ODDS ‘N’ SODS — Service with a frown

I looked out the window of my office in the capital of Chile after reading the faxed daily report. It said the Vamco shovel in the North pit had broken down.

“There’s a minor problem — the Fiblemann bolt sheared and without it, the brakes are locked,” explained the pit supervisor when I called. “It’s a tad difficult to move and it’s in the way of the next blast. Might scratch the paint. Know what I mean?

“We had a spare bolt, but it was metric and it messed up the threads,” he said.

The sales manager at Vamco’s Chilean office was not exactly helpful.

“Fiblemann bolts do not break and we have no spares,” he stated.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “but this bolt did break, and we need another one real soon because your shovel is blocking our pit.”

“Your superintendent is lying,” he told me.

“Listen,” I replied, “The damn thing broke; now get me another one.” “I am a engineer in mechanics of the University of Chile and I am telling you that your superintendent is lying so that he won’t have to do his work. You should fire him.”

“I don’t give a damn what you are,” I told him, “Get me a Fiblemann bolt.” I passed the order on to our procurement people.

Our procurement manager, Humberto, told me the Vamco dealer did not think a replacement was required. “They don’t have one because it’s not necessary,” he said.

I phoned someone at Vamco Canada. “I’ll just slide by the airport and throw one on the plane. No problemo,” he said.

On Friday, our vice-president of operations telephoned from Toronto — I needed to know where the bolt was, and so I got our people in Canada to trace the shipment.

“The Fiblemann bolt is in New York City,” said the voice at the other end of the phone. “It was rejected by Chilean customs because the shipping value did not include the value of the box. All rejected shipments go to New York, and U.S. customs wants a $500 user fee before they will release the box.” I wanted to smash the phone.

I explained the problem to my friend at Vamco Canada and asked him to send another one, couriered to me personally.

A few days later, I was confronted by a Chilean police officer holding an open cardboard box. The Fiblemann bolt was inside, but there was more: whoever packed the box used some very explicit pornographic pictures as stuffing.

“Senor Sinkson, this box is addressed to you,” said the officer. “You are guilty of importing obscene material into the Republic of Chile, though a clemency appeal may reduce your jail sentence. Come with me.” It was a close call, but fortunately my employer managed to pull some strings to win my release.

— The author is a mine manager in South America.