While waiting for my truck to be brought in, I decided to walk around the dealership lot and look at some vehicles way too expensive for me to ever own. Not that I'd ever buy another one from these dingdongs. I wasn’t out there for more than 30 seconds when I heard, “Nice truck, huh? Can I show you…”
Wrong day to try and sales pitch me.
“Don’t go there,” I said, “Just don’t even ask if I want to look or test drive or anything, ok?”
He didn’t say anything and just looked at me, totally bewildered by the blatantly gigantic hair across my ass.
I said, “I’ve been waiting for my truck to be fixed. I brought the f%#!ing thing in at 7 f#@&ing 30 this morning and they haven’t even taken it in yet! So I’m a bit pissed off. Not your fault.”
He looked somewhat concerned, not so much because of my truck not being brought in but because I looked not entirely unlike Jack Nicholson in the final epic moments of The Shining (sans axe, of course) but Lord knows, I could go berserk at any time.
“I’m sorry sir. Let me go in and see what the hold up is.” (translation: get me the hell away from this goofball)
He was off for the repair door leaving me with my own thoughts of torture and dismemberment to be lovingly performed on my now untrustworthy Dodge Repair Department.
It was 10 minutes later that I noticed my truck was gone inside. Ahhh, progress. Maybe there is hope. Nope.
One hour later, my “Dodge Professional Repair Coordinator” came to sit with me in the cozy, magazine strewn waiting area.
“Well," he began, “we found the problem with the fan. There were some leaves or something in there. That’s all set. We changed the oil, too. The brakes are where we found some problems.”
Here we go, I thought. Bend me over the sofa gently please, I have a bad back.
He said,“The pulsing you feel when you press the brake pedal is because the front rotors are rusted out and need to be replaced. We checked the back brakes and we suggest (I loved that line) that you have them done as well. They’ll need to be done soon anyway. Two birds with one stone, you know?”
You know how the hair stands up on the back of your neck sometimes? Mine was at full military attention.
“This truck doesn’t even have 20,000 miles and the front rotors are rusted out?!? What the hell caused that? I have to pay for that? This is ridiculous. How much? How much is this going to cost? Jesus!”
Cool as a cucumber, he says, “About $850. Front and rear. We can’t do it today though.”
No shit, Sherlock, I thought, you close in about 15 minutes. You've had my truck all day, remember?
I said,” Just forget the brakes for now. Is the truck done? I want to get outta here.”
“Yeah, they’re washing it right now. I call you out in a minute. If you want to, we can set up an appointment for the brakes too.”
He left me sitting on the sofa, agape as an ape eating a banana. Hell, at that point I was bananas. $850 for brakes on a fairly new vehicle?
I – DON’T -THINK – SO.
“You’re all set, sir! That’s going to be $33.48.”
“You’re not even going to give me the oil change? You made me wait for my truck all day for cripes sake!”
I was half laughing, half not, but he knew damn well I was serious.
I did end up paying for the oil change, which was a bullshit call on their part, and I left.
My wife called me on my cell as I was pulling out of the dealership and told me she’d just called a brake repair place in our town and that the guy there said he would take a look at the truck to see if the (wonnerful) folks at Dodge were messing around with my Johnson & Johnson (my words, not my wife’s). Turns out, they were.
This does get better. Stay tuned…