70. Technician’s job

Saturday, 2 March 2019

Panama City, Panama

Having accumulated nineteen postcards since Buenos Aires, in need of a post office. Lo and behold, there’s one in the shopping centre adjacent the hotel. Easy peasy. For avid readers of the blog, you will recall the Bariloche post office escapade (blog post ‘25. A bit of faffing’). Hoping for something cheaper and easier today.

The post office is located at the back of a dimly lit open air shopping precinct. Very 1970s. Five counters, of which counters two and four have workers sitting behind them. Counter two has a customer so go to counter four. Counter four is busy gassing with her female co-worker and completely ignores me until co-worker acknowledges me and she turns to talk to me. Conscious of expensive stamps from being fleeced in Bariloche, I want to know how much it is first before I start sending nineteen postcards.

“How many?”, she asks.

“How much is it?”, I ask.

“How many?”, she repeats.

Price isn’t dependent on quantity missus, so please just tell me the price of one. It’s going to be a long day if we carry on like this.

Bearing in mind she’s sitting at counter four which is immediately next to the vacant chair at counter three, as it has no worker, she tells me to go to counter three.

Really?

Assuming that her co-worker she was gassing with, who is standing behind her, is actually counter three’s attendant, I sceptically step sideways to counter three.

And wait. Looking around non-plussed for some assistance in the small matter of finding out how much a sodding stamp is to the UK (and Germany, please note Miss Braunschweig).

After a few minutes waiting, she calls me back to counter four.

And she says those immortal words.

“We have no stamps. Come back Monday.”

WHAT?!?

It’s a clucking post office for cluck’s sake.

“But you must have stamps. It’s a post office. And anyway, how much is a stamp to the UK?”, says an irritated TT.

“We have no stamps. Come back Monday.”, she repeats.

Someone’s going to get a slap very soon.

Clear that I’m wasting my time. Stride out of post office, John Cleese like in his film ‘Clockwise’, saying to myself in a John Cleese manner, “Right!”

So, you’ll have to wait for your postcards to be posted until I get to Dallas.

Next on the shopping list is a Swatch watch battery.

Jump in taxi to the Multi Plaza shopping mall. A big, modern, clean mall. Not like the grubby place I’ve come from.

It’s only after a few minutes that I notice that there’s no ignition key and see a load of wires straddled across the driver’s knee.

He’s hot wired the taxi.

The mall taxi drop off necessitates stopping at a barrier to get a ticket. The taxi stalls. He has to connect the wires across his knee to start the engine. Bizarre.

You would think that the Swatch watch shop would sell batteries for its Swatch watches.

You would, wouldn’t you?

Er no.

Directed to the Seiko watch shop on the ground floor some distance away.

Off I traipse. Losing the will to live today.

Seiko watch shop a posh shop.

Sharply suited Seiko shop assistant says hello, how may I help you.

Explain.

Told to come back in 15 minutes as the technician is at another shop at the moment.

WHAT?!

Don’t need a sodding technician. Just sell me a sodding battery. Please.

Getting grumpy dealing with muppetry now.

Nope. Not allowed. It’s a technician’s job.

No it clucking well isn’t!! He is told.

Take watch off and ask him to just sell me the battery. I’ll do the rest. More than qualified.

He takes watch and disappears to the backshop.

Moments later he returns. Explains that he can’t sell me a battery on its own. A technician needs to fit it. Come back in 15 minutes.

Further explains that he can’t sell me a battery. As he doesn’t know what battery type it is.

Lose it.

Words are said.

Take the battery out myself and give the old one to him. Sensing my increasing irritation, he thinks better of it and returns to his little backshop office. The noise of drawers being opened can be heard and he quickly returns with the correct battery. Takes me all of 10 seconds to put new battery in and close the cover.

Not exactly a technician’s job is it!

Taxi back to hotel. Taxi at the mall’s taxi rank demands US$7. Have paid US$4 to get here. There’s no negotiation he says.

And with that walk a few steps across the car park to the road and grab a taxi for US$4 back to hotel.

Muppets.

All of them.