The Insinkerator

The Flintstones had a pig underneath their sink that would eat all the scraps of food that Fred and Wilma left on their plates.  We don’t though, instead we have an Insinkerator Model 45 which macerates all of our leftover food items and flushes them through the waste pipe at least we did have as it has now broken.  The motor is working fine, it keeps spinning but the blades are dulled, they’re just not doing their stuff and its chamber remains full of half chewed potato peelings.

The under the sink waste disposal unit was a wonder of the eighties, it was the envy of our neighbours and like all gadgets we have come to rely on it.  It has transformed over the years from a nice to have to a must have.  But there was no problem, I did what I needed to in such a situation, what I do in all of these situations and went on the internet and searched for a replacement.  Of course there were many purveyors to choose form and so I set myself the task of weighing up the relative pros and cons of cost price, logistics costs and delivery promises and made my decision.

The one I liked best was from a firm called www.sinks-taps.com, an organisation clearly devoted to all thinks sink related and so I added my choice to the basket, registered as a new customer and hit the buy-now button.  I put in my credit card details as requested and place my order.  So far so good and the next day I received an email thanking me for my purchase and advising me that they would keep me updated with its progress.  Sure enough, a day later they let me know that the goods were on their way followed by a text (I’d given them my mobile number but a made up home number) saying when it would be delivered.  The text gave me the option to change delivery to a more convenient date if the proposed date wasn’t so.  That was a nice touch and as promised my shiny new Insinkerator Model 45 (actually it’s matt black) arrived on time in a blue box and delivered by hand.

And this is what struck me.  The whole process from selection to delivery had been smooth, efficient and effective but the first and only contact with a human that I was aware of was when the doorbell rang and the man in the brown and neatly creased overalls handed me the package.  Even the signature transferring ownership was done electronically.  Could he be the only person to work in the operation, the firm personified?  Is he the human link in an otherwise mechanistic supply chain?  I am imagining the dark edifice of the Sinks-Taps depot, on a new light industrial estate outside of Droitwich Spa, as a lights-out operation run by droids programmed in the art of sanitation parts distribution.

I have now fitted the Insinkertor Model 45, a feat that was as easy as its purchase and I am delighted with the outcome, so delighted that I would like to drop an email to the company to express my gratitude but to whom do I send it? It doesn’t matter, I’ll send it in machine readable format and their circuits will light with pleasure when they get the recognition they richly deserve for their sterling efforts.

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