Published: Thursday, 6th November, 2008 09:00
In a spin over the washer dryer
By Maurice O'Brien
Maurice O'Brien
WHEN the new Servis washer dryer was delivered I never twigged it was me being taken to the cleaners.
There was a little local difficulty with Currys’ interpretation of its offer to recycle my old washing machine, but we got that sorted amicably.
Nearly 13 months later, however, life’s a good deal grubbier, and if you’re a newish owner of a Servis shirt cleaner then take it from me, you’re stuffed.
Problems started when, back from holiday, I packed a fortnight’s worth of shirts in the machine, selected a wash cycle and began sorting through the climate-changing mountain of junk mail.
The fact that one of the communications came from Servis UK, warning my 12 month warranty had six weeks to go and inviting me to extend it, didn’t seem even mildly ironic at the time.
I find ironing as fascinating as a combination of women’s tennis and watching paint dry, so it was only the next day I discovered the shirts had acquired all the consistency of screwed up, corrugated paper, the deep-seated creases seemingly getting deeper with every touch of steam.
The truth emerged after a second wash; instead of stopping automatically the machine goes straight through a 60-minute dry. Hence the cavernous permacreases.
September 8, ring Servis. Press right buttons. Operator finds my warranty registration but declares: “That’s not one of the faults written down ’ere.” Impressed when she arranges an engineer for September 12, unimpressed when he arrives, shakes his head and announces: “Never seen that before.”
Solution’s a new circuit board, the one that’s not on his van. He’ll ring in a few days. He doesn’t.
September 26, ring Servis. No part yet.
October 6, 8, 10 ring Servis, listen endlessly to same monotonous piece of piano music, give up on each occasion to resume remainder of life.
October 13, get through. No problem with warranty expiring next day, she reassures me. Still covered. Suspicious.
October 16, extended warranty people don’t want to know me. Some fault outstanding on original warranty, apparently.
October 20, ring Servis again. Good news, 28-day deadline passed, could mean new machine. She’ll ring in three days. She doesn’t.
(Nor does she mention bad news. Servis UK went into administration on October 16 after parent company, the Soprano-esque Antonio Merloni, declared itself bankrupt in Milan. Liquidation followed on October 28.)
October 31, discover this for myself when my now telepathic command of phone buttons brings a “we regret to inform you...” recording.
Put through to helpful Domestic and General operator who wants £159, unseen, for repair and year’s guarantee. Once bitten?
Incidentally, under Italy’s iffy Marzano Law, Big Tonio’s debts are wiped clear and he’s already back in business.
Do you think he’d fancy a creased shirt?

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