Santa gave me a flat tire for Christmas.
Dec. 30th, 2022 12:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusSanta gave me a flat tire for Christmas.
I'm sure he didn't mean to. He probably looked at our steep driveway and (wisely) decided to park at the top of the hill (I do). Rudolph and Dancer were likely chomping at the bit to leave in the bitter cold that swept the country (just because they're used to the arctic doesn't mean they like it). A clip of an impatient hoof, and in no time it's flat.
Either that or I had a slow leak, that the tire I noticed was low Friday night was on its way out. I'm going with my reindeer theory.
Not much I could do about it over Christmas, nor did I care. I was home, and warm; the Christmas lights were off and baking postponed at the request of an electric company that was fine with me cuddling my cats and staying up late listening to carols, fine with my writing sci-fi, so long as I didn't stress the power grid. I'm blessed with a family willing to postpone Christmas to Boxing Day. I count myself lucky, flat notwithstanding.
You know that the world of flat tires has changed?
There are apps. You schedule your tow and mechanic days in advance. The apps work on Christmas. Bet you didn't know that. Bet you're from my time where you, (in heels) haul a spare tire out of the trunk, scrape your knuckles on the crappy jack, and swear at lug nuts tightened by a bear. I've done it many times and I was smug that *this* time I'd paid the fifteen bucks for roadside service. Those modern folks, those millennials and GenZ kids, used those apps over the weekend and filled up all the Monday appointments. By the time I called Monday -- I figured I'd have the whole day free to deal with this mess -- I couldn't get my tire patched until spring.
Okay, Tuesday. But I was as surprised as if they'd said spring.
Not only that, National Tire and Battery (the place I'll be going in the future; you'll see why) warned they had a 2 1/2-hour wait. "We don't want you to be upset, so we're telling you upfront." Pep Boys told me "come on in, the water's fiiiiiiiiine" that they had pandas and unicorns, but more to my interest, a 1pm appointment.
I really like people who are honest with me. I hesitated. Pep Boys had been shaky in the past. My mechanic had had to redo some of their handiwork on my brakes (you need brakes). But a tire is simple. A friend scoffed at National Tire's wait time. Ok. I like unicorns.
The first sign of trouble wasn't subtle. I sailed through the door (after not changing a tire in heels!) and the guy behind the desk at Pep Boys announced it was "drop off only!" and "those with appointments, we'll have you done by 8." He seemed miffed, like it was my fault. It was too late to book National Tire and Battery. Those GenZ kids were on those apps and likely had booked it till summer (or Wednesday, which was the same thing).
Here's where I admit how lazy I am. You see, the day I'd parked at the top of the driveway, the reindeer were were probably sniffing the chicken in my car. I'd done two major shopping runs, it was colder in my car than in my fridge, so I figured everything would be fine. The entire back and passenger side seat were filled with paper bags. What I hadn't counted on was 7 1/2 hours in much warmer weather at a car shop. After browsing a craft store for hours, a friend picked me up and brought me home.
At 6pm, Pep Boys called. They'd gotten to my car! Bad news: they couldn't fix tread that low, and didn't have my size tire in stock. They'd have to order it, it was late, and it might not get here till Thursday.
A standard Honda tire.
I call those classy guys at National Tire and Battery. They're closed. Since I like torturing myself, I check online, and yes, they keep my size tire in stock. (They also have them at Costco.) There was no point trying to book though because the 12 year-olds of GenZZ were online booking their future appointments for once they own cars.
Pep Boys, hearing I had (raw) chicken in the car, out of both niceness and a sense of self-preservation, ordered Lyfts for me there and back to pick up the chicken. I allowed them to assume I had my flat in the middle of a grocery run, though no doubt the mechanic who saw the pinprick size of the slow leak wasn't fooled.
So this is where it should be simple: either the tire arrived Wednesday or it arrived Thursday. But we're talking about Pep Boys Germantown here. Mom perused their reviews and felt *sorry* for them. They're roasted so much they should all have tropical tans.
At the advice of a friend, I contact them Wednesday morning and tell them I really need my car Thursday. The mellow, professional voice that promised rainbows and stardust on Monday said to call back at one to be sure the tire arrived. I don't believe him anymore and call back at 12:42pm.
The tire's in!! Yes! Like a normal place, Pep Boys is going to get on the stick and get my tire done right away since it's been 24 hours and it's a half hour job and, oh, hahahaha, I had you fooled there a moment. They'll have it done by 5 or 6.
At this point, I was getting annoyed. You have to understand, I'm an easy customer because I want the people across the counter to like me. I'll joke with them, no problem, I'll hang out at the craft store for two hours, har-dee-har, maybe I'll knit some socks. I chat with the other folks waiting for cars. It works for me because then I enjoy my time. I like people. No need to make life difficult. So edging me into irritation takes some effort.
I arrive at six pm to pickup my car. And with the same miffed attitude of the day before, the night person of the not-Care Bears and no-kittens-for-you voice announces to me, in exactly these words, "Your car is going to be last."
This tests my cool, my chirpiness, my Buddhist patience. I assure you, there is no one who will respond well to that phrase, even if they hadn't been waiting 36 hours for an effing tire. I walk off my fury at the craft shop.
I return and sit down, and a customer comes by and recognizes me from the day before, "Weren't you here just for a tire?!" he says, laughing.
National Tire and Battery starts hanging over my head on a glowing pedestal. At that moment I don't care how long it takes them.
Only two things keep me from getting my keys and driving away (the mini-spare is already on the car), and to hell with babies in their cribs booking appointments through next year:
1) I have standards. I don't stick businesses with items they special ordered for me. No one can sell just one tire.
2) They did help me with the chicken.
So I watch them, wondering why the hell they were so disorganized.
You see, a mechanic friend whipped an auto shop into shape and explained what he did. He kept control of the jobs. The front desk person knows the full picture: which customers had rental coverage, which needed their cars right away, which ones were long term customers who'd been coming for years ($$$). The job tickets, they stayed with him until the mechanics were done and ready for the next job. He talked to the mechanics about work as it came in, getting time estimates. They came to him (and he checked with them) if work went late. He stayed in communication with increasingly happy customers. (And I couldn't go there because they have too much work.)
This process, by the way, is the same thing they do at National Tire and Battery. (Where I'll be going in the future. Their pearly gates are on Wisteria Road.)
None of that was happening at Pep Boys Germantown. The front desk guy handed out the job tickets to the mechanics right away and from there lost any semblance of control. He had trouble even getting keys back. All he could do was take the heat from angry customers as mechanics did what they wanted in whatever order they wanted. And he could book Lyfts, wasting company resources when simple communication would solve the problem of stranded customers. You don't habitually book Lyfts unless your customers are frequently stranded. (Of course, the smooth-voiced liar from the morning shift had never mentioned to him the estimated 5-6pm completion time.)
With this epiphany, I looked at the stubborn fury of the front desk guy. Weathered like stone by the regular occurrence of angry customers. And knew there was nothing I could do.
I had them fix the tire.
Got my keys.
Paid my bill.
Thanked him.
Got in my car.
And never looked back.
I think I'll have chicken tomorrow.
I'm sure he didn't mean to. He probably looked at our steep driveway and (wisely) decided to park at the top of the hill (I do). Rudolph and Dancer were likely chomping at the bit to leave in the bitter cold that swept the country (just because they're used to the arctic doesn't mean they like it). A clip of an impatient hoof, and in no time it's flat.
Either that or I had a slow leak, that the tire I noticed was low Friday night was on its way out. I'm going with my reindeer theory.
Not much I could do about it over Christmas, nor did I care. I was home, and warm; the Christmas lights were off and baking postponed at the request of an electric company that was fine with me cuddling my cats and staying up late listening to carols, fine with my writing sci-fi, so long as I didn't stress the power grid. I'm blessed with a family willing to postpone Christmas to Boxing Day. I count myself lucky, flat notwithstanding.
You know that the world of flat tires has changed?
There are apps. You schedule your tow and mechanic days in advance. The apps work on Christmas. Bet you didn't know that. Bet you're from my time where you, (in heels) haul a spare tire out of the trunk, scrape your knuckles on the crappy jack, and swear at lug nuts tightened by a bear. I've done it many times and I was smug that *this* time I'd paid the fifteen bucks for roadside service. Those modern folks, those millennials and GenZ kids, used those apps over the weekend and filled up all the Monday appointments. By the time I called Monday -- I figured I'd have the whole day free to deal with this mess -- I couldn't get my tire patched until spring.
Okay, Tuesday. But I was as surprised as if they'd said spring.
Not only that, National Tire and Battery (the place I'll be going in the future; you'll see why) warned they had a 2 1/2-hour wait. "We don't want you to be upset, so we're telling you upfront." Pep Boys told me "come on in, the water's fiiiiiiiiine" that they had pandas and unicorns, but more to my interest, a 1pm appointment.
I really like people who are honest with me. I hesitated. Pep Boys had been shaky in the past. My mechanic had had to redo some of their handiwork on my brakes (you need brakes). But a tire is simple. A friend scoffed at National Tire's wait time. Ok. I like unicorns.
The first sign of trouble wasn't subtle. I sailed through the door (after not changing a tire in heels!) and the guy behind the desk at Pep Boys announced it was "drop off only!" and "those with appointments, we'll have you done by 8." He seemed miffed, like it was my fault. It was too late to book National Tire and Battery. Those GenZ kids were on those apps and likely had booked it till summer (or Wednesday, which was the same thing).
Here's where I admit how lazy I am. You see, the day I'd parked at the top of the driveway, the reindeer were were probably sniffing the chicken in my car. I'd done two major shopping runs, it was colder in my car than in my fridge, so I figured everything would be fine. The entire back and passenger side seat were filled with paper bags. What I hadn't counted on was 7 1/2 hours in much warmer weather at a car shop. After browsing a craft store for hours, a friend picked me up and brought me home.
At 6pm, Pep Boys called. They'd gotten to my car! Bad news: they couldn't fix tread that low, and didn't have my size tire in stock. They'd have to order it, it was late, and it might not get here till Thursday.
A standard Honda tire.
I call those classy guys at National Tire and Battery. They're closed. Since I like torturing myself, I check online, and yes, they keep my size tire in stock. (They also have them at Costco.) There was no point trying to book though because the 12 year-olds of GenZZ were online booking their future appointments for once they own cars.
Pep Boys, hearing I had (raw) chicken in the car, out of both niceness and a sense of self-preservation, ordered Lyfts for me there and back to pick up the chicken. I allowed them to assume I had my flat in the middle of a grocery run, though no doubt the mechanic who saw the pinprick size of the slow leak wasn't fooled.
So this is where it should be simple: either the tire arrived Wednesday or it arrived Thursday. But we're talking about Pep Boys Germantown here. Mom perused their reviews and felt *sorry* for them. They're roasted so much they should all have tropical tans.
At the advice of a friend, I contact them Wednesday morning and tell them I really need my car Thursday. The mellow, professional voice that promised rainbows and stardust on Monday said to call back at one to be sure the tire arrived. I don't believe him anymore and call back at 12:42pm.
The tire's in!! Yes! Like a normal place, Pep Boys is going to get on the stick and get my tire done right away since it's been 24 hours and it's a half hour job and, oh, hahahaha, I had you fooled there a moment. They'll have it done by 5 or 6.
At this point, I was getting annoyed. You have to understand, I'm an easy customer because I want the people across the counter to like me. I'll joke with them, no problem, I'll hang out at the craft store for two hours, har-dee-har, maybe I'll knit some socks. I chat with the other folks waiting for cars. It works for me because then I enjoy my time. I like people. No need to make life difficult. So edging me into irritation takes some effort.
I arrive at six pm to pickup my car. And with the same miffed attitude of the day before, the night person of the not-Care Bears and no-kittens-for-you voice announces to me, in exactly these words, "Your car is going to be last."
This tests my cool, my chirpiness, my Buddhist patience. I assure you, there is no one who will respond well to that phrase, even if they hadn't been waiting 36 hours for an effing tire. I walk off my fury at the craft shop.
I return and sit down, and a customer comes by and recognizes me from the day before, "Weren't you here just for a tire?!" he says, laughing.
National Tire and Battery starts hanging over my head on a glowing pedestal. At that moment I don't care how long it takes them.
Only two things keep me from getting my keys and driving away (the mini-spare is already on the car), and to hell with babies in their cribs booking appointments through next year:
1) I have standards. I don't stick businesses with items they special ordered for me. No one can sell just one tire.
2) They did help me with the chicken.
So I watch them, wondering why the hell they were so disorganized.
You see, a mechanic friend whipped an auto shop into shape and explained what he did. He kept control of the jobs. The front desk person knows the full picture: which customers had rental coverage, which needed their cars right away, which ones were long term customers who'd been coming for years ($$$). The job tickets, they stayed with him until the mechanics were done and ready for the next job. He talked to the mechanics about work as it came in, getting time estimates. They came to him (and he checked with them) if work went late. He stayed in communication with increasingly happy customers. (And I couldn't go there because they have too much work.)
This process, by the way, is the same thing they do at National Tire and Battery. (Where I'll be going in the future. Their pearly gates are on Wisteria Road.)
None of that was happening at Pep Boys Germantown. The front desk guy handed out the job tickets to the mechanics right away and from there lost any semblance of control. He had trouble even getting keys back. All he could do was take the heat from angry customers as mechanics did what they wanted in whatever order they wanted. And he could book Lyfts, wasting company resources when simple communication would solve the problem of stranded customers. You don't habitually book Lyfts unless your customers are frequently stranded. (Of course, the smooth-voiced liar from the morning shift had never mentioned to him the estimated 5-6pm completion time.)
With this epiphany, I looked at the stubborn fury of the front desk guy. Weathered like stone by the regular occurrence of angry customers. And knew there was nothing I could do.
I had them fix the tire.
Got my keys.
Paid my bill.
Thanked him.
Got in my car.
And never looked back.
I think I'll have chicken tomorrow.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 06:29 am (UTC)"HUGS"
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 07:29 am (UTC)A) I'd had problems with them before and knew better and
B) I had a much better, well-reviewed option available
I was waffling, so I ran it by a friend, who thought B's wait time was ridiculous. I'm not sure what I would've chosen without that input, but I've learned a valuable lesson: go with the people you like and trust. Even if they're not the fastest, I would've still been happier.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 04:38 am (UTC)have had some long wait times too but mostly not too bad.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 12:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:14 am (UTC)Then my dad insisted I write it up -- and it got funnier and funnier as I did. :D
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 06:21 pm (UTC)When I had a flat last month, the mechanic said drop off only. I told them I’d have to wait and showed up with the baby. Can’t get a Lyft with a baby! They managed to rearrange their order of operations. ( I was pretty sure they would, which is why I didn’t show up with the 2-year-old, who would have screamed bloody murder the entire time. It’s hell, but occasionally I can use it to get faster service or budge particularly stubborn bureaucracies.)
no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:12 am (UTC)--oh.
(Will a cat do? If I can get him into the bunting?)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 03:10 am (UTC)*tips hat* I'm here to entertain.
:D