I got a letter from a VP at the dealership where we bought Lacey’s new car. He wanted me to call if I had any problems. He said in the letter he wanted me to be completely satisfied. I am not so I called with a short list.
I think the fellow was having a bad day even though it was early morning. From the first seconds of the call, he sounded put out. Funny thing is, he was returning my call. If he wasn’t ready to satisfy customers completely, he should have waited a minute or a few hours to call.
We got through item one with a promise to sort it right away. No “sorry,” but he probably lives very near the 7th unfriendliest city in the USA so I shouldn’t expect expressions of regret.
The second item on my list didn’t go as well. I introduced the issue and his first words were “NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT THAT.” Nothing? There is always something, right? Cash is good, but not expected. How about a book of free car washes or some accessory tossed in? At minimum I’d expect “Sorry to hear that… I will look into it right away and get back to you.” Oh well. We can’t all be good at satisfying customers.
I soldiered on and explained my concern. He was argumentative, first in gruff tones then with a raised and angry voice. I interrupted and said I had more items on my list but was finished with the call as it was clear he wasn’t interested in satisfying this customer. He continued hollering as I hung up. Shocked. Still am. The dealership would have done well to be made aware of the salesperson’s performance issues, all of them, and would do well to have someone else troubleshoot customer concerns. I’m done with helping them. I’ve done them enough favors. Thousands of them in a certified cashier’s check. Onward.
I did my best to disburse that cloud. Frida got two nice walks. That helped, except the part where we pass the tree where Frida recently played with the happy baby squirrel. The poor dear is being folded into the soil with the help of worms and flies. So sad. If I were younger at heart I’d bring a trowel and lower him or her twelve inches or so. As it is, I will just witness the process, every other day (when Frida turns left out of the drive).
Then the phone rings. Community garden head office. They inspected the gardens and found mine to be pretty weedy. Asked if I have been there recently. My face couldn’t have been straighter, but I was polite. I am headed there today. I know what is there, but I want to look at my plot through someone else’s eyes. There are a few weeds (mostly crab grass) between the cucumber vines but nothing I’d expect to warrant a warning.
I’ll keep an open mind. Still, I wonder if they had the right plot. Probably. I wonder if they know what tomatillo plants look like. I wonder if they know that I am letting two of my mustard green plants go to seed so more will show up next year. I wonder if they know I am letting the wild onions grow and harvest them in bunches. They gave me a week to clean it up. I feel like a criminal.
See the theme? Feeling sorry for myself, I am. Lacey offered a very sweet shoulder to whine on last night. Incredible, really. After her days of being cried all over that she has a dry spot left for my tears…
Today will be better. I’m going to will it into being. Take care.