The Complaint

Playing it safe isn’t playing at all.

Jacob Cursbey was so bored he’d been having two lunches a day just to fill the time. When he was given work he’d complete it in less than an hour and go back to the vast desert expanses of an empty day. He’d tried to spin the work out but making it last too long would just make him appear to be a fucking idiot.

The phone rang. Jacob let it ring three times to make it appear that he was busy. The effort was wasted because it was Janey on the phone. She was Mr Fanchers’ secretary, well actually she was the department secretary but to be honest that was the same thing. To call the office a department was an ambitious claim but technically it was true, so Fancher revelled in it. 

‘Hey Jake’ Janey was robotically efficient. She practically ran the place but was never less than warm and polite. That was no small feat when she had been professionally chained to Fancher. Fancher was often stupid but even he couldn’t ignore the fact that much of his success was built on Janeys’ shoulders. Since they first worked together he’d been promoted several times and he’d dragged her with him. She did deserve the success but Fancher was the price no-one should have to pay.

‘Hey Janey, what’s the problem?’ Janey was an attractive single woman. She was at least fifteen years older than Jacob but it didn’t stop Jacob thinking about asking her out for a drink.

‘His Lordship has decided to go out for lunch, I’m pretty sure it’s because we have someone here to complain.’ Janey was smart enough to know what went on. She was confident that if Fancher ever got his long deserved come-uppance then she’d probably be rewarded for her years of excellent service.  

‘That’s a bit weird. What do you mean someone’s here?’

‘Someone has actually come into the building. I’ve sat him in the reception room, but he’s fuming.’ Janey’s voice never wavered, didn’t give away the time she’d spent calming the visitor down. She always seemed to ride over the little ripples that life threw at her and talking to her made you feel the same.

‘Is the boss annoyed that he can’t go to lunch?’

‘That’s why I’m ringing you. He’s keeping his ‘appointment’, even though it’s not in his diary. You’re going to have to deal with the complaint. Only seemed fair to give you warning.’ Once again Janey had taken it into her own hands to be the professional face of the department. Time and again she proved herself to be even handed and fair. Jacob promised himself to ask her for that drink as soon as he’d faced this new trial.

‘Oh. I see. Thanks for the heads up.’

‘No problem, if you need anything ring through and I’ll do my best to help you.’

‘I might just do that.’

Jacobs mind raced. He had to stay cool and maybe instead of getting a verbal clubbing, he might get something valuable out of this.

All too soon the door to his office opened and Fanchers’ unpleasantly smug face appeared.

‘I’ve got an important meeting with the sports minister, inter department business. It can’t be delayed, there’s a gentleman here with a grievance, so can you take down his details and make sure he doesn’t upset Janey.’

‘No problem, Mr. Fancher. If he needs compensation...’

‘Do what you need to, and check with Janey before you sign away a fortune. I’ll be back before the end of the day .’ Fancher bustled out humming as if he’d won the lottery. He took the fire escape so he didn’t need to pass through reception. As soon as Jacob heard the outer door shut he picked up the phone and dialled through to Janey.

‘Janey, I think it would look better if I spoke to the gentlemen in Fanchers’ office. More professional.’

‘Good idea. You can buzz me from in there once you’re ready. Please be quick he’s already been waiting for almost ten minutes.  And remember this guy is very annoyed so treat him carefully.’

‘Thanks Janey I’ll be ready in two minutes’.

Jacob stood up from his lonely desk, looked out of the window to see the same old city streets steadily drying after a downpour. It was safe to assume that the man with an axe to grind had probably approached the office during the shower, which would have just wound him up further. Jacob neatened up his tie, and smoothed his hair in the window reflection. He quickly crossed the store cupboard that was his office and let himself into Fanchers’ office. As the head of a department Fancher was afforded a rather luxurious office space. Decorated recently he had replaced all the old, traditional civil-servant finery for something much cleaner. Jacob preferred the lighter look but couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen this exact office layout in the IKEA catalogue. On the enormous desk was the neat clutter of an executive that was more concerned with being than doing. The embossed nameplate fired a little idea off in Jacobs head. He quickly folded the Fancher family photo down and slid it into a drawer. Then he jotted the photo’s location on a chunky but entirely blank pad, with a steel pen engraved with Fanchers’ ridiculous monogram. He wanted to make sure there was no evidence when he left the room later and the note would jog his memory. He sank into the creaky luxury of Fanchers’ throne. It had a high back, presumably ideal for a man whose spine had long-since melted away. Jacob found it just a little too comfy so he took a ledger off the desk and sat on it. Better to adjust his position this way than meddle with the Fancher perfect chair settings. The ledger was hard and pitched Jacob forward in the seat. In his head he looked like a vulture, then Fanchers face appeared on the ragged bird and Jacob knew this was right. On the desk in front of him was a letter. In fact it was the letter that Jacob had passed to Janey this morning. It was Jacob Cursbys’ transfer request. The envelope had been sliced open with some precision instrument. The letter poked out of the top. A post-it note on the letter said ‘Not having the Smith incident again’. The writing was surprisingly savage and in black marker pen, certainly not the steel, monogrammed rollerball.

                Stuart Smith was Jacobs’s predecessor. Like Jacob he’d been selected out of school at random. He lasted a full twelve months before he put in a transfer request and moved onto the manufacturing department. He got on really well and was soon an assistant to the lead charm designer. The trouble was that he hadn’t been very discreet. Once he was doing well he’d entertained his new work colleagues with stories about Fanchers’ tiny department. The gossip spread and Fanchers’ department suddenly had a 'routine-yearly' inspection, which hadn’t happened for five years. Fancher hated ripples in his pond and the post-it explained that he considered Cursby a potential pebble.

Jacob removed his letter from the envelope and opened it up. Reaching across the desk he took one of Fanchers’ stamps from the stamp tree and slapped it across the letter. Large red APPROVED text partially obscured the thoughtfully written letter. In the top drawer there were some neatly stacked envelopes. Jacob refolded the letter and slid it into the fresh envelope. He took a new post-it from the stack and using the steel pen wrote 'Research Dept' on it then attached it to the envelope. He closed the drawer, and dropped the old envelope into the otherwise empty bin.

‘Janey?’

‘Are you ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be, can you bring him in?’

‘Be right with you.’

   The double doors swung open beautifully and Janey neatly led the man into the room. Jacob reminded himself once again, to ask her out when this guy had gone. The man was dressed in a very smart suit. He was middle aged but slim. He would have a well groomed appearance if the rain shower hadn’t leant him a veneer of unkempt. His steps were purposeful and angry. It would be easy to imagine the rain steaming off him with a bottled rage. Janey must have charmed him enough that he didn’t enter the room shouting. She sat him in the small guest chair on the open side of the desk defences.

‘This is Mr. Hopwood. He has a complaint about his bonnet charm.’ Janey introduced. Jacob jumped in. His heart pounded as he handed her the crisp new envelope.

‘Miss Lawton, would you please put this letter into the internal post.’ Janey took the envelope, turned and left the room. Jacob smiled at Mr. Hopwood then leaning over the huge desk extended a hand ready to shake with the visitor. A hand shot out and shook once with determined purpose.

`I’m here to talk with you...’

Janey closed the doors and Jacob leapt at the opportunity like a tiger on an unattended goat.

‘I’m Mister Fancher. How can I help you?’

‘My bloody car! It’s a steaming pile of wreckage and I want to know what you’ll do about it?’

‘O.K. Mister Hopwood. Please calm down and start at the beginning. I’ll help if I can but I don’t understand...’

‘I’d got your top of the line bonnet charm. It was installed just 3 months ago and since my cars a write off I’d say it was a complete waste of money!’

‘Please try to stay calm Mr Hopwood. I’ll need some more information, let me write down some of your details.’

Jacob was cool. This poor guy thought Jacob was Fancher, and Jacob knew what he’d say, so let this play out as if Fancher had never left the building. He pulled an immaculate pad of paper from a corner of the desk and drew the steel pen like a sword.

‘What exactly happened?’

‘I haven’t time for this, please write me a cheque...’

Jacob adjusted his position on the ledger, straightened his back and looked intently at the irritated Mr. Hopwood.

‘Please, I can’t help you unless you explain to me.’

‘O.K. alright. I was on my way to a meeting.’

‘Meeting?’

‘Yes I own my own business. I supply organic vegetables to restaurants. I was supposed to meet a new client to discuss his order....’

‘Here in the city?’

‘Yes.’

Jacob wrote ‘supply veg to cafe’ on the pad.

‘What happened?’

‘A tire blew, the car veered off the road into a tree on a street just 200 yards from here.’

  ‘What is the name of the street?’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Do you know the name of the street?’

‘Church lane or something...’

‘Chapel lane.’ Jacob wrote ‘Chapel lane’ on the pad. ‘Go on.’

‘I bought a gold standard charm for my car about 3 weeks ago. Since my car is wrecked I’d say that at the least I’m due a refund.’

‘Were your tires charmed?’

‘What?’

‘Your tires, were they charmed? You said the tire blew and that caused the swerve.’

‘Wait a minute. I bought a gold standard charm. It supposed to cover the whole vehicle.’ Mr Hopwood’s voice started to rise. Jacob felt the tension in the room spike. He decided to try another tack.

‘Do you have insurance Mr. Hopwood?’

‘Do I... No, no I don’t.’

‘Ahhh.’

‘A gold standard charm is pretty much a guarantee. I’m a small business trying to save some cash and ...’

‘My, that’s unfortunate. There is no guarantee Mr Hopwood. I can fill in a compensation claim for you but it will take up to eight weeks to clear. I have to tell you that there will be an inspection of the vehicle and your claim may or not be honoured.’

‘That’s just not good enough. That car is my business, I have to travel. I can’t just shut up shop for eight weeks and expect my clients to wait for me. I bought the best charm available I expect it to work as advertised!’

‘Was the charm installed by a registered technician?’

‘It was installed by the official Manchester charm department. Is there someone more senior I can speak to?’

 ‘I’m the head of the complaints department, Mr Hopwood. My name is Mr Fancher.’ Sliding his hand across the desk, Jacob pulled a business card from a stainless steel dispenser. He presented it to Mr. Hopwood. The card confirmed Jacob as the genuine head of the complaint department even if his face said not.

‘Can I talk with you frankly Mr Hopwood?’ Hopwood looked the card over carefully. Then he looked up and into Jacobs’ eyes.

‘Yes.’

‘What do you know about the Ministry of Probability Manipulation?’

Hopwood looked confused. Jacob stood up and walked around the desk until he was in the no-man’s land between the desk and the double doors that led into reception. He perched himself on the huge desk and looked down on Hopwood in the visitors chair.

‘The department was started during the second world war.’

‘Wait a minute, I can’t see how...’

‘I’m trying to help you Mr Hopwood. Please just listen to me for a couple of minutes.’ Jacob was calm and condescending, just as Fancher had shown him.

‘The Second World War was a desperate time and ideas that would normally have been dismissed out of hand were given a little room to breathe. One of those was a robust scientific evaluation of luck. ‘

                The initial test was based on a number of injured pilots. The pilots were asked to play golf as a part of their recuperation. Golf is a skill based activity but it has so many random factors that even the most skilled players are tested every time they play. The group of pilots were discreetly divided into two groups, one group were taught ‘lucky’ rituals. After six weeks there was no difference between the groups. The results were as suspected and interest waned. But the study had proved to be popular and beneficial so it rolled on. Data continued to be collected when one of the pilots without a ritual came across the scores of a pilot with a luck ritual. The ‘lucky’ pilot was a better golfer and had good scores. The two pilots met in the mess that night and during the conversation the lucky ritual was passed on.

Four weeks later both men were scoring almost identical rounds. Other men were impressed by the improvement. More nights in the mess and the ritual spread along with other tips to improve performance. Gradually the improvement spread across all the pilots. The experiment was a disaster, the pilots had contaminated the results and the experiment was closed immediately.

A month later James Tully presented the results and the department began.

‘The truth is, that much of the work done in the Ministry is about the power of belief.’

‘That’s very interesting Mr Fancher but what has that got to do with my car?’ Mr. Hopwood had endured the tale and his patience was stretched to the limit. His voice took on a growl of frustration.

‘What I’m explaining is the placebo effect. Some things work because people believe they do'.

'If you think talking nonsense is going to get you off the hook...'

Jacob pointed at Hopwood. 'You've a business meeting today, correct?'

'Of course that's why this is so serious...'

'And you've chosen t wear a suit.'

'Of course, it's professional respect, which is more that I can say about...'

'But Mr. Hopwood, you're a grocer. You want to present yourself as a professional and earn a new contract, so you put on a rather good suit. But the suit doesn't tell your client anything about your ability to secure the best goods or deliver them on time.'

Hopwoods anger had seemed to stop building.

'You put on the suit because successful men wear suits. You want to give the impression to your client that you are a successful man, and the inference is that you are successful because you know your business very well. It's good thinking and I'd say that wearing the suit will give you an edge securing business from new clients. But the truth is the suit doesn't make you a better grocer and can't help you be a better grocer. The suit is a charm.'

Both men paused. Hopwoods eyes had softened as the thought sunk in.

And that is approximately the way charms work. They have no direct bearing on the function they are associated with but they do have an effect. The world is a large and complex place Mr Hopwood and we are exploiting its wonders without a full appreciation of the big picture. A charm will have beneficial effects and put to the test the odds are in your favour but there are no guarantees.’

‘So how the hell do you lot have the nerve to take good money from people for, for fake bullshit?’

‘Mr Hopwood there’s no need for bad language. You’re in good hands here. I’m going to take your data and pass it onto the Charms department. This will alter their outcomes and in future...’

‘Bloody hell!  I don’t really care about making things better for other people! What about my car, what about my business?’

‘What I was about to say, is that the kind of information you can supply is very valuable to the department, we can compensate you rather generously.’

‘I’ve never heard of that.’

‘It’s not something that we do very often. To be honest it’s very difficult to follow the process. I can help you with this...’

 Jacob saw a hope light in Hopwoods' eyes. He remembered that he was Fancher and suddenly the chair that hadn’t caused him any discomfort for the last seven minutes, bit hard into his legs. There was still a way to tie all this up neatly.

‘But to get your claim through faster you need to fill out a complaint form and you need to really lay into me. Remember I kept you waiting for the meeting, I’ve been rather rude and quite frankly I should have been more helpful when you’ve just had the trauma of an accident.’

‘You want me to complain about you?’

‘Believe me it’ll make more of an impact. Complain then send the claim the day after. Make sure you claim for the car, and for any business that you might have lost.’

‘OK. That’s, well that’s good of you.’

Jacob pressed the button on the phone.

‘Janey I need a claim form and a complaints form please.’

‘Do you need any help?’

‘No thank-you, Mr Hopwood just needs the forms please.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

‘Thanks.’

The two men sat in silence as the door opened and Janey brought the papers to the desk. Janey wasn’t worried. The forms were long and complex. To send a member of the public away with them was the same as giving them nothing. 'At least Fancher will be pleased' she thought and she smiled at the boy behind the desk.

‘Is there anything else Jacob?’

 ‘Mr Hopwood will be leaving soon will you call him a cab please, and he’ll need some money from petty cash to pay for it.’

Janey stared at Jacob a short time (Fancher never gave away petty cash) then left the room. As soon as the doors closed Jacob was working furiously on the forms. Navigating them was simple if you understood how the department worked. Jacob marked the sections that needed signing and coached Hopwood on the descriptive text. When Janey buzzed to say the taxi had arrived, the men had completed Fanchers resignation notice.

Jacob stood and shook hands warmly with Hopwood.
Hopwood turned to leave the room. Jacob glanced down at the note he'd written for himself. He restored the Fancher family portrait to its position on the desk and breathed the tension out.

 

As Hopwood stepped into the cab, Jacob turned to Janey and rolled the dice one more time.

'I've had a good day Janey, would you join me for a drink after work?'

She smiled at him.

Jacob winked.

It was too much. Her face returned to its office formality.

'Not on a weekday, Jacob. I'm not as young as I used to be'.

Snake eyes.

 

A week later Jacob Cursbey was relocated to the RnD division. A second 'routine-yearly' inspection moved in swiftly. Following the inspection Fancher took early and incredibly rapid retirement and Janey ran the department. She hired some new staff and started expanding the department into a new 'customer-satisfaction' role.

Jacob couldn't help but chuckle knowing his career path had been altered by a car accident on Chapel Lane.