“The number (you have blocked) belongs to my mother and she allowed me to be using it,” said a man in his mid-40s when he presented himself at the Airtel customer care shop at the Village Market yesterday.

He wanted the line restored in his loving mother’s absence.

“You must come with your mother so that she can give her consent,” the customer care officer on the other side of the glass screen said to the man, who, clearly, did not find the information amusing. There was no way he was going to drag his poor mother, and her identity card, to Village Market when his word could be his bond.

“Is there an alternative?” he asked.

“Yes, you can register a new line under your own name,” she replied.

Again, this information did not go down well with the subscriber. After prevaricating and asking numerous other questions, he eventually paved the way for a pot-bellied motor vehicle salesman who was using another line to confirm to all and sundry that he had just closed a sale.

“The owner of this line is out of the country,” the bellicose salesman said in a high-pitched voice. “He will not be back for the next one week and we need to use the line.”

There was a hint he was using his size, voice and deals he was transacting to intimidate the customer care officer. “Ask him to come with his ID when he returns,” she said unperturbed.

The man stepped out in a huff before sauntering back with an air of importance. “Will a certified copy of his ID do if I come with it?” he asked.

“Unfortunately not,” he was told.

“What if it is a company line?” he persisted. “In that case come with the certificate of registration,” the customer service officer said courteously. Still, the man was not happy with the answers he was getting.

“Where he is, he cannot make it to an Airtel agent,” he said, clearly frustrated.

However, nothing could sway the officer who had all the answers at her fingertips.

The man behind him stood to protest his innocence. He was ushered to a different desk where his case was addressed calmly as the line outside the shop started growing longer, every customer in the line ready with his or her story of woe.

Unfortunately, I never got to hear them because, ahem, I was next in line.