Today I had a happening, or rather a culmination, that makes me wonder just how much people’s behaviour here is programmed if at all.
It is exactly one year ago today that I had Eddie Campion bring his set in for repair. He really buttered me up although I didn’t see it as such at the time.
“They tell me that you’re the best radio man in the valley. That you really know your stuff.”
“Well I don’t know about that….I do my best….I try to give reasonable service.”
“ You’re just being modest.” I tend to get embarrassed with complements and I have a particular problem when I suspect the sincerity behind them: that the complement is being used in an attempt to gain advantage. But I didn’t get that impression with Eddie. A nice open man, I thought. I had a number of sets already promised. He didn’t mind.
“There’s no hurry. I’ve got another little set at home that I can use in the meantime. The main thing is to have you do a thorough job.”
The basic fault was a leaking wet electrolytic. A common enough problem. The seals harden with time and the heat from the valves. The hum level tells you straight away what the trouble is and it’s easy enough to fix. The chassis in Eddie’s set though is mounted almost vertically which turned it into a rather expensive repair. The acid had oozed down onto, and corroded, three of the valve sockets which, unfortunately, were in a direct line below.
I changed both electrolytics. If one goes the other is not far behind. I changed the three valve sockets. Maybe I could have got his set running by cleaning them up but I have found that a cheap job usually leads to further trouble. I remember that I also didn’t like the look of several of the paper condensors. They weren’t leaky as yet but the wax ends were showing signs of cracking. They too would go in the near future. I changed them. He’d asked for a thorough job and one’s reputation as a serviceman depends on having no come-backs.
Of course, I had run my dusting paint-brush over everything and tweaked the alignment a little bit. I also went over the cabinet with furniture polish and cleaned the accumulated grime from the grooves in the knobs. I know that polishing the cabinet or cleaning the knobs doesn’t make a set run any better but, strangely, it’s usually these little extra touches that determine how a customer perceives you as a tradesman.
The repair being quite a bit more costly than usual, I kept the parts that I had replaced in a small heap at the back of the bench so that I could show Eddie when he came in. I expected him to be at least a little unhappy. Normally the bits would have gone into the bin one by one as I removed them. They’re no good to anyone. But when he came to pick the set up a couple of days later he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in being shown them.
“No. If you say that’s what it took. That’s what it took.” He paid without complaint.
He was walking out with the set when Jan and June came in. It was their night for the broadcast. The look on their faces said a great deal even before they opened their mouths. They waited until they were sure that Eddie was well clear and not likely to hear them. June went first.
“ You’ve bought yourself a load of trouble there! That man makes trouble wherever he goes. He thrives on it. He IS trouble.” She was quite clearly concerned for me and it was natural for me to wonder why. I had fixed his set and he had no complaints. End of story surely.
“You haven’t heard the end of it.” Now it was Jan. “There is definitely something wrong with that man. My husband will definitely never go near him again.” Jan’s husband owns Crothall Ford. “He bought a roadster from us and had no complaints as long as the guarantee was in force but when it ran out he was in a few days later with a list of complaints as long as your arm and claimed that they had all been present from day one. He demanded that we fix them under the guarantee. He said that it just went to show that Fords were rubbish. He should have known better than to have bought one. My husband has been known to stretch a guarantee a little for a good customer but not for someone as nasty as this. And as is usual for our Mister Edward Campion he took us to court and if anybody knows how to use the court system it’s him. We won eventually but that’s not the point.”
June had been waiting with impatience to tell me her story. Her husband sells ‘Gents Clothing’.
“He demanded that my husband refund his money on some long-johns that he’d actually worn for a whole day. He said that they were scratchy and therefore unwearable. This after he’d worn them for a whole day mind you. What were we supposed to do with them? We couldn’t resell them. When my husband asked if they’d been put through the wash before wearing, he exploded. Got really nasty. My husband took him by the scruff of the neck and marched him out of the shop. And then, of course, he went straight to Sheriff Martin alleging assault but Jim Martin knows what he’s like and has no time for him. Jim went looking for witnesses on the other side of the street and further down and found none. Surprise! Surprise!”
Then it was Jan’s turn again.
“Do you put a guarantee on your work?”
“Thirty days. That’s about all you can promise with radio repairs.”
“ He’s going to be back. Just you wait.”
“You think so?”
“I know it! Did you give him the bits you replaced?”
“No. That’s them here on the bench. I was going to show them to him if he quibbled but he wasn’t interested. I was just about to throw them in the bin. They’re of no value”
“Keep them!” It was a simultaneous command.
Seeing me wavering, the girls did it for me. June pulled a paper bag from the rubbish and bundled the parts into it. Jan grabbed the fountain pen from my top pocket and handed it to her. The bag was named, dated, and placed on a top shelf.
The thirty days passed and no Eddie. Then months. There have been times when I have been getting something from the top shelf and almost tossed that bag but something has always made me stop.
Today he came in. There was a jaunty spring in his step and a smile of triumph on his face. He was master of the world.
“You have some parts belonging to me.”
“That’s right. I’ve kept them safe for you. Hang on. I’ll grab a stool. They’re up there.”
People talk about somebody’s jaw dropping or someone being suddenly deflated and Eddie was a graphic example of this. Perhaps my acting as though keeping a customer’s dud parts for a year was normal was rubbing it in a bit. I wonder, though, if there’s something wrong with me. I felt really sorry for him. As I got the bag down, I noted that it was dated exactly one year ago. Eddie must have had it ringed on his calendar.