ALEC
The reference number at the bottom of the page? … LS23161701… Mr A. Bradley, 26 Morris Avenue, look you know who I am we’ve been on the phone all bloody week…
Right. I’ve got a letter in my hand saying you were going to come round today and sort it out… Oh yes, someone came, someone came and scratched his head at it, had a cup of tea, said he couldn’t fix it and toddled off again. Which to be honest isn’t what I had in mind.
Listen, mate – I’m sorry, do you mind if I call you mate, it’s not a word I’d normally use, but I feel we’ve spent a lot of time together now… Richard. Right. Richard. Richard, when are you going to fix my boiler?... Alright, try again: when – specifically, in time – are you going to fix my boiler?
…Mmmm, uh huh… Do you know I have never encountered incompetence on this level before? My daughter has this thing she says (she’s twenty-seven she talks like a teenager) the thing she keeps saying is ‘next level’, everything’s next-level wrong, next-level horrid, next-level stupid. Well this is next-level farcical if that’s not a tautology.
…Tautology. It means – It doesn’t matter… Could you just– could you let me complain at you, I’m afraid I won’t feel complete until I’ve ruined your day too. I mean what is the point, what is the blasted point of making a boiler so high-tech there’s only two chaps in the country can fix it? What is the bloody point?... So if you agree why can’t you do something about it? Somebody somewhere in your company has to take responsibility –
How many people where you’re working, Richard? …How many can you see? …Where are you?... Good God, no wonder you don’t care about my problems if you’re in Glasgow.
Right, so I’m imagining, if the world’s a fair place, that the others are spending a good portion of their time being screamed at by someone like me I mean I can’t believe I’m completely alone in this… So what if you get everyone together and count up the amount of time you’ve spent listening to complaints about the CH 2010, which incidentally isn’t the year you’re going to fix my boiler in, and then you might work out there’s a health and safety issue, something about stress and eardrums and you can all take your headpieces off and go over and tell the supervisor and maybe if you all club together and do something about it you might have the –
Hmm.
ALEC stops. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.
No that’s crap. Don’t have the power to do anything, do you?
ALEC paces around the coffin, looking at it.
We’ve been cold for four months. You know how cold a house gets after that long? Nothing residual left.
Tell you something else – my wife is dying… No – no, it’s not your fault. …Cancer. Bone cancer… No, she’s going to die.
So you can imagine how this is making me weary. I am spending precious hours of her dwindling life talking to you. She wants to stay at home, she doesn’t want to die in hospital, she wants to die at home, which between you and me I think is a drastically bad idea, but that’s what she wants and by Christ I’ll get it for her if I have to come to Glasgow and do the bloody training course myself.
…No, I’m a. I’m a chartered surveyor… No we don’t do heating systems.
…Look, what it boils down to, excuse the pun, in essence what I’m saying here is the least you can do is let her die in the warm. It’s bafflingly little to ask.
ALEC stands in the coffin.
…When? …DID YOU NOT HEAR A WORD I SAID? I want someone out here tomorrow, Richard. Tomorrow morning.
…Yes, Thursday should be fine. Yes, two o’clock.
ALEC hangs up the phone. He takes a breath.
Thursday.