Smokescreens and saying sorry (2)

Today I drove off to the (no-parking) town centre to pick up the headed paper, compliments slips and business cards for my new business. Felt like a big step, bubbling excitement, long held plans turning to concrete reality.

It's been a long gestation. An artistic friend knocked up the graphic design, and passed it to me on CD. It then took me literally months of keeping an eye out for printers to discover, definitively, that there are none in my usual haunts. And to resort to a more focussed search, in the phone directory.  Crossing off those, 90% of them, a long hot stressful drive away in the Industrial Area. Searching in rather dodgy rundown tenements for the final three, two of whom had 'gone away', probably around the time the VAT return was due.  Finally finding one, which seemed fine, and conducted relatively amicable negotiations with the receptionist, who regularly dashed in to confirm with the proprietor, who was too posh to come and speak directly with me.  Circled all the choices I'd made and wrote it out in full myself on the invoice. Noted carefully how much deposit had been given. Dotted all the 'i's, crossed all the 't's.

It should have been a warning shot that the confirmatory email with copies of the predone artwork didn't arrive within the hour, as promised, nor within 12 hours, despite three chasing phonecalls. The proprietor was plausible, - it has been sent, to both your email addresses, maybe its the file size, - but doubts started growing. Next morning however, there they were (sent 30 minutes previously). But lets not harp or carp, lets not look back, onwards and upwards.  So I checked, made minor changes, checked the second proofs, agreed. 

And went today to pick it up.  To discover the cards are fine. But the headed paper and compliments slips are on the cheaper paper which I'd rejected. And looking again, the art work is different. ???? 

- What's this? You were pre-given the art work.  You emailed it back to me. We agreed it again.
- We decided we didn't like your art work. We redid it. It was a lot more work for us.
- But I, who was paying, DID like it. Had agreed it in writing.  What do you mean by changing it without consultation. This was my art work and my decision.  And your art work is not lined up, - look.

- And look here, at the preliminary quote the receptionist wrote out for me. You have given me the cheaper paper, half the cost, instead of the more expensive, which we agreed, have circled on the invoice, and for which you are charging me.
- Oh, the invoice. The invoice was wrong.  You can't have that.

If we had a honey-toned pop psychologist commentating this scene, - a bit like the one who comments on the body language in UK Big Brother, there'd be a lot to say.  Because I am behaving like a true European.  I went in person to agree these things, wanting to get it right.  Probably my first mistake.  My standards on this are high. I want it EXACTLY as we agreed. But that is too precise, too nitpicking for here, I fear.  A Kenyan friend, a water engineer, has said ruefully how difficult it is to hire employees who realise that good enough isn't good enough in his business. If a community water pump is spurting scarce water into the Sudanese desert because the wrong size flange has been fitted, that ISN'T good enough.  If an employee delivers a tender document which a team has spent a week preparing, an hour after the deadline, well in his business that can't be acceptable.  But even he, born and bred in the country, often can't get that concept over in words which are understood. 

And to make it better for me, in my cultural frame, the proprietor needs to say sorry. 'We'll put it right. It was my mistake. What a wally I' ve been.'  Just once. But sincerely. But this ain't gonna happen. Not in this lifetime.  And instead, what she does, true to her cultural background, is to attack me.
'We didn't like your art work.' 
And to stand on her source of power: 'Well you can't have that.'  (Translated in British English as: 'I'm going home now and I'm taking my ball too.')

We briefly had a part-time cook soon after we arrived.  She too would do this. When I queried that literally a whole bottle of washing up liquid that I had bought that morning, had been used in washing up one single-course meal for four people, she shouted:
'Well it wasn't a good washing up liquid. You got the wrong one.'
It really isn't easy doing work for people of another culture. Not for the worker, and not for the client either.

In my culture, you stand by the contract. I'd got a written, agreed quotation, had paid a 50% deposit, and an invoice on their headed paper. Had come in to pick up the work.  But, seemingly, here, that doesn't stand. Not that the proprietor was saying 'well my receptionist is only on her second day in the job.' Nor that she was saying 'Well I should have checked more closely.' No, what she persisted in saying was 'Well the art work you had was less good. And you can't have what you want anyway.'  (Even though we previously agreed it.)
I suppose that all I can say to myself, to bolster my view on how things SHOULD be, to calm myself down, is that I was heard, even if it wasn't acknowledged. That the products which had been done incorrectly were quietly stashed under the counter for pulping. That they will do, not what we agreed, in the quantities they'd agreed, but more of them, at a higher price, because, as she kept repeating 'You can't have that.'

An inspirational former boss used to have a saying, 'Manager tax', which was frequently levied. The first round of drinks at the celebratory meal - manager tax. The additional contribution to the leaving present for the not-very-popular colleague - manager tax. I've adapted it mentally to these chance extra charges in life here. 'Living in Kenya tax'.  I could have stormed off. But I need the stationery. I don't want to have to search for another printer, or drive to the Industrial Area. And really, short of a miracle, as the experience of my engineer friend shows, I'm not likely to find better, elsewhere.  It's just that for me, I try to make my word my bond. I try to be reliable. I aim to make good where I've fallen short.  And I really hate being attacked to create a diversionary smoke screen.