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GLADSTONE MARINA—APRIL 2011...continued |
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Now, Gladstone is a nice place in many ways but sometimes it is hard to tell what planet some of the businesses and staff are on. Some of the businesses are great, such as the auto electrician who made some heavy electrical cables for us, and the canvas/upholstery place that sold us canvas and fittings for our new aft deck awning. The car service place, on the other hand, charged $121 an hour for labour and even more for parts (a $500 bill for a minor service), and everyone was as rude and surly as can be. The welding business was courteous but charged $100 to re-weld three tiny sections of stainless pipe. Ugh.
The auto stores and electrical parts outlets had my head spinning, when each in turn said, “Nah, mate, don’t know where you’d get something like that…”, as if it was a rocket booster, or, “We don’t have anything like that in stock, I’d have to contact a supplier…(dubious expression)”. Heaven forbid, fancy having to go to the trouble of contacting a supplier. I left.
Runner up in the horror stakes was the company from which we ordered some boating parts. “Yeah, well, the supplier sent the stuff, it is supposed to be here in Gladstone at a freight depot this morning. But we don’t know when we’ll be getting it because the local freight people don’t have any drivers. The last lot of stuff got to the depot Wednesday, we didn’t get it until the following Monday (smirk). We called, and they said ‘Yeah, yeah, we know, we’ll get around to it eventually’. And if the stuff has gone to Rocky (Rockhampton) then that’s even worse ‘cause if the driver doesn’t go to Rocky to pick it up then it doesn’t get delivered.” With daily marina fees building up, this is not what you want to hear, and no suggestion that they might go and get the parcel for you.
But the prize winning business was one of the local hydraulics companies. I needed some fittings. I walk into the “showroom”. No-one there, just a bell saying to ring for service. I ring. No-one comes. I wait, and wait, and ring, and ring, and no-one comes. I look around. Only a few metres away is a large glass wall. On the other side is the office area. There are women in there working. They take not the slightest notice of me.
I keep ringing. Eventually a bloke comes in from the workshop area and fronts up to the counter. “Is anyone serving you?” he asks. “No,” I smile sweetly. I tell him what I want. “Nah, the other bloke does that bit. I’ll get him.” He goes outside into another office, then comes back and vanishes into the workshop.
Nothing happens. The “other bloke” eventually comes. I tell him what I want. He is unsure about what fittings I need, but I buy what he offers anyway.
Turns out they are the wrong parts. Next day I take them back. A different guy is there, on his own. Everyone else has gone home. “I’m quite happy to give you a refund,” he says, “But there is no-one here to do it, some come back tomorrow.”
So next day I make my third trip to this business. Once again the office ladies ignore my existence. The original bloke eventually appears. I explain I want a refund. “On the credit card?” he says. “Fine,” I say. “I don’t know how to do that,” he says, leading me into the office area.
None of the women even turn around. He calls out “Anyone know how to do a refund on a credit card?” A few desultory “Nah’s” emanate from the turned backs. “Sorry mate, we’ve only been taught to take money on credit cards, we don’t know how to refund it.”
My jaw drops. You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Then he helpfully adds, “We could give you cash, is that all right?” “Sure,” I say, brightening up. After some scrummaging around he looks up, forlorn. “Sorry, there isn’t any. Leave the parts here and come back tomorrow and we’ll have some cash for you.” I run screaming out the door, headed for the insane asylum.
Needless to say, I didn’t go back. Not a fourth time. I just couldn’t face them. Leanne went instead. And yes, she got the cash, and no, they still don’t know how to refund on a credit card. Be warned! |