My Samsung Tab 3 died on me, absolutely refused to boot up, after I brought it home barely two months ago.
After a two-week internal struggle (aka denial), I finally got around to schlepping its lifeless carcass down to the service centre in Plaza Singapura over the weekend. And it was packed, much like your regular general practitioner’s clinic on weekday mornings, except nary a white coat was in sight; instead the staff wore black Samsung-emblazoned polo-shirts.
Sitting across Nazeer, the diagnostician assigned to me, I could only watch helplessly as he turned Tabby (yes, I named my phone) over this way and that looking for scratches and possible puncture wounds. I was reminded that even though Tabby was still under warranty, if she was subject to any malicious bodily harm – and my diagnostician proceeded to list the possible scenarios: manslaughter (smashed), drowning (immersed in water), third-degree burns et cetera et cetera – there would be a price to pay.
After what seemed like an interminable interrogation – Nazeer firing questions and in turn meticulously documenting the how, who, when, where, what happened while I listened in on the sob-stories of others; I can’t help it, bedside manners were very much lacking, no partitions to protect us, the caretakers of Samsung devices, nor our modesty when we invariably shed a tear or two – Nazeer gathered his report and stapled the sheaves of paper with a loud click.
I steeled myself for the prognosis, “Miss Yap, we will be retaining Tabby and your charger. It may take us two or three days to get back to you,” but failed to master my legs, and stumbled unsteadily out of my chair (on hindsight, my boots might have been pinching).
Before exiting the service centre, I noticed my hands – a hallucination perchance, caused by perhaps exhaustion, perhaps grief – were illuminated with an almost benign, albeit blue benediction… I looked up and there it was: the Samsung sign in big blue neon. Oh why not, I’ve got nothing to lose at this point, and offered up a prayer, “Yes, I used to be a devout iPhone user, but I swear I’ll sing the praises of your name if you deliver my Tabby safe and sound back into my palms.”
[Writer’s note: I’m happy to report Tabby came back to me safe and sound. A big thank-you to Nazeer who insisted on the thorough check-up!]