Zimbabwe: World's Worst Service

We've all suffered through poor customer service – being put on hold on the telephone for hours, rude clerks seemingly having little to no interest in our business, field technicians who may or may not ever show up at our homes.

However, nothing compares to the ineptitude of customer service in Zimbabwe, where futility is often measured in weeks not hours.

Two days ago, my power went out and is still out.  Electrical outages are certainly nothing new in Zimbabwe, a country characterized by an abysmal infrastructure and an ever-deteriorating economy, but after more than a day in the dark, it seemed like the right time to contact the electric company.

The phone attendant had obviously fielded dozens of complaints by the time I got around to making a call because when I shared my address he immediately said, "Your power is out because someone stole the oil out of the transformer."

What? I must have misunderstood.

"Excuse me," I replied. "What do you mean someone stole the oil out of the transformer?"

He said it again. "Someone took the oil," without offering up any additional explanation, seemingly implying everyone is familiar with transformer-oil thieves.

I couldn't resist.

"When do you think the oil will be put back into the transformer?" I asked, assuming it would be a matter of a few hours. "Give us at least five days," said the clerk.

Had I been back in America, my blood pressure might have already spiked 20 points and the phone been sent sailing through the window, but this is Zimbabwe, where patience is a necessity, not a virtue.

"O.K.," I said dejectedly, as I hung up

Disappearing transformer oil is a new one on me. I had to get an explanation. I went to a trusted source, Shadreck, my gardener who is correct much more often than not when it comes to understanding how the community works.

Shadreck smiled, informing me that transformer-related theft is fairly common. The crooks take everything from copper windings, to oil, to nuts and bolts, hoping to resell the items on the black market in a country always facing a shortage of spare parts. I've since read that some clean transformer oil has even been traced to restaurants where it's used to fry food because of the high-burn point.

When I told Shadreck it might take five days for the transformer to be fixed, he just laughed. "It will probably be two to three weeks," he said.

Our conversation brought back memories of last year when I called Zimbabwe's national airline to confirm an upcoming flight.

"Our computers are down," said the operator. "You'll have to call back later."

I asked her when, expecting to hear later that afternoon. "Try in two weeks," she replied.

You might wonder why I tolerate such appalling service. The answer is simple. Zimbabwe is constantly teetering on the brink of disaster – dealing with 90% unemployment, almost non-existent industry, drought, political persecution, and disease. Why get upset when there's so many other pressing issues no one is willing or able to solve.

That's Zimbabwe, and in many respects, Africa. Yet, somehow, life continues rolling along, despite the daily obstacles.

And so as I approach the third day without electricity I remain optimistic it will eventually come back on, hoping my transformer oil isn't be used right now to cook french fries.