moneygrabber

There's an old joke. A guy calls a plumber to fix a small leak in a pipe. The plumber arrives and he's led down the basement steps to view the leak. The plumber examines the pipe from all angles, assessing the situation. Finally, he says to the homeowner, "This looks like a 'Miami job.'" The homeowner asks, "You mean you saw a similar type of leak on a job in Miami?" "No," the plumber clarifies, "I mean with the money I get from you for this repair, I'll be able to spend a month in Miami."

Before I purchased a new car this past May, I drove my trusty Toyota RAV-4 for nearly twenty years. Over the course of two decades — as you can imagine — my car required its fair share of maintenance and repairs, as well as yearly safety inspections required by the state of Pennsylvania. When my car needed service, I took it to a mechanic named Dewey whose shop is in my neighborhood. Dewey is a nice guy, I guess. He would sometimes pick my car up at my house and drop it off when the work was completed. He has a genial demeanor, often limiting the technical jargon when he was explaining the repair that my car would need after I told of the abnormalities I thought my car was experiencing. 

The repairs that my car required — at any given visit to Dewey's shop — were extensive. Always. Even for annual inspections, at times when my car was running — in my opinion — just fine, Dewey would find something within the confines of my vehicle's body that would cost me a couple hundred dollars. Always. Once I needed a new headlight. While changing the headlight, Dewey told me that discovered that the intake valve of the deferential influx capacitor was not in tip-top working order. He innocently asked if I'd like it replaced and soon, a lousy new headlight was costing me four hundred bucks. State inspections  that should cost around fifty dollars, would always require some crucial engine component. Without a replacement, my car would not pass inspection and possible lead to a more serious issue. Of course, the new part would set me back a few hundred dollars. This went on for years. I don't think Dewey was an incompetent mechanic. I think he just went out of his way to find something wrong with my car every time I brought in. He wasn't going to let me take possession of my vehicle without a payment of at least a hundred bucks. I know nothing about the innerworkings of a car, so I was at the mercy of Dewey's perceived "expertise." So, I had him make any repair he suggested and I paid whatever he told me the bill was.

... until this year when I purchased a 2024 Subaru Crosstrek for the price of my 2004 Toyota RAV-4 and an undisclosed amount of cash. Because of the delicate computer system that is standard on new cars, I purchased an extended warranty on my new vehicle, thus eliminating any future dealing with Dewey. I would be taking my new car to the Subaru dealership for state inspections, any future maintenance and eventual repairs. My wife, who drives a 2018 Toyota takes her car to a Toyota dealer for maintenance, so, as far as I can see, Dewey is out of our lives. As a matter of fact, Mrs. P ran into Dewey at the supermarket and told him that I had purchased a new car. She said he appeared happy and wished me "good luck" with the car.

One day last week, Mrs. Pincus returned from running errands to discover that her car had a flat tire. After the involuntarily voicing of a few choice words, she called AAA and waited for someone to come and change the tire. Afterwards, we discussed her options for getting the flat tire repaired... and repaired quickly. First, we considered the Toyota dealer, but without an appointment for service, who knows how long the wait would be for a "walk-in" repair. The last thing Mrs. P — or anyone — wants to do is spend countless, non-productive hours in car dealership waiting room. The next option was rather obvious — Dewey.. We were fairly sure that Dewey, who operates a one-man repair shop, — would be only too happy to fix a quick flat tire for a member of the Pincus family. After all, we were loyal customers for over twenty years. (Yep, we took our cars before my Toyota to Dewey!) 

The next morning, Mrs. P took her "temporary spare tire equipped" car over to Dewey's shop. I, of course, had left for work a few hours earlier. That afternoon, I called my wife to see about the progress of — what I assumed — would be a fast repair. 

"How's your car?" my text to my wife read.

A few minutes later, I received this response...

She went to to explain that — according to Dewey's expert assessment — her car would need four new tires and rear brakes. 

Apparently, Dewey missed us.

Desperately.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

come to me for service

I bought a new car this past May. I am enjoying driving around in a car that isn't 20 years old, not worrying about that new strange noise that I didn't hear yesterday and how much it's going to cost to make that new strange noise stop. 

A week or so ago, I came home from work to find that I had received a Safety Recall Notice from Subaru Corporate Headquarters. This recall includes my five-month old Subaru Crosstrek. Receiving a recall notice is the equivalent of your car being selected for jury duty. First off, it's an inconvenience. A day off from work has to be scheduled. A day sitting in the waiting room at the service area of a car dealership isn't most folks idea of a productive day. Personally, I dread the thought as well as the actual experience. (Same goes for jury duty.)

Following the instructions in the recall notice, I called the dealership at which I purchased my car. Once connected with the service department, I explained about the notice and the fellow on the other end of the phone asked "The wire harness recall, right?"

"Is there another recall?" I thought. What the fuck? What kind of bomb-lemon-reject did Subaru sell me? Instead, I just replied in the affirmative. "Yes," I said, "the wire harness recall." I briefly scanned the recall notice before making the call to schedule a service appointment. It seemed that a manufacturing flaw was detected and a plastic wire harness that sits atop the steering column could melt, thus short-circuiting the car's electrical system. The text explained that an inspection of my car would alleviate the problem, if caught in time. If left unattended, it could involve an all-day repair. None of this, however would incur any cost to me.... except for my time. I scheduled an appointment for a Saturday morning and told the service tech that I would prefer to wait during the inspection. He assured me it would take approximately forty-five minutes. The anxiety that accompanies waiting at a car dealership began.

A few days before my service, my friend Consuelo posted an account of a very positive experience with a Subaru dealer. Consuelo has a Crosstrek a few years older than mine. There was an issue with one of the car's tires. She took it to a Subaru dealer, not the one from which she purchased the car. The mechanic sent a video record, showing the repair. She was treated with respect. The service was efficient. The whole experience reinforced the "family" reputation that made me want to purchase a Subaru in the first place. My nerves were put at ease and I no longer had that sense of trepidation about my upcoming appointment.

Saturday rolled around. I had an earlier appointment for a haircut, but would have plenty of time to make it to the Subaru dealership in time for my recall inspection. I had only been to this dealership three times - once to buy my car. Once to pick up my new car and take possession of it and once more to have a little orientation about the sophisticated on-onboard computer system that controlled everything in the car. I was not familiar with the process of showing up for car service. I pulled into the dealership parking lot and parked in the customer parking lot. I walked in to the building and was greeted by a smiling young lady at the reception desk. "Hi," she beamed, "Welcome to Subaru! How can I help you?" Her smile took up most of her face. This was encouraging. I explained about the recall notice and that I had never been here for service. She stood up from behind the desk and escorted me across the lobby to the service department. This was also encouraging. She pointed to a space near the service counter and told me someone would be with me shortly.

So, I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. While I waited, I was ignored by every blue-topped, beige-pantsed employee that walked by. And there were a lot of them.

As I waited, I watched one young man behind the service counter tapping away at a keyboard as he conversed with a worried-looking woman. There were two other customers ahead of me, anxious to step up once the worried woman's issue was satisfied. The keyboard-tapping man left his post and returned several times, leaving the worried-looking woman to grow even more concerned. Once, he passed me and mumbled: "M'll bewithyoo mint." with I deciphered to mean "I'll be with you in a minute." He wasn't. My initial feeling of encouragement was waning.

I watched as more and more people entered the service area through a set of automatic doors that separated the service desk from the actual area where cars were queued up for there various services. Each of the folks who came to the service area were greeted by an employee and asked to take a place at the counter. I stood and watched like an outsider. An invisible outsider. More men and women in Subaru-logoed clothing passed me, hurrying off to tend to a customer that wasn't me.

Finally, I left my assigned post and went to my car. I pulled it around to the service entrance, following posted instruction to "PULL FORWARD SLOWLY. DOOR WILL OPEN AUTOMATICALLY." Sure enough, the door rose and I navigated my car into the building, stopping behind a green Forrester with a decal from a Golden Retriever Club adhered to the rear window. The car's owner exited the driver's door. She opened the backdoor to release a large, rambunctious Golden Retriever from the confines of the backseat. The woman — of slight build and stature — looked as though she could be overpowered by this hulking canine at any moment. She lazily attached a flimsy leash to its collar and the dog paced quickly in circles around her. She followed a serviceman into the showroom.

And I waited. And waited. And waited.

Mohommed, Jugdish, Sidney and Clayton

Eventually, a young man (a different young man) with an iPad approached my car. "Are you here for an oil change?" he asked. I explained the reason for my visit. He directed me to leave my key fob in the car and take my place by the service desk where someone would be with me shortly. I walked back inside and stood where I had stood before - in my spot of being ignored. I was instantly reminded of a scene from National Lampoon's Animal House when smarmy Doug Neidermeyer is trying to ditch prospective pledges Larry Kroger and Kent Dorfman at a Fraternity Rush Party. I felt like Larry and Kent. I was slowly losing my patience and all signs of the "family feeling" reputation at Subaru was slipping away.

After a few more minutes, a man in a button-down Subaru dress shirt stopped and asked if I was being helped. He had passed me several times earlier and I supposed he grew concerned when he saw I had not changed position in nearly twenty minutes. Again, I explained about the recall and he led me to a spot at the service desk at the very end of the counter. He introduced himself as "John" and in an effort to redeem the good name of Subaru, speedily checked me in. He led me to the waiting area, pointing out an array of complimentary refreshments on the way. He aske me to have a seat, assuring me that the inspection should have me out of here by noon. A few minutes after I found a seat by the front window, my phone vibrated with a text message from John. He told me to contact him if he could be of further assistance while I waited.

No charge

True to his word, John returned to the waiting area and announced my name. He led me back to his computer terminal, saying that the inspection was complete, the repair was made and there, of course, would be no charge. He reminded me that a six-month oil change was approaching in November. No appointment was necessary and it was complementary, He led me out to my car, thanked me again for my patience and for choosing Subaru. He waved as I pulled out of the service area.

Although, they did wash my car, I'm not looking forward to that oil change.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com