Pathetic Service

So, on the 24th of July at around 6:30 PM, I was blessed with the soothing sound of water dripping from my ceiling—because clearly, my geyser decided it was time to throw a tantrum. Naturally, I did what any ceiling-crawling superhero would do: climbed up, confirmed the leak, climbed back down, switched off the geyser, and called MiWay Insurance. You know, the usual evening routine. The lady on the phone asked a few questions—standard stuff—and I mentioned I was slightly concerned that if the geyser actually burst, my ceiling might transform into a water feature. Her brilliant advice? “Switch off the water.” Revolutionary. I asked what time the assessors start their magical rounds. She said 7:30 AM. I asked if someone could come early. She said... nothing helpful. So, I called again at 8:40 AM on the 25th to ask when the plumber would grace me with his presence. At 9:16, I got a call saying an assessor had been assigned. “He’ll be there in 20 minutes,” they said. Cute. Twenty minutes passed. Then twelve more. He finally arrived at 10:00 AM and, with Sherlock-level deduction, announced: “The geyser has burst.” Groundbreaking.

Now, every other insurance I’ve dealt with would’ve swooped in, authorized the fix, and BOOM—geyser replaced, access paid, everyone happy. But MiWay? Oh no. I was transferred to another department to register the claim. I got impatient, went online, and—because the universe loves irony—I submitted it to the wrong claims department. Because why not add a little chaos? Eventually, someone called and the claim was registered. Meanwhile, I was on a WhatsApp call from 10:00 to 12:00, had to leave for another appointment, and got a call around 2-ish from a plumber who said he could still fit the geyser that Friday if I could get home. I couldn’t. Because life. He finally arrived on the 27th of July, fashionably late at 11:20. After inspecting the scene, he announced that the geyser wouldn’t fit through the trapdoor. Genius. They’d have to go through the roof. I said nope. They called the insurance, who said they could cut the trapdoor and cover it. Fine. They were there till 15:45, transferred the access, and vanished.

Then—plot twist—the same plumber called the next day asking when he could actually replace the geyser. We settled on Friday. I climbed into the ceiling again (because apparently I live there now) and noticed wires had been cut. Wires that were definitely not cut before. But sure, let’s pretend that’s normal. I asked for another assessor. He came, looked around, and said, “There’s no ceiling damage.” But wait—he did find a leaking copper pipe and a small container (which I had left there ages ago) now conveniently placed under the leak. He took pics, videos, and left to get materials. Pipe fixed. Then Monday evening, I climbed back up (again) and found the waterproofing had been sliced like a birthday cake—30 cm long, 10 cm wide. Took pics, sent them to MiWay. And guess what? Radio silence. Two assessors, one geyser, and a whole lot of head-scratching later, I’m still waiting. Three days to replace a geyser. Three. Days. For something that should’ve been a one-and-done. Honestly, I’ve seen reality shows with less drama.