If There Is a Hell . . .

I Think I Know Where It Is

I have written before that I do not believe there is a very hot place deep beneath the Earth’s surface, ruled by a guy with horns, a tail, and a pitchfork, where bad people go after they die to suffer for their sins for all eternity.

However, if I did believe in Hell, I would suggest that car dealerships are branch offices. Visits to a car dealer make me reassess my lack of belief in Heaven or Hell because every time I go to one, it seems like a unique kind of Hell to me.

Really, is there anything enjoyable about a visit to a car dealership? They put you through the wringer when you buy a new car, and then, if that car should ever need service, well, fuhgeddaboudit. You’d be better off shoving it over a cliff.

All right, so that last bit was an exaggeration. But, you get the idea.

One time, years ago, I received a letter informing me that my car was being recalled. It may have been for a faulty ignition switch, but I can’t remember for sure. Anyway, there’s a Chevy dealership a few miles down the street, so I gave them a call. I provided the information from the recall notice and they made an appointment for me to bring in my Monte Carlo.

My Monte Carlo in a happier place.

Now, on the day of the appointment, I mentally prepared myself for the encounter. I knew from past experience that there is no such thing as a quick visit to a dealer service department. I told myself it may take a while to get this simple repair done.

So, I got there and went through the intake process, and then made my way to the customer waiting area. I know I am going to have to be patient. I do not want to be that guy who hectors the office staff every ten minutes about what’s taking so long.

But, after waiting for a couple of hours for what should have been a simple repair, my mental preparations went out the window. I walked up to the service desk and politely asked what was happening with my Monte Carlo. After a while, someone came out of the employee area and said my car was not on the recall list, so they hadn’t done anything. That pissed me off, given I had wasted two hours of my life sitting in their waiting room, apparently for no reason. I asked, “Was anyone ever going to tell me? Was I going to be sitting here like an idiot all goddamn day? Or words to that effect. I asked why, then, did they make an appointment for me if my vehicle was not part of the recall. And I asked why would General Motors send me a recall notice in the first place. I showed him the letter and the guy says he would check into it further and he went wherever he had to go to do this.

Finally he came back and said someone made a mistake, and that my car was indeed part of the recall, and they’ll get someone on it right away, and it won’t be too much longer. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You know how they are.

Eventually, they fixed my car and I went on my way. But, after being dicked around for more than three hours over a simple part swap, and having them think I was too stupid to know whether my car had been recalled or not, I was in no mood to forgive and forget. A week or so later, a dealership employee called to follow up on how my appointment went. I started telling my story and got kind of riled up all over again, and proceeded to give her an earful. (I did not use any profanity, though.) She got off the phone as quickly as she could. I felt a little bad about unloading on her, but that’s part of her job, I guess. I’m sure I wasn’t the first person to have an unpleasant experience with their service department.

The nearest Chevy dealer. Ain’t never going back.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson after that experience. Well, I’m sorry to say that you’d think wrong. Years later, the Monte Carlo developed what I feared was some kind of electrical or computer issue. I thought it might be beyond the ability of my regular mechanic to fix. I did not want to take it to a dealer, but I figured a place that worked on Chevys every day might have the expertise required to fix this potentially difficult problem. Of course, I wasn’t going to go back to the nearby Chevy dealer, but there was another one about fifteen miles away, way over on the other side of town. So, I took it there.

After several days, and more than a thousand dollars later, I picked up the car and the issue was gone. Great. While the car was there, they put in a new battery because the old one tested as failing. I was fine with them replacing the battery, because no one wants a failing battery in their car. What this meant, though, is that when the new battery failed, as they all do eventually, I would have to go back to that dealer to get a replacement, if it was still under warranty.

A year and a half later, that is what happened. One day, I got in my car to go somewhere and the battery was dead. I have a battery charger, so I charged it up and went to the local auto parts store to have the battery tested. It failed and the guy suggested I take it back to wherever I got it because it probably was still under warranty. This meant another visit to the dealer all the way across town. Damn.

I know all I need is to have my car battery replaced. I could do it myself in just a few minutes. But, knowing it is still under warranty, I thought I should take it to the dealer and explain the battery is bad and is still covered by the warranty and all that has to be done is to take out the old one and put in the new one and I’ll be on my way and thank you very much. In and out, just like that.

But, of course, that’s not how it worked out.

I sat in their customer lounge for more than two hours waiting for them to replace my car battery, my annoyance level rising by the minute. I was annoyed that it was taking so long, but I really was annoyed at myself for believing I could be in and out of there in 15 minutes. I was at a dealership, for chrissakes! Only a dumbass would think a trip to a dealer would last only 15 minutes!

I got tired of lounging around in the lounge.

Sometime after the two hour mark, I see my car has been brought out from the depths of service department Hell and parked in the pick up area. I went up to the cashier’s desk and said I was here for the Monte Carlo. She looked at her computer and informed me that the paperwork had not been finished yet. She suggested I come back in 15 minutes. Not a big deal, but given my level of annoyance at that point, it felt like they were rubbing an extra pinch of salt in my open wound.

However, instead of causing a ruckus, I meekly went back to the customer lounge. What else could I do? Pitching a fit wasn’t going to do anyone any good. After 15 or 20 minutes, someone came to let me know the car was good to go. Finally, it was over.

I honestly don’t know what goes on back there in the garage where they do repairs. Maybe they only had one 90 year old guy to work on the cars as best he could. All I know is, that whatever the problem, you’re going to be there a while. You may as well leave it and go do something else. A car dealer service department operates on its own time. It was my fault for thinking this encounter would be different. I hate it when I have to relearn a lesson.

I’m thinking that when this battery goes bad, I’ll just replace it myself, even though it might still be under warranty. It may be better for my mental health to pay the extra expense and get a new battery elsewhere, rather than enter the car dealer netherworld again.

H’mm . . . maybe I can deduct the next new battery as a medical expense.

Well, at least it’s been certified.

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