Originally, I had taken my car in to OVERPRICED&LAZY Body Repair for an estimate—which was about $1000 for a couple of scratches on my bumper. What did I care?—it was covered by TheOtherGuy’s Insurance. When I finally dropped it off, I also got a rental car (also paid for by TheOtherGuy’s Insurance). When I asked Ms. I’M TOOBUSY RECEPTIONIST how I would know when my car was done, she assured me, “Don’t worry, be happy!” Well, she actually said they would give me hourly, daily, minute-by-minute, blow-by-blow status reports. If she didn’t say that, she at least implied they would call me often to keep me “abreast” (a-breast—funny word choice—since most men don’t want a-breast unless it’s attached to a-woman—she wasn’t too busy to flirt! until she realized I did NOT own the Silver Cloud Rolls Royce outside). Anyhow, days, weeks, months went by. If it wasn’t that long, it felt that way. I NEVER heard a word from OVERPRICED&LAZY Body Repair.
It was to take two days. My car would be done in two days, no more than 48 hours. Therefore, when 49 hours passed, I called. That was TODAY. I spoke with Ms. I’M TOOBUSY RECEPTIONIST, “Oh I tried to call you,” she said, “but it rang and rang (twice), so I didn’t leave a message, I couldn’t be bothered if you weren’t home. But I called the next day—and did leave you a message, this MORNING. Hope that’s okay. Is that why you’re calling? Did you pick up the message? I would have let you know yesterday if YOU were home and had ANSWERED the phone!”
“Was my car done yesterday?” I asked, fearing I would have to pay a FULL day of car rental out-of-pocket. This included upgrading to a full-size car because the TheOtherGuy’s Insurance ONLY covered a go-cart, but I owned a midsized car. I was getting repairs for an accident where SOMEONEELSE hit me—so how on Earth was I going to feel safe driving a car without a six or eight cylinder engine, side impact air bags, traction control, a roll bar and the sheet metal of a tank to protect me from incoming BADDRIVERS. So, I opted for a full-size sedan—my ONLY other option (Bet the kickback those car rental guys make in a year pays for their kid’s educations at Harvard). “Will I have to pay another full day car rental out of pocket?” It was like a second monthly mortgage payment.
“Well, I don’t know,” Ms. I’M TOOBUSY RECEPTIONIST, said. “Here’s the car rental phone number. They’re out right now.” Then she hung up on me—before I could ask when they might be back, if they were out in front renting a car, away at lunch, or if they’d taken the Mustang Cobra rental out for a little drag-racing. She would know. She could see them. The car rental guys SAT only two feet from her. Yet, she couldn’t tell me when they would be back. Or take a message. She was just too busy.
Luckily, I was able to get TheOtherGuy’s Insurance to pay an extra day for my car rental. But when I went to pick up my freshly painted, sans scratches car at OVERPRICED&LAZY Body Repair, I had to deal with Ms. I’M TOOBUSY RECEPTIONIST. She literally ran me through the paperwork, “This tells you this, this tell you this, I think it means this, but you can read it later, and there is a warranty but I don’t know what it says, something about 30 days and the life of the vehicle, or that your car will only live 30 days now, I’m not sure. You’ll just have to read it, plus I suggest you have your lawyer read it. Now you’re done—you can leave.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll call someone.” She made a call.
When she got off the phone, I asked, “What about my rental.”
“I’ll take the keys and give them to the rental guys.” I SURE hope they got them before the end of the day, OR they will charge ME for an extra day (and I can’t afford another mortgage payment THIS month).
Five minutes passed.
“Do you know when my car will be ready?” Did someone steal it, or were the rental guys joyriding in it?
“I called. You heard me. He said he would do it. Now leave me alone. I’m JUST too busy to deal with the likes of you.” She didn’t say this, but she sure MEANT it.
Ten more minutes passed. Did someone total my car? Or was it lost forever in a sea of red Nissan Maximas getting body repairs?
“Will my car be here soon?” I wanted to beg...”please…I’m on lunch and I only have an hour…of which I’ve spent 15 minute here, so far.” But I didn’t.
“I’ll call again. You’re just so annoying. Please don’t bother me again. It will get here when it gets here. If you hadn’t been so stupid in the first place, your car wouldn’t need repairs. But you were dumb and had an accident. Oh, it was the other guy’s fault? Well, then you should have AVOIDED being in front, to the side, or ANYWHERE near such a bad driver. I will make ONE more call—that’s it—after that, find the keys and get the damned car yourself.” Again, she didn’t say this, but she meant it.
Three more minutes and then my car finally pulled up. The driver INSISTED upon shaking my hand.
“Yes, thank you for bringing my car around, AFTER finishing your lunch, making me miss mine, and giving me twenty minutes to read TWOYEAROLD car magazines. I NEVER get a chance to do that, EXCEPT at the barber’s and I SO needed a break today. Plus, NOW I must speed back to the office (RISKING another accident) or get written up for being late. But hey, yeah, it was GREAT meeting such a lazy SOB. Have a good day.” No I didn’t say it, but I thought it VERY loudly!
And then I got into my car—and the seats and mirrors were all askew. If my car had electronic seat memory it would have been easy, but it took me five minutes, rolling around in my seat, pawing at it, and using my nose to get it just right before I could drive off in a huff! But I did shoot them the bird, MENTALLY, as I squealed out of the parking lot.
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