Every time I read my email, I'm reminded of the same question from a few different folks: "what the Sam Hill happened to Carey's car?" I always mean to post it here, but for some reason it always slips my noggin when I'm on the Blogger.
Carey's car was its own fiasco. After waiting day after day for our possessions to arrive, we received a call from the car-moving company: "Er. We've, er. We seem to have lost your keys. Which is a problem. We need to change trucks with your car and without the key... eh..." I'll say it's a problem, brother.
Sadly, the keys to Carey's 2000 VW Beetle are not of the standard stickem-in-and-turnem variety. Specially calibrated electronic keys, oh yes. Nothing's ever easy. Fortunately, Carey had the foresight to keep a stickem-in-and-turnem key with her, which she promptly overnighted to the car-moving company... but, alas, we were still out one electronic key.
Eventually the car arrived at about 7:00 one morning. To our bleary-eyed chagrin, little dents were all over it.
DRIVER: Okay, here's your beetle. Sorry about the key thing. Sign here.
CAREY: You are going to replace the key, right? Because, you know...
DRIVER: Sure. We lost it, we're responsible for it. Just go get another key made, pay for it, and we'll reimburse you.
CAREY: What's with all these dents all over the car?
DRIVER: They were already there when you gave it to us. Sign here.
CAREY: No, these certainly weren't here. Look, there's a bad one. There's another. And there. And right there. See? And over here.
DRIVER: No, look here at the pick-up sheet [pulls out sheet with postage-stamp-sized drawing of a generic car, with about 20 hand-drawn arrows pointing to different sides of the car... all so small it could mean... well... anything].
CAREY: Hhh... but I know my car. The dents here and here were already there... all the others are brand new.
DRIVER: Ma'am. We didn't cause them. Our trucks don't cause those kinds of dents. In these cases, it's your word against mine and, let me save you the trouble, they're going to believe me every time. Now, if you don't sign this, I can't release the car to you.
---
She signed it.
Upon getting into the actual car, we found greasy smudge-stains all over it, fingerprint-sized. It was really gross. Apparently, Pigpen from The Peanuts Gang had taken our Beetle out for a spin as some point. Grr.
The next day, we went to a VW dealership in north Long Beach who told us, in 20 minute increments, "it'll just be about 5, 10 more minutes". After spending over an hour and a half, our new key was finally made. The old alarm system had to be wiped to accomodate a new key (programmed and laser-cut, apparently), and the whole process ended up costing around $220. For a KEY.
We called them on the cell and they told us, "just pay for it and we'll reimburse you." No, I said. No, I don't want to screw around with that. We'll just have them bill you for it. "No, no," they said, "much less complicated if we can just reimburse you." Not less complicated for us, I said, which is the main point. You people lost our key. We've had to, essentially, fart away 1/2 our day to accomodate this blunder. We're not really concerned with how complicated this gets for you. We've got practically no money in the bank and we're not going to gamble $220 that you'll 'pay us back.'
"Sir, there's really no other way to do it. We can reimburse you TO-DAY. Just fax us the receipt. Really. Today."
"We'll get credited today. This is your word. Today."
"Just fax us the receipt. Absolutely."
That was nearly a week and a half ago. We've yet to be reimbursed.
Clowns.
Carey's car was its own fiasco. After waiting day after day for our possessions to arrive, we received a call from the car-moving company: "Er. We've, er. We seem to have lost your keys. Which is a problem. We need to change trucks with your car and without the key... eh..." I'll say it's a problem, brother.
Sadly, the keys to Carey's 2000 VW Beetle are not of the standard stickem-in-and-turnem variety. Specially calibrated electronic keys, oh yes. Nothing's ever easy. Fortunately, Carey had the foresight to keep a stickem-in-and-turnem key with her, which she promptly overnighted to the car-moving company... but, alas, we were still out one electronic key.
Eventually the car arrived at about 7:00 one morning. To our bleary-eyed chagrin, little dents were all over it.
DRIVER: Okay, here's your beetle. Sorry about the key thing. Sign here.
CAREY: You are going to replace the key, right? Because, you know...
DRIVER: Sure. We lost it, we're responsible for it. Just go get another key made, pay for it, and we'll reimburse you.
CAREY: What's with all these dents all over the car?
DRIVER: They were already there when you gave it to us. Sign here.
CAREY: No, these certainly weren't here. Look, there's a bad one. There's another. And there. And right there. See? And over here.
DRIVER: No, look here at the pick-up sheet [pulls out sheet with postage-stamp-sized drawing of a generic car, with about 20 hand-drawn arrows pointing to different sides of the car... all so small it could mean... well... anything].
CAREY: Hhh... but I know my car. The dents here and here were already there... all the others are brand new.
DRIVER: Ma'am. We didn't cause them. Our trucks don't cause those kinds of dents. In these cases, it's your word against mine and, let me save you the trouble, they're going to believe me every time. Now, if you don't sign this, I can't release the car to you.
---
She signed it.
Upon getting into the actual car, we found greasy smudge-stains all over it, fingerprint-sized. It was really gross. Apparently, Pigpen from The Peanuts Gang had taken our Beetle out for a spin as some point. Grr.
The next day, we went to a VW dealership in north Long Beach who told us, in 20 minute increments, "it'll just be about 5, 10 more minutes". After spending over an hour and a half, our new key was finally made. The old alarm system had to be wiped to accomodate a new key (programmed and laser-cut, apparently), and the whole process ended up costing around $220. For a KEY.
We called them on the cell and they told us, "just pay for it and we'll reimburse you." No, I said. No, I don't want to screw around with that. We'll just have them bill you for it. "No, no," they said, "much less complicated if we can just reimburse you." Not less complicated for us, I said, which is the main point. You people lost our key. We've had to, essentially, fart away 1/2 our day to accomodate this blunder. We're not really concerned with how complicated this gets for you. We've got practically no money in the bank and we're not going to gamble $220 that you'll 'pay us back.'
"Sir, there's really no other way to do it. We can reimburse you TO-DAY. Just fax us the receipt. Really. Today."
"We'll get credited today. This is your word. Today."
"Just fax us the receipt. Absolutely."
That was nearly a week and a half ago. We've yet to be reimbursed.
Clowns.
posted by Jeremy Bear at
9:37 AM
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