I’M not usually susceptible to marketing, but I got caught out this week by a clever bit of subterfuge.
I needed a new fridge, so I looked online, compared prices, chose a larder fridge from Currys and sent off the order.
So far, so good. The new fridge was spacious, commodious and cold. Having thought I had mysteriously lost the ability to cook I now realise I have been eating slightly mouldy food for months.
On the Currys website I learned about a phenomenon called the Know How Team, who would deliver your fridge when you wanted, fit and install it and deal with any problems.
I looked at the picture of the smiling handsome workmen and wondered if they would also rehang the door the right way. They looked so willing and helpful in their photograph I thought they might.
The day before new fridge day a super-friendly text arrived from the Know How Team, saying they were on their way. In the morning they texted again. Exciting.
I didn’t really expect to get the delivery men in the picture. But the reality was disappointing. Instead of the Know How Team the No Way Team showed up.
The gruff, overworked drivers had not been told to take away my old fridge and rolled their eyes when I asked them to unwrap the new one. Far from installing it they said it shouldn’t be plugged in for three hours and shook their heads at the space under the counter saying: “No way it’s going to fit.”
I practically had to hang on to their overalls to stop them leaving without checking if the new fridge was the right size.
Three hours later, with the help of my neighbour’s boyfriend and some WD 40 the fridge was installed, functioning, with a door that opened the right way. Sadly I realised I’d been fooled by the false promises, the fake photographs and the friendly texts.
As my friend Dr Colin is fond of saying about bad service: “It is amazing capitalism doesn’t just collapse.”