Sitting down for the first leg of a twenty-five hour journey sucks. Mentally it’s difficult for me to know I’m stuck in a smelly flying tube for that length of time. As you can likely tell from previous interactions, I’m not much of a people person. I don’t strike up conversations on flights, nor do I enjoy being shoulder to shoulder with strangers for that length of time (or indeed any length of time).
I choose escapism – I have a phone filled with podcasts and music, and a painfully expensive pair of headphones that allow me to ignore the roar of a jet engine for as long as possible. And wine, plenty of it.
Imagine my fucking delight as I pull out my immaculate, rarely used, never out of the bastard box Bose QC25 to find out that one of the cups is no longer working.
I didn’t panic. I checked that the wiring was ok at both ends. No change. I changed the battery. Nothing. I searched some of my phones settings to make sure I hadn’t ballsed anything up. They were just fucked.
It turns out that there is an inherent manufacturing fault with the first generation of Bose QC2s, which means that sooner or later the right ear cup just dies. You better hope that it does so in the warranty period or Bose put their dirty (German?) cock right in your ass.
I’ve shot Bose a succinctly worded email explaining my displeasure at the situation. I’m expecting nothing back, although I will update if they do respond positively. I’d be less upset if I found out before I stepped foot on the plane, or if I hadn’t treated them with fucking kid gloves all the time. Or if they hadn’t cost near £300.
Bollocks.
I’m stationed in a third world country for the next few days, but I did notice a Bose Service Center as I was chauffeured around. I might go in there and cause some white man drama. Sons of bitches.
Hold on, I just found out that Mr. Bose was Indian. I’m in India. Imma fix this