Those keen readers of this blog will recall that one of the first items we bought was a washing machine. But as there are at least five laundries within a five minute walk from our apartment, we don’t bother washing our bed sheets at home.
The nearest laundry is the ‘Starry’, just a fifty metre walk away. It is a narrow shop with a counter in the front. I guess the washing machines are behind, but all that can been seen through the doorway are three men with industrial irons pressing clothes all day long. Opening times are 7.30am until around 10pm daily except Friday when the open at 4pm, so it is both a long day and a long week.
There is an Indian man on the counter who books in the laundry using a printed laundry list. He writes your name on the top of the sheet… he misheard my name, writing it as AIN. I am not sure how, but each time I come in he remembers my name and writes it incorrectly on the sheet.
They did OK for the first wash… the sheets and pillow cases came back clean, pressed and folded. On the second wash, the duvet cover came back with a pinkish hue, so it went back to be rewashed and fortunately came back white.
Due to the colour mishap I thought I’d try another establishment. This time the wash was clean but two pillow cases were missing. A few days later they said they had found them. I collected the package but when I got home, they clearly substituted another set.
I am not too keen on second hand pillow cases so we disposed of them and I went back to Starry Laundry. I have now told them how to spell my name correctly.
January 31, 2013 at 6:05 pm
So you’re getting your bedsheets professionally laundered and ironed now? … Bespoke shirts in various fabrics lovingly hand-crafted by local artisans … high-end 4x4s … red carpet film premieres … first-class Dreamliner travel to exotic destinations for just one day … What next? A downstairs staff? Footmen and valets? It’s all getting very twenty-first century “Downton Abbey”, but with sand. Even in Belize, we get those British dramas. We know all about the Crawleys.
PS. Ain is “eye” in Arabic — you could probably check this, living in an Arabic-speaking country and everything (it’s also a water source, if memory serves). Maybe your Indian chap isn’t being a dunce. In Doha he can’t have too many customers with the baby blues.