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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2010-01-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 2010. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt Revenge is a dish best eaten cold. – Old French proverb Dave Carroll is the only civilian I know who ever won a battle in the Lost Luggage Wars. Dave’s a Nova Scotia musician who logs a lot of air miles travelling with his band, The Sons of Maxwell. Naturally, his guitar goes along for the ride. His custom-made Taylor acoustic travels in the hold, protected by a supposedly shock-proof case which is plastered with FRAGILE and DO NOT DROP stickers. Nonetheless, on a trip to Nebraska last year, United Airlines baggage handlers found a way to mangle the hell out of it. It cost Carroll $1,400 to repair the damages. But when he approached United for compensation, the company stalled, blustered and eventually told him to get lost. Dave Carroll didn’t Go Postal; nor did he get suicidal. He got even. Dave Carroll wrote a song. The three-part ditty is entitled United Breaks Guitars. You can see Dave perform the song on YouTube if you care to. You will be, as I type these words, approximately the 12 millionth visitor to do so. United’s mugging of Dave’s guitar, along with the company’s ‘tough luck, Bub’reaction turned into a musical goldmine for Dave Carroll and a public relations disaster for the airline. The massive public response to Dave’s ditty led United to eventually offer a raft of flight vouchers as well as payment for the guitar repairs. Carroll shrewdly suggested that United donate the money to charity instead. Final score: Dave Carroll, one; United Airlines, zilch. Most of us don’t fare nearly as well in the Lost Luggage Wars – my pal, Ms. D, for instance. A couple of months ago she landed in Mexico for a few weeks vacation. Her luggage, alas, kept flying. All the way to Australia as it turned out – although it took her several days to discover that. Well, what do you expect – Mexico, right? I asked her how bad it was, dealing with Mexican officialdom. “The Mexicans were most helpful and business-like,” Ms D told me. “It was Air Canada that was absolutely hopeless.” She talked to an AC rep who actually said, I am not the brightest fruit on the tree, but I’ll see what I can do. She asked to speak to his supervisor. She was told he was away until the following Monday. Eight days later her bags showed up. Could have been worse, I suppose. She could have been Marie MacLaughlin. Air Canada managed to lose Marie’s luggage for five days on a routine trip to Florida in December, 2008. On her return to Canada on Christmas Eve, the airline lost her bags again. In mid-January, last year, the airline’s tracking system was still reporting that delivery of her luggage was being ‘initiated’. Which was interesting news for Marie. Her son had driven to the airport, hunted down and picked up the bags in person two weeks earlier. This was after he’d tried for several days to get satisfaction through Air Canada’s toll-free lost luggage number. “They were saying that the bag was at the airport but they couldn’t confirm it, because they couldn’t talk to anyone at the airport.” The disconnect may be not unrelated to the fact that the toll-free number is connected to a call centre in India, some distance from the baggage carousels at Pearson International. The lesson Marie MacLaughlin has taken from the fiasco? Avoid Air Canada. “I will probably never fly on them again,” Marie says. She’d better think twice about switching her business to United. A couple of months ago, Dave Carroll took a United Airlines flight to a gig in Denver, Colorado. Dave’s no fool – he booked two seats on the flight -- one for his guitar. But his luggage? You guessed it – AWOL. It went on to Calgary and Fort Worth, Texas before he saw it again. Woody Allen couldn’t make this stuff up. Arthur Black Other Views The lost luggage wars Ontario has stopped appointing buddies of premiers and political friends to its key posts abroad and this has to be good for the province. Economic Development and Trade Minister Sandra Pupatello has announced the province has opened an office in Mumbai, its second in India. This makes 11 offices it has in other countries and they are now called international marketing centres, headed and staffed by experts and aimed almost solely at expanding trade. They replace those that often were used as havens to provide sinecures to friends and even attract a bit of glamour to the province’s operations. The first was established by its forerunner, the newly-created Province of Upper Canada, in 1792, making it one of the province’s oldest institutions. Its prime function was described as “communicating directly with His Majesty’s government on all subjects relating to the affairs of the province.” Later those running them were called agents general and being so far from home may have encouraged some to stray from the public service code. Word trickled back in 1873 the agent in London, Rev. Horrocks Cocks, whose profession and name suggest the utmost propriety, was accused of “misconduct of a serious nature.” The cleric was asked to explain and refused and the province felt this “diminished his usefulness” and relieved him of his duties, which is as much as this reporter could find out about this long ago incident. Such scandals have been seen rarely in government in all the years since. When this reporter visited Ontario House in London in the 1970s, it was in an impressive, historic building in one of that city’s swankiest districts and Ontario cabinet ministers dropped in and one left an impression he had a liaison with an attractive woman staff member for uses not in the official brochure. Later agents in London included Ward Cornell, better known as a commentator on Hockey Night in Canada, which may not seem a suitable qualification for the job. But he also wrote speeches that helped Progressive Conservative William Davis become and remain premier, and had his own communications company. Davis said, when pressed, he could think of no higher qualification for an agent general than to have successfully managed his election campaign and the legislature dissolved in laughter at the effrontery. A New Democrat MPP said he was puzzled by the appointment, but when he visited London, Cornell met him at the airport and gave him a nice tour of London. Other agents general there included Ross DeGeer, a former executive director of the Conservative Party, and Tom Wells, remembered particularly for being brave enough to stand at the door into a leadership campaign meeting, announcing “I am Tom Wells and I am asking you to vote for Allan Lawrence,” when it was a foregone conclusion the party would choose Davis. Wells became one of Davis’s best ministers and, if a former elected politician had to be appointed, deserved it as much as any. Agents general in Ontario’s Paris office have included the former high profile TV commentator and interviewer Adrienne Clarkson, who went on to become governor general and was known for her imperious style in that post. Clarkson had something of the same reputation in Paris, sitting in her lavishly renovated offices on the prestigious Rue Faubourg du St. Honore and ruffling feathers by saying she had to start from zero explaining Ontario is not just a patch of land beside the Great Lakes, as if previous emissaries from Canada had accomplished nothing. Agents general in Tokyo included Robin Sears, principal secretary to New Democrat premier Bob Rae, who sent him as far away as possible because others in his office could not get along with him. He recently emerged as a public relations adviser, trying to explain why Brian Mulroney collected money in unusual locations after he retired as Conservative prime minister. Those who head Ontario’s offices in other countries will now be less colourful – they will be marketing experts selling the province and be all business. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk As dawning light brightens bringing a sleepy mind with it, the notion of a long, leisurely rising leads to a lovely, lazy stretch. But wait. What’s happened here? Having believed that the holidays would mean late starts to my day I was rather surprised when the guy I share the room with, jumped out of bed like a jack rabbit on amphetamines well before the coffee pot was set to start brewing. Having asked him exactly what the heck he was doing, this slow morning mover should have been appeased to hear his plan. It seems that after years of listening to my harping (yes, let’s call it what it was) my warrior had set the wheels in motion for a renovation project which was to begin that very day. Albeit, just as our vacation was beginning. Since then, though life has not exactly continued as usual, the chaos hasn’t been as bad as I recall from past reno projects. And most certainly not as bad as they depict on the home makeover television shows. There have been no meltdowns nor stormy showdowns. Not even the irritability that tends to accompany living in disarray has been in evidence. Sure the project is in its early stages, but that was never before an indicator that peace and tranquility would dominate. From standoffs over something as mundane as the choice of paint colour, to more vitriolic contretemps sparked generally by exhaustion, we have been known to raise the roof for reasons from start to finish of our home renovation endeavours. However, it’s been a while since we’ve embarked on any ambitious decorating work and I’m noticing changes beyond those transforming the room. I suppose it could be suggested that having reached middle age we lack the energy to turn the inconsequential into hyperbolic drama, but I prefer to think we’ve just gained perspective. Yes, perhaps we have lost the vim and vigour passionate youth provided. But if that’s the case then I’m happy to have gained these added decades and the common sense that comes with them. Seeing the importance of some things has finally become second nature, things like taking deep breaths or turning around and walking away. Where once my exhausted hubby would come home from a long day’s work to begin a long evening’s work on whatever project was on the go, he has realized that it’s okay to relax when you’re tired, that the work will indeed still be waiting another day. And I have learned that the sky doesn’t fall and the sun will come up if a day passes without any progress on his get-it-done list. Bare walls, torn off trim and furniture pushed into the middle of a room I need to use may all be bad feng shui, but I assume the energy will flow elsewhere, close my eyes to the mess, and instead dream ahead to the promise. Where once our very different tastes in decor seemed insurmountable we have learned that with time and patience we can generally find a way to meet if not in the middle, then at least only slightly off centre. And if one of us does gain extra ground on some point, we know it’s only fair to cede some territory on the next debate. So as I sat the other night watching a television parked askew, from a couch pushed back from the bare drywall, I had to smile thinking of that impatient young woman I once was and what a smart old girl she’s become. Experts replace politicians’ buddies Smart old girl Letters Policy The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor. Letters must be signed and should include a daytime telephone number for the purpose of verification only. Letters that are not signed will not be printed. Submissions may be edited for length, clarity and content, using fair comment as our guideline. 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