Watch

Home again

Are you sitting comfortably? Let me tell you the story of my Mondaine wristwatch.

It was given to me fifteen years ago by my immediate family. It suited me from the first second it ticked. A simple, easily-read face with no distractions like a date dial or the time in Tokyo. An elegant, unfussy watch that tells the time accurately.

Every two years its battery runs out and I need to have a new one put in by someone who knows what they are doing. For the past ten years, I have gone to a jeweller's shop down the road from us at Hunter's Bar and in all that time nobody else has interfered with the watch. Normally it's a half hour job. I drop the watch off, toddle off for a drink or some lunch and then pick it up a bit later - job done.

At the start of July, this summer gone, the watch had stopped ticking again so I went to the jewellers and as usual I was asked to come back in half an hour. However, when I returned, the friendly middle-aged woman who was doing the job said there was a problem. She couldn't get all the tiny screws out and two of them just kept turning round.

"Where did you last have a new battery fitted?" she said.

"Here," I replied. "And it was you who did it!"

"Well. Something's gone wrong and we're going to have to send it off to our watch specialist."

"How long is that going to take?"

"Three to four weeks."

"What? That seems like a long time just to get a new battery but okay I will go with it."

"First, he will have to tell us if he can actually do the job."

Anyway, four weeks later, at the very end of July, the shop phoned me back to tell me that their specialist could indeed do the job and did I wish to proceed? What? Of course I wanted to proceed. I asked how long it would take and the woman at the other end of the line said "three to four weeks... if the specialist can source the required screws".

At the end of August I phoned them back to say, "Where's my watch?" 

They said, "Oh it takes six to eight weeks. We weren't expecting it back yet!"

Meantime up at the pub quiz, my friend Mick was advising me to play hell with them and demand my watch back but I explained that I just didn't want the aggro. If I lost my rag with them, I knew that I would regret it and the resulting scene would play out over and over again in my mind. Experience can be a great teacher. Better to stay calm and patient, eventually get my watch back and then never visit the jeweller's shop ever again.

This morning, the long awaited phone call happened. The sloth-like specialist had finally returned my watch and I could pick it up - almost three months after  I had taken it in. Oh joy of joys! Ring the church bells! Beat the drums! Christ is risen! 

I strolled down the hill to Hunter's Bar and as I told the smiley woman behind the counter, it felt like reuniting with an old friend. Hello Mondaine - how have you been? I have missed you mate!

There might have been an argument that the jeweller's shop should have paid for the service since the issue with the tiny screws was probably caused by them but I just did not want the hassle. I paid up and left with no intention of ever going in there again. It has been quite a saga, I can tell you.