Language Skills....Or Not

At a loss to explain or correct the glitch in our scanning software, our local tech support reluctantly initiates a fourth repair ticket to be forwarded to the so called experts in Visakhapatnum or Delhi or Jaipur.  I sign it dismally, not anticipating the call that will follow to bring any more relief than the first three.  Before the afternoon is over, my most dreaded fears are confirmed - I spend over an hour on the 'phone, only able to pick out a word here and there from the rapid fire, incomprehensible and annoying Pakistani who assures me - exactly as he assured me before - that he is committed to solving the problem.  Nicely at first, I ask him to slow down - when he doesn't, I ask a second time, a little less nicely and the third time I'm not at all nice, telling him flat out that I can't understand a word he's saying and that I have more important things to do.  Following the script, he apologizes and then picks up the pace, repeating his request for me to demonstrate the problem.  We have had this exact same conversation a number of times and my temper is reaching a dangerously high level.


It's intermittent!  I snap, It's random!  Do you understand what random means?


He promises me he does then immediately resumes asking me to go through the scanning process and show him what happens,


RANDOM!  LOOK IT UP!  I very nearly scream, IT DOESN'T HAPPEN ON A SCHEDULE!  IT'S ARBITRARY AND HAS A MIND OF ITS OWN!  FOR THE LAST TIME, I CAN'T MAKE IT HAPPEN!


There are a few moments of silence.  I try and collect my weary wits but I'm damned if I'll apologize.


By the time he asks me to email him a screen shot of what isn't supposed to happen but does, I've more or less regained control.


No, I tell him firmly, I've already sent you three separate screen shots and it hasn't changed.  Go find one of those and call me back when you figure it out.  And don't call me until you can fix it because I'm done explaining this without a translator!


I hang up midway through what I imagined might be a protest on his part, slamming the receiver down so hard it hurts my wrist and feeling an urgent longing to smash the first breakable thing I can lay my hands on.  Instead, I snatch the small stuffed hedgehog that sits on the check out counter and pitch it against the wall - it hits with enough force to activate its squeaker - then falls pitifully to the floor.  Both nurses are laughing uncontrollably and   the sound brings me back to my senses.


Sorry, I mutter to the innocent hedgehog and restore him to his place on the counter.


Note to self:  Learn some Hindi cuss words.