The Water Cooler
In the Summer of 2007, I purchased a water filter/cooler for the office in which I worked in Sulaymaniyah, Iraq. After browsing through the sprawling bazaar, I settled on a purchase which fit our needs. I was with our office translator, so I worked through him to ensure we got a good deal and, before we left with the purchase, I got a guarantee that, if we had any problems, we could return it for a new machine.
In the end, the machine leaked water and was unusable. I loaded the machine up and headed for the bazaar again. This time I went with another office employee. He was not the official translator, but he spoke both Kurdish and English. My proficiency with the Kurdish language was limited at the time and the storekeeper spoke no English. Before arriving at the small store, I made my objectives clear to my translator: trade our faulty machine for a new one and, if that is not an option, get our money back.
At the shop, the owner – the man who sold us the machine – was not present and we dealt with another man. This man told us simply that he could not accept the machine and we would need to come back at a later time. My translator agreed that this was best, but I refused to leave and tried to work through my translator to resolve the problem, but my refusal to return was clearly out of the bounds of normal Kurdish politeness and I could tell he was becoming uncomfortable.
Noticing this, I knew I had two options. Acquiesce and try to come back when the owner was available or take charge of the interaction myself. I settled on the latter and proceeded to achieve my objectives without getting too far away from Kurdish social norms.
The shop worker told me that they did not have a replacement machine. I told him I understood. If there was no machine, I would take the money I paid. He told me that he didn’t have any money and that I needed to come back later. I told him that later was no good; I am here now. He said that there may be another machine in storage, but he didn’t have the key. I told him that I understood the situation, but I wasn’t coming back at another time and I wasn’t leaving without a machine that worked or a refund. He again suggested that I should return at a later time and I politely refused.
Exasperated by me, the shopkeeper turned back to the translator and told him that there was nothing he could do. He had no machine, no money and no keys for the storage facility. The translator relayed this to me, but added “He’s lying.” He told me he was “excited” that I would push the boundaries and proceeded to press the shopkeeper on his own.
The shop keeper relented and took us to the storage facility – for which he had a key – and replaced our broken machine for a new one.
