Immigrants on the Move

The last seven months in Baku have been an introduction to many things, including my first experience in an ex-soviet country, but also my first time using Bolt/Uber. Those hip, trendy people out there might be shocked by this revelation, but not having lived in a city for a long time, it just hasn’t been a thing.

The basic Bolt taxis in Baku generally had cracked windscreens and no seatbelts. They cancelled more often than they turned up and the ride was like a scene from Grand Theft Auto. As a result of this I would often choose Comfort+ to guarantee no cracked windscreen, but even then I have gotten in and found there were no working seatbelts in the back, and it is not a country I want to be travelling in without a seatbelt.

Yesterday I walked the hour to a local shopping centre, with the intention of also walking back (got to get my steps in), until the rain set in and I bought too many things to carry all that way. So I decided to order a Bolt, I took a chance and went for the basic. On arrival the sweet driver named Sajid immediately asked me if I wanted my bags in the boot/trunk (honestly there weren’t that many) and as I popped them at my feet and got in he checked if I was happy for him to move off. I smiled at this kindness and nodded. He then asked me if I was happy with the temperature of the vehicle, if I would like any specific music playing during my journey, and if I had a preferred route I would like to take.

I’m sure he thought I was very strange as I sat in the back giggling at this chalk and cheese experience of a bolt pick up. He made small talk and asked how my day had been, this was the epitome of perfect customer service and was a pleasant shock to my system.

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. Aristotle.

When we first moved to France, I remember being annoyed at the customer service levels, frustrated that no effort was made, that the ‘niceties’ I was accustomed to in the UK didn’t exist. But I guess over time I have gotten used to the different service styles in each country, although I’m not sure I’d ever have gotten used to the restaurant service in Baku. Your meals would arrive at different times, your plate was either removed as you were still eating the last bite or not at all, and the starters would often arrive after the mains. It made Manuel on Fawlty Towers look efficient.

The thing I try to remember is there is no right or wrong, there is just what is ‘normal’ for that country and if you take it personally you’ll spend a lot of your overseas time being annoyed and offended. It also means those moments when you experience your style of customer service are all the more special for their rarity.