will be out ASAP to take a look at it but that it will probably be Monday before they can make it.
Monday 26th January – Arrive home after work and inspected the scene. No sign that anything has happened with the machine. It hasn’t been disturbed as far as I can tell, and there’s definitely no sign that anyone has had it out to look at it. Maybe they’re busy, I thought, I’ll give them to the end of tomorrow to do something about it.
Wednesday 28th January – I figured that I had given them enough time and phoned up to find out what the hell was going on. The repair team at the agents told me that the job was with the contractor, but they would phone and check what was happening and give me a call back.
Thursday 29th January – I’ve had no call back and so I decided to try the machine and see if they’ve maybe fixed it and not let me know. I load in a couple of tea towels and set it on the lightest setting. It fills up with water and sits there whirring away. The drum doesn’t move, and there’s an odd smell of burning rubber.
Friday 30th January – I phone up the letting agent again, and they assure me that the instructions have been sent to the contractor, but they also admit that there’s no information on their system about the work being done. I ask them to check it out and give me a call back as it’s been over a week since the thing broke down and things are starting to smell in the flat. I take a break down in Ayrshire and my ever efficient Mum offers to do the washing for me to help out. I’m reluctant, but eventually agree and thank her for her assistance.
Monday 2nd February – I check every minute detail of the machine to see if it’s been disturbed, but nothing’s happened at all that I can see.
Tuesday 3rd February – I phone up and ask the letting agency what the hell is going on? They’re very apologetic of course and they check their system carefully. Seemingly the contractor has been out to look at the machine, last week, and found that it’s fine and working normally. No chance I say, and I tell them I’m going to try it that night and check. They say it might be the age of the machine that’s a problem, and the repair team say that they will consult with my property manager about the possibility of replacing the machine. I ask them to give me a phone back and make a point of giving them my mobile number, work number and home number so that they can get me. I try a couple of polo shirts in the machine when I get in from work, and it refuses to spin. The shirts are choked with washing powder and utterly sodden. I have to hang them over the bath to avoid flooding the kitchen with the runoff.
Wednesday 4th February – Phone up again to complain about their utter lack of action. They tell me that my property manager is off sick that day and is the only one that can sign off on the replacement of appliances etc. I say I’ll phone back tomorrow, and again ask them to give me a call and let me know what the hell is going on.
Friday 6th February – Still heard nothing from the letting agents. I phone up to try and get the property manager, but he or she is out at a property viewing. The person on the phone assures me that a message will be left and that the property manager will phone me back. When I don’t get a phone call I ask if I can leave work early and head down to their office in an effort to put the boot in. This is instantly scuppered by a comedy of errors on the part of my boss means that I don’t get there until after it closes.
Monday 9th February – I phone up again and demand to know what the hell is going on, but I as much as get told I’ve phoned the wrong office. I ask the person on the end of the phone to get my property manager. They’re unavailable at present of course. I demand that something be done ASAP about the washing machine and they assure me that they’ll get right on it and phone me back. I give them my mobile number yet again and a promise that I’ll be phoning every day until the thing is fixed or replaced.
It’s lunchtime already, and three hours since I phoned the bastards. They better pull something fairly spectacular out of their ass before finishing time.
