Car Dealer

I went to the Mazda Dealer today to get my car fixed. Before you say, “WHY WOULD YOU GO TO THE DEALER TO GET YOUR CAR FIXED?”, the work in question was still covered under warranty. I went there because the mechanics at my local gas station (whom I trust) told me that my exhaust manifold was leaking. I called the Dealer to see if this repair would be covered under the warranty. It is covered, so I brought the car in to the Dealer. The very nice young attendant at the Service Counter drove my car around and told me that he couldn’t hear anything indicating a problem with the exhaust manifold. They could take the car apart and look, but if the exhaust manifold was found to be fine, I would be charged for the labor.

Now, here’s what I know about cars-they have four wheels and they go, “Vroom, Vroom.” Why would I trust the nice guy at the Dealer steering me away from having expensive warranty work done? While he was “helping” me decide what to do, a pretty woman with a cute little dog walked in. My issues quickly faded into the background as the attendant began a flirtatious round of pleasantries concerning her dog. After a few minutes of listening to a comparison between her little dog and his little dog, I asked him if I was almost done. I told him that it is hard for me to stand for long periods of time. Even though I don’t know much about cars, I do know when I’m getting good service (and when I’m NOT). The teacher in me wanted to instruct him in methods of decent customer service. The bitch in me wanted to write him a nasty email and cc his supervisor. The car owner in me just wants my car to be fixed before the warranty expires!

In addition to knowing when I’m getting decent service, I also know that information resources available to me are enormous. It doesn’t really matter that I don’t know much about my car. I have immediate access to people who do. I never have to make an important decision alone–as long as I have my cell phone!

I called my dad (who lives across the country), and we decided that I would hold off on the expensive gamble until I had another friend take a look at my car.

If you’re wondering which side of me won–the teacher, the bitch, or the car owner–a little bit of each came out. I emailed the attendant and gave him some constructive criticism. I wasn’t too bitchy, but I made sure he knew how painful it was for me to stand there that long while he was busy flirting. The car owner side of me is still collecting advice. An informed decision will soon be made.