Service? What service

We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give

This time four years ago – remember that number, it’s important – hordes of families and school children were heading off to the top of snowy slopes of Italy,  where they would attach planks of wood to their feet and speed down the side of mountains, aided only by gravity and a couple of sticks at their side, to the point they started at. And then did it all over again. (Tell us you’re not a skier without saying you’re not a skier))

They returned at the end of the half-term holiday, exhausted, exhilarated, sometimes in one piece, but some of them coughing, having pick-up a strange cold that had hit Italy with a vengeance, having come, it appears from the Far East. It was a bit like flu but also, somehow different.

That strange flu-like respiratory virus changed everything for the next two years. Arguably it changed everything forever. At least, that’s what it feels like when you are trying to get something done or liaise with a service industry.

Martin Lewis, the money-saving guy, and campaigner against rubbish service from financial institutions, is currently gathering evidence of companies operating call centres who are still, four years later, providing rubbish service and blaming the hangover from the Pandemic. The Pandemic that started – yes, four years ago.

Take household insurance.  Here’s a story, settle in: One day, you notice that one of your kitchen unit panels has swollen and is disintegrating because it is soaked through. The concrete floor surrounding it damp, but not wet. You check the fridge, the dishwasher, the sink: no leaks from any of those, so it looks like it’s coming from outside or, the horror, the horror, pipework under the floor.

You ring your household insurance company, navigating through the gazillion options on the phone menu – yes, you could probably do it online but you want to speak to – you know – an actual human who can answer questions. Except they can’t or won’t. Not until they’ve asked you a million question, and then you’ve submitted the claim with quotes from a selection of actual builders, ones that you have to find, because apparently the insurance company no longer get involved in that sort of thing. These have to detail the following: The cause of the damage, how it happened, what work will be needed and what the costs will be, what the materials will cost, what the labour will cost, how long it will take, and how many people will be required to do the work, what costs may be incurred by fixing the problem and any costs from incidental damage that might be caused.

Phew. OK, I get that these are all questions that will need to be answered at some point, the company isn’t simply going to chuck the money at us, but you do find yourself wondering what your premium is paying for when all the work is being outsourced right back at you.

Annoyingly, of course, the initial call to start a claim, and the attempts to update it happen either side of your renewal, so you have no choice but to continue with the same company, who – surprise – have added a 40% uptick to your premium just ‘because’. (I did get it down to something more acceptable, but it still grates).

Then – and this is what made me so cross that I ditched the blog on housing targets I had planned in favour of a rant – once you’ve finally managed to get a builder to a) respond, b) turn up and c) send you the quotes, you contact the insurance company with the information that they had demanded. Only for them to refuse to take your many, many calls trying to update your claim because ‘our call centres are exceptionally busy. Please bear with us as we are can only deal with emergencies at this time.’ There’s no way to update a claim that’s already started on the website or the App, so you have to start all over again, answering the same questions you’ve already done.

Hey, insurance company that’s named after a town in Yorkshire with a particularly magnificent Georgian central hall, you were happy enough to take my inflated premium, but you’re not going to deal with my claim because it’s not enough of an emergency? How dare you take my money and then not provide the service. I think you might have lost my business next year.

Because who doesn’t need a picture of a snow leopard kitten on a rainy Wednesday?

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