We’ve all been in those I-should-have-said-something situations: though, as often as not, saying something wouldn’t have made much of a difference to the outcome. But at least when you’re telling the story to other people, it does cast you in a slightly more heroic, defiant light.
For instance: when we were on holidays, we rented a car. We have done this before without incident. But when you rent, you do so in the full knowledge (while trying not to think about it too much; you’re on holidays, after all) that if even the teensiest thing goes wrong, the entire system is weighted against you.
And so it was that when we left the car back, tank full and (we thought) still unblemished, the woman in the car rental office went out to do her inspection and found a scratch on the front bumper. Not even a scratch; more like a slight graze: one so inconsequential that if it was your own car, you’d give it a rub, sigh, and do nothing about it. And if it was on a car you rented, you might take a note of it. But it wouldn’t stop you renting the car.
Nonetheless, the process had been triggered. As they already had a big lien on the credit card we’d used to rent the car with, we were required to pay for the damage.
Seán Moncrieff: The woman in the car rental office was a black hole of emotion, sucking up feelings but giving nothing in return:
My approach to college resulted in a just-about-scraped-a-pass degree. I regret nothing
Listening to Seán Moncrieff would chip away at your national pride
Why do Irish people slather everything with insincere positivity?
The woman in the car rental office delivered this news with a stony face. Even while we were queuing to give the car back, we’d seen how she dealt with other customers. No matter how exercised they became, she remained impassive. She was a black hole of emotion, sucking up their feelings but giving nothing in return. We knew arguing wouldn’t get us anywhere; and anyway, we were in a rush for the plane. Plus, we’d taken out excess car insurance.
This smiling malignity is a constant presence in our lives. There’s the odd controversy – Ticketmaster – and then things go back to normal
She informed us that the bill for the damage would be, rather neatly, €300. Plus, a €50 “damage processing” fee.
And that’s the moment I’ve looked back at and regretted. I meekly handed over the money. But I should have said something: I should have asked her to describe – in detail – what service I was paying €50 for. Was I being charged €50 for the “process” of paying €300? For the two additional pieces of paper I had to sign?
I know I would have received the dead-eyed stare in return. I know I would have paid up anyway. But I might have felt better.
Car-rental companies aren’t the only ones that do this. A vast array of products and services charge a processing fee or a service fee or an administrative and/or delivery charge: and almost never explain what it is for. And it has become so much the norm that we have come to expect that the quoted price for anything isn’t what we’ll end up paying. There will always be an additional screw-you-for-a-few-extra-euro charge.
Perhaps it should be called the insulting-your-intelligence charge: because invariably, while sticking you for a few extra cent, the company will attempt to convince you that it’s your friend. It’s partnering with you or being with you on your journey; it’s providing an experience. Within the corporate world, someone is being paid real money to argue that this skin-crawling insincerity actually works.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps corporate Big Brother is just laughing at us: the smarmy lingo being just a method to hide its sniggers as it charges people whatever it likes.
If you consider the bills you pay, the things you buy and the advertising you are exposed to, this smiling malignity is a constant presence in our lives. There’s the odd controversy – Ticketmaster – and then things go back to normal. No wonder there are so many angry people on the internet. Because it seems as if we can’t do much about it: just small, pointless acts of defiance.