Hey, won’tcha play…another somebody done somebody wrong song? Because really, I feel like someone should have been serenading me with those exact lyrics for the entire month of January.
Needless to say I totally lost the Nissan war, and after that delightful big ol’ city dealership held Ruby the Rogue hostage for over two weeks they graciously charged me $372 for what was supposed to be a two-hour free repair. Swell.
Apparently Wesley the Reviewer who sits at the right hand of the Nissan Mother Ship could not be convinced that his Just Say No stamp should be tucked away in a very dark place.
My mind’s eye was very active with that thought.
And though I’m not real proud of the moment I suggested it, I feel that he could’ve been a tad more sympathetic to my situation.
Clearly he needs to revisit his “Customer Service” manual, but maybe his liberal arts degree just didn’t prepare him for all this authority. Whatever Wesley, may the fleas of a thousand camels…etc, etc.
Meanwhile, back at the carless homefront, the vacuum decided to have some fun with me.
Ours is a central vac system and the itsy bitsy button on the hose was malfunctioning.
PR (Poor Rocky) goes off to the stupid city again where we purchased the thing only to be informed that the entire hose would need to be replaced to the tune of over—here comes that number again—$300.
Pay in advance, of course, shipping applicable, but the hose could only be delivered to THEM, in THE CITY, 40 miles away instead of to our house.
Oh yeah, he really said that, to a gal who still harbors very fresh memories of hauling all kinds of stuff to folks’ homes via a brown truck. Overnight, mind you.
This particular delivery, however, would take seven days.
So anyway, the very next day the vacuum decides to repair itself—running like a raped ape.
All better, yay! A happy shoutout to the appliance guy. (Hey, it’s only been one day. No way could it have been shipped yet if it’s gonna take seven to get here, right?)
Er, no. Not even close to right.
Appliance Nazi advises me that to cancel this order will cost $92—shipping both ways, re-stocking fee, tax, blah, blah, flippin’ blah.
The good news is we now own TWO hoses. Isn’t that special?
I’d be a liar if I were to deny that my fondest wishes on the fateful pickup day were:
1) each and every employee of that dealership from hell arrived home to find all of their appliances in disrepair and
2) the Appliance Nazi’s vehicle broke down on his way home leaving him no choice but to call for a $300 tow job.
Yup, Fantasy Island, but a gal can dream, can’t she?
Of course these things happen to everybody on a daily— no, minute by minute—basis and on a much much bigger scale.
We buy local as often as possible but sometimes one just has to travel for purchases.
So here’s my question: Why do we consumers get ripped off so darn much? Why is there no recourse in so many instances? Is it really so difficult to return a telephone call or respond to a letter or email? WHERE HAS THE GOD OF FAIRNESS GONE???
Horror stories abound, we print books about it, subscribe to special consumer magazines, read all the fine print, and yet we still live at the corner of Fraud and Big Fat Liars.
Go ahead and try to fight those big guys but be sure to remember that sometimes the squeaky wheel gets kicked to the corner instead of enjoying the proper greasing it deserves. It’s like trying to play tennis without a racket for Pete’s sake.
It’s a darn good thing that we like old stuff in this household. Old, easy to repair, un-automated stuff.
The newer the model the more likely it will fall privy to disarray and failure, and eventually you end up at the mercy of Wesley the Reviewer.
Hey Barack, what’s your plan to increase consumer spending? How ‘bout we start with enforcing the Service portion of Customer Service in this country and work our way up from there.
Hey, I know! Maybe you can loan us some of the “experts” working your oh-so-successful healthcare.com website, and then you can make new laws about what we can and cannot purchase!
We can all just buy the same crappy stuff, pay for the same ineffective repairs, and maybe THEN we can all live as one big happy government family!
Btw, my daughter called me “snarky” last week. Can’t imagine why, but that is totally the name of my next snowman.
That’s right, Snarky the Snowman singing Hey, Won’tcha Play, Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song, and make me feel at home.