Repair the trust deficit
I T IS not easy to say “goodbye” after being faithfully served the most delicious meals for 30 years without a whimper.
Succulent roast chicken and leg of lamb, light textured Madeira cakes for afternoon tea, nankhatai and methi lagan for Deepavali treats, cheesy vegetable lasagne and perfect potato pies.
“All good things must come to an end,” is a saying supposedly coined by Geoffrey Chaucer in 1374 – and thus it was in a melancholic mood that I drove our trusted German-built oven to the municipal dump last weekend.
I felt a lump in my throat as I took one last look at this beautiful kitchen appliance, its chocolate enamel gleaming in the morning sun.
Deep inside the solid metal mass, the heart had given up the ghost after three decades of faultless service. Given its age and country of origin, it was deemed not economically feasible to repair.
A locally-manufactured oven with all the bells and whistles has taken its place. Actually, it occupies half the space of the old oven, which also had a warmer section, is half the weight of its predecessor and is not as sturdily built.
At R4 000, the new oven cost eight times more than the old one. I am prepared to bet my bottom dollar that the new kid in the kitchen will start playing up long before JZ has cleared his desk at the Union Buildings.
It is weird how more money no longer buys more value – apart from well-aged red wine and single malt whiskey, that is.
I searched on Gumtree for somebody working with built-in cupboards to give me a quotation to cover the 60cm x 30cm extra space that remains where the old oven used to fit. A piece of white melamine off-cut and some wood glue would do the trick.
Fortunately my former career as a sceptical journalist has given me a strong heart. I did not keel over when I was quoted R750 – in all probability more than what the solid-oak trimmed cupboards in the whole kitchen and scullery originally cost.
I reminded the Clare Estate chancer that I did not ask for a replica of Noah’s Ark to be built. He must have latched on to the fact that I live in a suburb once favoured by upper income white families in the days of apartheid. Never mind that I also shop in the Woolies 60% discount sale and buy swimming pool chemicals in bulk.
I also told this scheming opportunist that the price of a 276cm x 185cm sheet of quality melamine is R250. This would fill more than 12 gaps such as the one I wanted covered. This rationalisation did not help get me a reduction, but I was not prepared to be exploited.
How wondrous the value to be got from home appliances and other household items from a bygone era.
Our microwave oven was purchased when our first-born was still being bottle fed. He is now 34 years old – and the microwave oven is still as good as new. I am sure the manufacturers will be happy to pay me big bucks to take it away and see where they went wrong and to ensure such long-lasting quality is never repeated.
You can’t seem to buy anything today that lasts more than a few years without breaking.
There was a time when incandescent light bulbs – the standard bayonet globe we all remember from our childhoods, and sometimes even grew creepers in them – lasted at least five years.
Now they have been replaced by energy-efficient, long-life, high-priced compact fluorescent lights (CFLs). For “long-life”, read “not more than six months”.
But for corrosion which was a nuisance at the coast, yesteryear’s cars were changed on average every 10 years. Today, cars are replaced as soon as the three-year service plan expires. Maintenance has become ridiculously exorbitant.
In the mid-70s, you could buy a full-house sedan for what it costs to install a basic auto sound system today.
In 1974, a brand-new Mercedes Benz 230 cost just over R5 000 and a VW Beetle 1600 cost just under R2 000 – the latter figure being approximately what you would currently pay to host a three-course dinner for six at an upmarket uMhlanga restaurant.
The same year, a litre of 98-octane petrol cost 11 cents at the coast. Today a litre of 95-octane petrol costs R12.56.
Even taking inflation into consideration, the rise in prices is absurd. Salaries have not shown a concomitant upward trend to match spiralling commodity prices.
A few days ago, my vehicle’s agent quoted me R4 400 for a lube service and safety check on my Japanese SUV.
This included oil, oil filter, sump plug washer and consumables. But for checking – or claiming to have checked through a tick-box approach – on the condition of certain components such as brakes, tyres, windscreen wipers, light bulbs, etc, no other adjustments or replacement of parts would be carried out for the R4 400.
I got the same job done to my satisfaction at an accredited independent workshop for R1 200.
Some consumer journalist will do well to find out whether in fact the sump washers are actually changed on every vehicle serviced at a vehicle dealership.
When I asked about consumables which vary between R80 and R120, I was told this is for rags used to wipe off any excess oil on the engine. For R80, I can buy enough mutton cloth to wrap around all the mummies in Giza, Egypt.
Without doubt the money that is drained from consumers (pun unintended) by charging for so-called oil sump washers and consumables must alone pay a substantial portion of the wages of labourers on the workshop floor.
I am afraid the whole world is facing a serious trust deficit. Every direction you turn, somebody is trying to shanghai you through deceitfulness, deception and dishonesty.
We also have a trust deficit in this country as big as, if not bigger than, the number of leaked Gupta e-mails and documents.
Gone are the days when relationships were forged on the anvil of trust.
For a business to be profitable, it must have the trust of its customers. Trust is the glue that keeps marriages – and families and organisations – together.
How can you trust a car dealer who charges R80 for rags? Or Telkom, whose mission promise is to “connect you to a better life” but takes weeks on end to repair a faulty telephone line.
There is a definite trust deficit in politics. The dishonesty and stupidity of many politicians is what they will be more remembered for than their accomplishments on behalf of the electorate.
The trust deficit caused by President Jacob Zuma’s leadership – and which has robbed a promise-filled South Africa of faith, hope and the public purse – will take more than two whole generations to repair.
The men and women who constitute the masses are beginning to question the trustworthiness of those who hold political power.
They are asking how much can they count on those who govern them to use their power in the best interests of the people, ahead of their party or themselves. Who can blame them such mistrust? The character of every member of the cabinet has been blemished by indiscretion of varying degree.
The Walter Sisulu University student who should have known better to return the windfall when R14m was inadvertently paid into her bank account, instead of going on a spending spree, is the product of the national trust deficit.
The increasing spate of killings caused by political rivalry stems from a lack of trust between people.
The media is also facing the challenges of the trust deficit. “Fake news” has become its own headline.
It behoves each of us to work towards eradicating the trust deficit. Rebuild on the core values of integrity, competence, reliability and concern which are the cornerstones upon which trust depends.
Fortunately, I still have a few service providers I can trust implicitly. Kreesan, my butcher, will tell me straight out if he has run out of a certain grade of meat – he will not misleadingly substitute; Kuben, my pharmacist, will go out of his way to deliver emergency medication; Yogan (he cannot spell), who provides monitoring and armed response services, has not failed me; and Sugan’s character is watertight – like his plumbing. Woefully, such good people are now few and far between.
Finally, I don’t mean to sermonise. But I’m embarrassed by my generation acting like idiots. What legacy will we pass on to those who will come after?
Instilling some morals and values in how we live would be a small but sure step towards making our lives better for ourselves and those around us.