Things have turned out well for once!
On the Amazon front, I have had a conversation about the phone I ordered on 15th January still not arriving, and a full refund of the £805.41 is now on its way. That's a great relief. I'm expecting it to reach my credit card account early next week.
Amazon had in the end acknowledged the likely situation, that the phone had gone AWOL and would never reach me. So, for instance, the delivery status changed to this on 31st January:
As you can see, the definite promise of an eventual refund.
By yesterday morning, that is, 3rd February, the delivery status of my order was this:
It may be lost! I didn't think I would actually see Amazon admitting to that. But now there was the absolute assurance of a refund. So that conversation I'd booked for yesterday morning was actually an easy one, although I still felt a release of tension afterwards.
It reminded me strongly of how it had been after any difficult but successful meeting with the Other Side, when I'd worked for the Inland Revenue. Especially a meeting to finalise a substantial contract settlement to include tax, interest and penalties, at the end of an important but confrontational investigation. I can think of two big ones in 1990 and 2005 where the modern equivalents of £430,000 and £460,000 were at stake, and things had to go absolutely right at the settlement meeting. I always felt a little light-headed with relief, when sitting back afterwards - the director or proprietor gone, and the contract left behind on the table, signed and dated. Watertight and enforceable.
I often speculated whether the director or proprietor was laughing or crying as they left the building. If we hadn't found out everything, and their main nest egg was still intact, they'd be laughing. If we'd got lucky, and taken away their retirement pot - their dream of a sunny sunset - they'd be crying, possibly suicidal. The accountant might also be glum: inevitably such a financial catastrophe meant the loss of the client, even if - as was often the way - the client's own pig-headed refusal to come clean had inflated the penalty into a sum that really hurt.
Sixteen years later, in my own sunny retirement, £805.41 meant every bit as much. I was very glad to get this email from Amazon:
Turning now to the Envirofone front, a quite different but still-satisfactory outcome.
I was faced with making a choice between accepting a very low revised offer, based on a screen fault I had never noticed and didn't really think was there, or having the phone back to sell on eBay for no guaranteed amount.
But then, a development! A friend said she'd like to have Tigerlily if I could get her back. The perfect solution. I have now turned down Envirofone's low offer, and Tigerlily is on her way back home. I'll repack her on receipt and post her to the friend, who is looking forward to having a flagship Samsung phone from 2017, plus the main accessories that came in the box, and a spare memory card.
I'm really cheered by this outcome. Tigerlily will go to a good home, and may enjoy many years of future use. It's like placing a favourite pet you can't keep with a new but caring owner.
Sequel on Amazon
Gosh, they repaid the money immediately! The £805.41 was credited to my credit card account on the very same day a refund was authorised. Well done, Amazon! My faith in you is restored. (I suppose it would have taken longer to reach a bank account)
Sequel on Envirofone
That came right too. They did the right thing. Tigerlily arrived back as promised, and after checking her over - she was still immaculate - I popped her gently in her original Samsung box, swathed that in bubblewrap, sealed it all in a stout box for posting, and went hotfoot to the local Post Office. The friend will have her very shortly.
