Take a Number… and Use It
I drop my car off at the shop at 11:30 for a 2 p.m. appointment, just in case they can get it in sooner.
“Should take about an hour,” he says.
I make a point of leaving my cell phone number.
He makes a point of taking my cell phone number.
I watch him write it down, clearly, next to my name on the appointment book.
Time passes. 2 p.m. arrives. 2:30 p.m. 3. 3:30.
I call.
Voicemail.
Leave message.
Wait.
4 p.m.
Call back.
“Oh yeah, it’s here whenever you want to pick it up.”
I cannot remember one time when they actually have called to tell me it is ready.
When I leave a number, I always ask “Can you call me when it is ready?” so it should be clear that I’m not leaving it just in case the car happens to explode while under their care.
They always take the number.
They always write it down.
They never use it.
If you have no intention of using it (and I have several years’ worth of evidence to support that theory), why take it?
I always end up feeling like I should have called at 2:30, and if it wasn’t ready, then at 3. But I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.
Clearly the most efficient solution is for them to call me when the car is ready, rather than have to answer several inquiring phone calls from me (and I have, in the past, kept calling and been told “No it’s not ready yet” without them ever asking for my number).
Arghabargh.
