The charger on my cell phone broke; a 2-millimetre square doodad on my expensive Swedish cell phone's charger snapped off this morning instead of removing itself smoothly from the phone. My phone was Lorena Bobbitt to the charger's John.

At first I was confused. My phone is European, Scandinavian even. Scandinavia = quality! The simple phrase "Imported from Sweden" evoke images of sturdy milk jugs, stalwart Viking vessels, and ABBA, the group that could do no wrong (except for the insipid "Thank you for the Music").

Dreams of pine trees, reindeer, and lithe, blonde, milk-fed, Swedish lads clouded my brain as I surveyed my Ikea bookshelves that collapsed in a heap after 3 years of service and are now held up by walls and wishful thinking; my Ikea kitchen table that got all permanently wobbly-kneed the first time I put my groceries down on it; my Ikea bed that collapsed after (during!) only one night that was only slightly more active than all other nights.

The realisation was slow in coming that I shouldn't be too surprised that my Sony Ericsson Z500A - that is, by the way, spectacularly user unfriendly - should snap into pieces. I mean, the Swedes and their quality, eh! Aren't they also responsible for Ace of Base? A pox on you, Sweden!

But instead of taking my anger and frustration out on an entire Scandinavian country - and perhaps its neighbours (I have my eye on you, Finland) - because of a few individuals - because it would be just nutty to blame an entire Scandinavian country and perhaps its neigbours for the actions of a few individuals, I decided to trek to the people who sold me the shoddy falling apart Sony Ericsson Z500A cameraphone that takes tiny, pointilist photos that look like a Georges Seurat on a bad day. I may as well have been speaking in Swedish to them, or perhaps Finnish.

Even though I am a "valued customer" who has never paid a bill late even in the roughest days of unemployment/no freelance with a piece of still-waranteed merchandise they sold me, Rogers were unwilling simply to replace the silly little charger and instead lead me on a "compromise" that has left me phoneless for eight weeks. Because of a 2mm square piece or plastic, my entire phone has to be shipped away. The wonders of modern technology and the corporate approach to client services (or "care", as they refer to it as if we were all in on the joke).

I should never have signed a contract with them. And my friends wonder why I'm afraid of commitment.