(title of a dystopian novel written by Aldous Huxley in 1931)
Parting with an old, beloved power tool is an emotional affair. My Black & Decker Sanding Mouse had served me faithfully for 15 years.
It’s reduced the burden of sanding the Wendy House (summerhouse), balustrade and the wall of our neighbours’ shed (all on the photo) and our toolshed ever since we adopted our current painting routine in 2020. I couldn’t have completed the plastering of a wall at our community centre without it.
But last week, it shook itself apart. The base started to part company from the motor, as it was obvious the pins that held it together had worn out.
-o-O-o-
In a last forlorn hope that something could be done, I consulted the instruction leaflet. Nothing about repairs, but – ooh, this sentence on Page 9 looked hopeful:
‘Black & Decker provides a facility for the collection and recycling of Black & Decker products once they have reached the end of their working life. To take advantage of this service please return your product to any authorised repair agent who will collect them on our behalf.’ Now to find such an agent.
There was a helpline number on the back of the instruction leaflet. Alas, a polite lady’s voice told me that this number had not been recognised. So I rang the general number, to receive a response from a male human being, to whom I explained my problem.
“Is your machine under warranty, sir?” No, I explained, that ship had sailed long ago. He advised me to forget returning the old appliance, but to ‘dispose of it in an environmentally responsible way’.
Next question: I needed a new one, so could he advise me where to find one?
“I’m sorry sir, we can’t advise you on how to purchase our products. We don’t sell to the public, only to wholesale electrical goods retailers. (What, I thought, don’t they want us to buy their stuff!?) You’ll have to go online and do your own research.” This is exactly what the conspirancy theorists and anti-vaxxers tell us, is it not!
“Oh! I find this extraordinary!” I exclaimed.
“Let me explain, sir. We only deal with warranty claims here. So, is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“Yes, there may be,” said a frustrated me. “Can you sell me a time machine that’ll take me back 25 years, to the world I belong in? But I don’t s’pose you sell them…”
“Hmm, yes,” said the voice, “I think there are many of us who feel the same way. Oh…er…could you leave a re…no, don’t bother…could you just tell me your name, please?”
Shame, I’d have rather enjoyed writing a review of the conversation!
-o-O-o-
My internet search revealed four things.
- Black & Decker are now called Black + Decker. They merged with Stanley Tools in 2010. The website reports their onward march to high profitability. They’ve long since closed all their UK factories, so the gentleman to whom I spoke probably remembered the halcyon days when they employed thousands of people in Spennymoor (Co. Durham), Slough and on other sites.
- There is an authorised repair centre in Sheffield. I could do my recycling bit, but I’d need to embark on a round trip of 70 miles (2 hours’ driving).
- I can buy a new one at Argos, B&Q, or – of course – at Mr Bezos’ online behemoth (No way!).
- I couldn’t find a time machine. But guess where I could buy the next best thing?
-o-O-o-
I can only reminisce about the olden days when sheep and cattle roamed the pastures, farmers produced food and made a profit, goods were made in UK factories which employed real people. Nobody was racing to introduce robots and AI so they could get rid of humans. You could get things mended locally. We had April showers, traditional British summers (oh, why did we complain about the rain!), crisp frosty mornings and snow in winter. Graduates went on to careers, non-graduates learnt trades. Alas…
O Brave New World!
johnhearsonwrites.com 