On Saturday night I had an experience that has become all-too common among Londoners – and, indeed, other city dwellers. My phone got stolen.
I had been walking home, looking at my phone (stupidly), when a boy on his bicycle snatched it out of my hands. My brain took a second to process what had happened. And then my first instinct was to scream and shout for help.
Although the crime did not exactly warrant screaming – it is not the most serious – I was in effect trying to draw attention to him and encourage someone to come out, stop him and/ or call the police. “F**k you” I yelled down the street, interspersed with screams. I also sprinted after him for about 100 metres. I really, really didn’t want my phone to go.
Maybe the most disappointing thing about this experience was that no one did anything when I screamed. I wonder what if it had been a more serious crime? Victims get blamed when they don’t call for help. But nothing happened when I did.
My neighbourhood is a very woke area. It has signs boasting that it’s anti-fascist – and there are other symbols of social justice. Yet when it came to the crunch, no one was there. Perhaps a more sympathetic explanation is that people are desensitised to petty theft, so frequent has it become.
Afterwards some women stuck their heads out of their windows. “Are you okay?” One said. I clearly wasn’t and was crying. “I’m coming down”, said another. But she didn’t, and I just went home.
Luckily I have an amazing support network. I was able to get help quickly from my parents when I got home and was touched by everyone who checked I was okay. Despite this being such a “normal” crime, people were incredibly empathetic on Twitter and Facebook – and took it very seriously that I was upset.
Too many people replied that this crime had happened to them. They used the words “shaken up”, “gutting” and other terms I, through the hard way, now fully understood. I hate how accepted theft has become. It makes me feel that we’re too soppy about it, generally (“well if only we hadn’t made cuts to the youth club”), and it’s something I have resultantly become more interested in as a political matter.
The second part of this piece is about the admin that followed – which was almost worse than the event. On Sunday the following morning I went to my phone store, thinking I could get mine replaced right there and then, in what turned out to be a very optimistic estimate.
When I went in and told the staff what had happened, they came across as nonchalant – as though they needed their morning coffee first – and got me to phone their insurance line. One of the most “catch 22” things about having your phone stolen is that you have to phone for help. As I live alone and cannot borrow a phone, I was reliant on using the shop’s.
Next problem. The phone line at the store was close to inaudible. When I pointed this out to the staff, they told me there was nothing they could do. “But you’re a phone shop,” I replied. For me to just about hear the line, the security guard had to close the store door, turn down the music and let me stand in a corridor next to the staff room.
I went to the phone shop three times in total. After my second trip, I emailed a claim, via my Gmail account, to the insurers. I got a receipt and learnt that it would take two days to process. Then I got a new problem: I got locked out of Gmail, as I have always used two-factor verification – and had no mobile to log in.
So off I went again to the shop – to phone the insurers and tell them to use another email (which I wasn’t logged out of). This time the phone line was even more inaudible, but I could make out the woman who answered telling me that they had not received my insurance claim (a day after I had sent it) – and could I send it again?
I am afraid, feeling very fed up with things, I cried. For the first time, the staff in the phone shop seemed to care. A staff member offered me a tissue and lent me her own phone for the insurers to call back on, which was slightly more audible.
During my time getting this sorted out, I had to listen to another stressed-out woman in the shop (as well as a preacher yelling outside!). I won’t go into too many details of the woman’s complaint, but she had been charged £400, and was – as you might imagine – upset, to the point of threatening she “wasn’t very nice” when she was in this state. Being in the shop for three days honestly made it look more like a counselling service – with customers constantly venting to despondent staff.
Even though I found the staff unhelpful – the man serving coffee outside was more sympathetic to my situation – I don’t blame them for being so checked out, as they were often middlemen/women between angry/sad customers and bureaucracy. So often these companies boast of their social justice credentials – their commitment to climate change and helping people and so forth – but the human aspect of their service has become non-existent.
We hear that banks end up “too big to fail”, but perhaps organisations have also become “too bureaucratic to help”, with staff that lack soft skills – because there is no incentive – and have little impact on the outcome for the customer. Central bureaucracy calls the shots, with the customer ever short of power to get what they need, and ever bewildered by their contracts. With the growth of big tech, I wonder how much further this imbalance will go.
Again, this made me think about matters bigger than my phone (a replacement of which I am still waiting for…).