I have now joined the swelling ranks of cell phone customers who have experienced firsthand the farce of trying to get reconnected. Allow me to fill you in on some of the background. As it was over a month since I had paid my last bill, I decided to check with the telephone department as to when my next bill was due. It would have been far more efficient, effective and enlightening to check with either a clairvoyant or a medium. When I tried to find out, the person I spoke to evidently didn’t have a clue as to how much I owed nor what I was talking about. Encouraged by my telepathic stirrings that have evolved over several years spent here, I decided to visit the telephone company’s center in order to settle the unknown amount of the unknown date. I usually get exasperated with the number of SMS messages I am bombarded with informing me of how much it is that I am supposed to pay, but this time, perhaps due to the low glucose levels of the employees who were fasting, I received nothing. Not a single message or forewarning.
I felt tremendous relief when I finally managed to pay the bill, even though I had not officially received it, and as my phone was still connected but I have lived long enough here to know that anything can happen, implored the chap behind the counter to provide me with the reassurance I needed that my lifeline would not be cut off.
“No problem sister,” he confirmed amused by my anxiety.
“Are you sure?” I asked pathetically, still somewhat unconvinced by his faith in the system.
“Sure! I am 100 percent sure,” was the vote of confidence that assuaged my anxiety.
Twenty-four hours after payment and with no warning whatsoever, I was disconnected from the system!
Normally under such circumstances, Al Jawal allows a grace period for you to pay your bill by allowing you to receive calls while barring you from making any outgoing ones. I tried sending a text to an associate and was surprised to see the words “Check operator services” flashing across the screen. Naturally I imagined that Al Jawal had yet again changed its message service center number without telling anyone. A bit of fun and frolic it likes to have with its customers from time to time just to liven things up in our otherwise mundane existence. So while I figured out how to use my newfound mind-reading capabilities in order to figure out what the new number could be, my home line started ringing.
“Why has your mobile been disconnected?” inquired a friend.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes. The recording said that your mobile number had been disconnected due to nonpayment.”
In spite of having settled my bill I was now publicly being accused by the company of being a non-paying felon. Anyone who called up my mobile was apprised of the fact that I was experiencing financial difficulties. Great, I thought, perhaps my friends would be inspired to raise a collection for me.
What ensued was nothing short of a Carry-On movie. I called 902 and was Welcomed to Al Jawal Center, wished a Happy Eid, asked to make my selection from an intriguing menu and then the line went dead. When I finally got through to an operator after no less than three attempts I was asked to call back from my mobile number. When I did that, after having been wished a Happy Eid all over again, regaled with the same menu etc. etc. I spoke to a gentleman with an American twang who wouldn’t even listen to what I was telling him. With the utmost confidence he alluded to the fact that there was nothing wrong with my phone and bade me farewell making me believe that I was suffering from some form of inexplicable delusional paranoia.
I tried to make an outgoing call, but of course the Arabic recording reminded me yet again that I had not paid my bill which is why my mobile service had temporarily been disconnected.
I called again and the call was dropped a further couple of times but as I grew up in the Latin school of thought where they falsely taught us that perseventia omnia vincit (perseverance conquers all) and forgot to put in the clause except in Saudi Arabia, I tried again.
“Yes. Muhammad. How can I help you?”
“Yes please. I would like to know why my mobile has been disconnected.”
“Yes. No problem with your phone now. Thank you,” he said and then hung up.
Wow, I thought to myself. Computerized efficiency like I had never witnessed before and so I tried calling from my mobile again. Again the same message about nonpayment heaping insult upon injury.
I called again and spoke to another operator explaining my plight.
“No problem sister. You wait 24 hours because bank little problem. You need time.”
“But I didn’t pay at a bank! I paid at Al Jawal Center on King Fahd Road and they re-connect you immediately.”
“Oh. OK sister now you are connected. Inshallah no problem with your phone now. Zero is OK.”
I tried again and lo and behold, surprise surprise, the same problem!
I called back. This time my Al Jawal brother Muhammad answered.
“Yes sister but you called only one minute back so what’s problem now?”
I demanded to speak to a manager.
“But sister we are all manager here,” he claimed. The fact that he had defined the national work ethic was of no consequence to me at that point.
“All I need,” I said painfully slowly, “is for my phone to be re-connected. It has been 24 hours since I paid my bill.”
“Yes. What’s problem?”
“My phone has been disconnected!” I screamed. “DISCONNECTED! MAAFI KHAT!”
“So you need international line? Because I check bas fee international line. Zero maujood everything working.”
“Forget zero, international line. I just need to make a telephone call with my Jawal. Here in Riyadh. Okay?”
“Ah. You can’t make local call?” he said emphasizing the word “local” in such a way as to doubt my ability to articulate proficiently in the English language.
“Yes. Local. Can’t make. Can’t receive,” I clarified.
“Aaah,” he said finally getting the point. “OK. One minute. One minute.”
I heard him tapping away at some keyboard. “Now everything OK Inshallah,” he declared.
“I don’t believe you,” I retorted.
“No, wallahi sister,” he replied laughing, “Inshallah everything OK now.”
“Wallahi,” I argued, “I still don’t believe you.”
So as to confirm the point, he called me from his mobile and I thanked him and hung up the phone in amazement having wasted over half an hour in an endeavor that elsewhere would have taken five minutes at the most.
The interesting thing is that all the phone calls are recorded. I wonder what they do with them in order to “ensure quality service”?
Answers on the back of a postcard to...
(Lubna Hussain is a Saudi writer. She is based in Riyadh.)