What A Day

Have you ever taken your car into a shop or dealership to be serviced, and then decided that you didn't want them touching your car without a second opinion?

Well, as of today, I can safely say that I have. And you know what? Adopting a kid from China may be easier than having the dealership release your own car to you before any work has been done.

Here's the scenario. The service engine light came on in our SUV yesterday morning. I called dh and told him I was going to have the car looked at and asked if there was a good time so he could meet us at the dealership and take us home. We arranged to meet, I took the car in, explained the problem and headed home.

They called last night to tell me that my transmission- the transmission that is barely a year old- was faulty. They were getting two different codes and it was going to cost a shit ton of money to fix. For a factory refurbished model. I told the tech that I'd talk to my husband and let them know. We decided to get the car today, and take it somewhere else for a second opinion. Here's where it started to just chafe my ass.

We came in this morning around 8 am to pick up the car. To be fair, I hadn't told them yet I didn't want them touching our car and that we would be picking it up the next day. So there was a little confusion at first about lost paperwork and incomplete work orders (duh- cuz I didn't ok them to do anything).

Finally, the cashier gets a hold of a manager, who tracks down my paper work. The cashier eventually tells me I'm good to go, they're bringing my car around. Because I'm an honest person (usually), I reminded her that I may owe a diagnostic fee.

Oh.

Manager comes around again. This time he speaks to me:

Manager: did they explain to you what was going on with your vehicle?

Me: yes. Faulty transmission and around $3000 to replace with a factory refurbished transmission.

Manager: Is that with the discount?

(should he be asking me about their discount policies?!!!)

Me: That's what the technician said.

He looks down at some sticky note and nods.

Manager: yeah, that sounds about right. Did she explain to you the warranty that comes with the transmission?

Me: (becoming very agitated) Yes. She did. But I don't want my car serviced.

Manager: (looking confused) So, are you going to have the transmission fixed?

Uh, did he really ask me that question?!

Me: yes. Just. Not. Here.

He gives the cashier the work order or something and walks away. The cashier begins ringing me up.

Cashier: Was it just too expensive?

Did she really just ask me that, too?!!

Why yes. Yes, she did.

Me: No. I'm just not convinced that our practically new transmission is the problem.

I may have been a little bitchy but, damn! I had been there fifteen minutes to pick up my car. And they were giving me the third degree, as if I were asking to take their car out for a spin. WTF?!!

Cashier raises her eyebrows, makes an "oh" with her mouth and tears the receipt off the machine for me to sign. By then I was too pissed to even act civilized. I just wanted my fucking keys to my car.

So, that was that.

And THEN I went to the bx to pick up some things. I stopped there because there is also a Starbucks in the mall and I'm a shameless addict who saves change left out and about by dh to cash in to buy more coffee. One stop shopping. This would be great!

First, an item I wanted to buy needed a price check. Ok. Someone comes back to tell me it's not for sale.

Me: but it was on the shelf…

Lady: it's just display.

Me: do you sell refills or ones that aren't just display?

Lady: no. We don't carry this item. It comes with the shampooer (I was trying to buy upholstery cleaner. The product was for Bissell. I have a Bissell…)

Me: but you don't sell refills?

Lady: no. this is just for display.

Since this encounter was pretty much riding on the heels of my exchange with the dealership, I was already aggravated. I may have been a little short with the cashier, who had absolutely nothing to do with the whole thing. But I was mad.

I take my shit and head out, hitting Starbucks on the way.

Barista: Welcome to yada yada, yada yada your order?

Me: I'll have a grande non-fat peppermint white chocolate mocha, please.

See, I wasn't so pissed yet that I forgot my manners completely.

Barista: I'm sorry but we're out of that right now.

Me: (trying to direct daggers from my eyes away from her heart) Are you serious?

Barista: I'm sorry. But we have regular mocha. Would you like to try that?

In my head: Are you fucking kidding me? A mocha is NOT the same thing as a peppermint white chocolate mocha. At all. They just have one word in common. They don't taste anything alike. Not to me, anyways.

Me: (shuffling the girls out the door) No. No, I don't.

I may have added, "have a good day." But everything at that point became hazy.

So, to recap:

Dealership sucks donkey balls

Bx sucks donkey balls

And How dare anyone compare a PWCM to a regular mocha?

Balls.