All dressed up. Not me, but my SUV.
A new set of tires. They weren’t on my Christmas list but neither was driving around on tires that were worn down. SUV tires are not cheap, but there you go. At least the drama was free.
The drama: I make an appointment to get my (old) tires rotated and balanced. When I arrive in the lobby of the tire place on Thursday afternoon, I can see my name on the appointment board. Good. But the salesman can’t find it in the computer. I point out that it’s on the board, it must be in the computer, somewhere. The problem is that their records are kept by phone number. Both my husband and I have bought tires there and provided the same phone number. The salesman finally finds it. He looks over at me and asks, “Bruce?”
“No,” I have to reply out loud because he’s actually waiting for an answer, “I’m not Bruce.” Once I convince him of this, he manages to find my vehicle in their records, as well.
He checks my tires and comes back inside. That’s when I find out that I need new tires. Fine. I’m in luck, though, as they have three tires there and one at another store. They’ll get the fourth tire delivered that afternoon and I can come back in the morning to have them installed. I make an appointment for 9:00 a.m. on Friday. I also change the phone number on their records to my cell phone number.
A new day dawns, with new drama. I walk into the lobby the Friday morning (deja vu) but don’t see my name on the appointment board (not deja vu). Ah, but I have my paperwork for the appointment. I check it, only to find that it has the date from the day before. On Thursday afternoon, the software let the salesman create an appointment for Thursday morning (same Thursday). Silly software! I give the new salesman my cell phone number, the one I had them put on my account so I wouldn’t have any problem with appointments, remember?
What new phone number. My records were not updated, after all.
Well, the Friday salesman (the Thursday salesman had Friday off, of course) was just as nice as can be. They’ll work me in. Only they can’t find my tires. The computer shows that the fourth tire was, indeed, delivered the previous afternoon. But the Friday salesman can’t find them anywhere.
So, no appointment, no phone number update, no tires.
He returns to the computer, sighs deeply and shakes his head. He says he’ll check again. He checks again, same result. He enlists the help of some of the other salesmen. Success! They find the tires, right outside the door, leading into the work bays.
Less than an hour later, my SUV is all dressed up, ready to go. I’m pretty sure my phone number isn’t updated on their records. I’ll deal with that next time I make an appointment to get my tires rotated and balanced. But I still won’t answer to “Bruce.”