As I waited at the reception desk of the car service centre, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked at my watch: it was 7:10am.
When the service adviser arrived, he asked if I had an appointment, to which I responded "No, but I am here early".
According to the dealer's system, vehicles are accepted without an appointment provided they are dropped off before the 7:30am cut-off time.
"We only take cars with appointments now - new rules," he said coldly. Accepting the inevitable, I promised to make an appointment the next time, but asked if he could still accept my car without an appointment this time. He reluctantly agreed and started to fill out the paperwork. "How many kilometres?'' he asked." "Eighty thousand," I answered. (I do a lot of commuting). "That's a major service. It won't be ready until tomorrow." I shrugged and said, "No problem."
As he did his usual inspection for marks and bumps on the vehicle I remembered my wife's request to take out the extra back seats - we have a 4x4 - to create more boot space.
When I communicated this request the response was a stern "Can't do! That requires a separate appointment."
I had had enough. I tracked down the head manager and described the whole experience as being like trying to walk through a corridor with a series of closed doors, which I had to knock on and give a password to enter.
After some discussion the manager agreed to have his team do all the work, but could not guarantee delivery on the same day.
While taking the taxi back home, I thought about how customer service has been forgotten by many of today's businesses.
As a cloud of negativity started to hover over me, I noticed how despondent the taxi driver was. In fact, apart from the grunt he gave me in recognising the address I gave him, he did not utter a single word.
One doesn't expect a philosophical discussion about 'Plato's Cave' (although a taxi driver in Glasgow knew a suspicious amount about the topic) but a 'good morning' or 'how are you?' would have been nice to hear.
The taxi arrived at my house with the meter reading Dh20.50. I had read articles about how hard-done-by our taxi drivers are, so I gave him Dh30 and asked him to only give me Dh5 in change.
To my surprise, he was completely deaf to my 25 per cent tip offer and returned Dh10. Not wanting to spend a second more in his company, I immediately got out.
As I sat at my desk sipping my espresso, I could not help but think about the significance of the events that had occurred. Two bad customer service experiences in a row is not an accident, it's the universe trying to tell me something. What? And couldn't it wait until after my espresso?
My favourite motivational author, the British Bafta-award-winning scriptwriter Geoff Thompson, often says that our inner states are mirrored outside us.
So instead of looking outside for answers, I started scanning the vast terrains of my inner self by asking: "Have I closed the door on people who came to me for help? Have I been deaf to offers of generosity?"
The honest answer to those questions was 'yes'. My e-mail inbox was full of unanswered messages from people asking me for guidance. My mobile phone also had numerous missed calls from callers that could easily have been offering me great opportunities.
I started working through the backlog. As the day came to a close, I received a call from my service adviser, informing me that my vehicle was now ready, with the extra back seats removed.
Wael Al Sayegh is an Emirati poet and writer based in Dubai.
