Caution! The content of this post is a rant tinged with a bit of temper tantrum. There are no pictures or quilting content. Proceed if you dare.
Yesterday I thought perhaps I had somehow descended into the 7th circle of hell. Do you ever just have one of those days? You know the kind that start out shiny and full of promise only to devolve into a wasteland of frustrations and wasted time.
Daisy was enjoying herself with seven other Goldens at the local doggy daycare. I had a nice lunch date planned with Hubby. Then just a couple of quick errands and a quick spin around the house with the vacuum would leave the rest of the day for me to spend with fabric, my sewing machine and my favorite San Diego radio personalities.
I was just about to finish up my running around when I had the urge to grab a nice triple-shot latte from Starbucks to keep me company once I was home. Nothing like the first crisp afternoon to have a girl's thoughts turn to a nice hot afternoon coffee. And then . . . . . . my truck wouldn't start. %#&*#%&*$#()%#!!!!!
I called Hubby to see if he could come back and give me a jump. No problem. I enjoyed my drink while I waited for him to rescue me. *sigh* There just wasn't enough juice in his battery to get me back on the road. So I reached for my AAA card and started dialing. That's when things really took a turn for the worse - first a little background.
Some long time readers of this blog may remember when we had some trouble with out auto insurance. It was a frustrating time but we secured insurance with a new company and thought our troubles were at an end. That held true until it was time to make our cross-country move. Then our new company (Automobile Club) became less than helpful and ultimately reached a point where we decided to change providers again - but we did retain the roadside service which was transferred by the company from Southern California to New England without us doing a thing and causing a little drama and confusion of its own.
So back to the Starbucks parking lot. I pull out my Automobile Club of New England card and using my cell phone call the 800 number. After a round of 'say this, choose that' I finally got a human who informed me that he would have to transfer me to an operator in MA as he could not help. He promptly cut me off.
Redial, re-prompt, new human, another transfer, more frustration. After getting settled with the dead battery issue (which would require an hour's wait, I was asked if anything else could be done. I decided to address the call-in situation and find out why I wasn't automatically routed to a New England operator. I was given a story that because my cell number has a California area code, I will always be routed there no matter what number I dial. I cry, 'Baloney!' If the equipment is SO sensitive as to know what number is calling it should also be sensitive enough to figure out what cell tower the call is originating from. We are after all a mobile society. Hubby and I are not the only people to move and not change phone numbers. Add to that equation the number of folks who travel far from home for business and pleasure. Thank goodness I was in the relative safety of a parking lot rather than sitting on the side of the Mass Pike with cars whizzing by me.
There are two bright points to this story - 1. The tow truck operator who arrived to give me a jump. He was friendly, efficient and no nonsense. He had me on my way in just minutes after his arrival. 2. I have 35 days left on my new car warranty which meant the battery would be replaced without the exchange of $$.
Now off to the dealer I go. Uh - oh. I don't have an appointment. They are not happy to see me. After pointing out that I would not be out of their hair should I turn off my engine, I was asked to go inside to speak with a service tech. I am told it will be at least two hours. Oh goody. If only I had a book or some handwork. At least I had my cell phone. I passed nearly two hours with email and a video game.
My name was called, I grew excited. Maybe I could salvage an hour of quilting time before day's end. Nope. I am instead informed that indeed my battery had failed, that Honda had 'approved' the warranty work. Now I need only wait for them to install it. *sigh* My cell phone is nearly out of battery, too. So I tried amusing myself by wandering the showroom looking at the new cars. Another hour passes before the service tech happily informs me that I can be on my way. Isn't it great that the part was under warranty? Won't I please give him a good review when the dealership calls for me to rate their service? Whatever . . . I just want my keys, I want to go home!
As I make my way around the corner to find my truck, I running through my mind the absurdity at the attempt to make me grateful for something that was replaced at no cost because it was defective in the first place. That's when I saw they had parked my truck under the sprinklers leaving it wet and water spotted. *argh*
Oh and the thoughts I had of changing my roadside service to another company. Well, that won't happen either. I checked into the plan offered through AARP (where I became a member this year) only to find that the service is provided by those not so 'good hands people' we left four years ago.
If you have stayed with this little diatribe all the way to the end, you deserve a pat on the back. I don't really expect anyone to do so, but I just had to get it off my chest. Stay tuned. I will return in the next day or so with some really fun quilting content.
Vintage Quilt Friday
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