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The proverbial cork had been popped. The fuse had been blown. The butt had been chaffed. The serenity was lost. I had overheated. I was done. I was raging. I was friggin hot. Words cannot even express the level of frustration that I reached yesterday. My God, I was angry. I was old school angry- like shaky, crying, fixin to bust someone’s head kind of angry. I was pissed.
I took Amanda’s vehicle back to the dealership to have an alignment issue resolved, which was supposed to have been resolved two weeks ago. On top of long wait times, incorrect information, an outstanding demonstration of incompetency, and an entire dealership of apathetic employees, there was a team smart ass-ed service writers in charge of “providing me with customer care”. It was a disaster.
I really had no place that I needed to be, as I could work from my computer inside their customer lounge. However, the wait time reached a level of ridiculousness. It was abundantly clear that the person in charge of my service was overloaded, and I had been passed on to someone else. Upon approaching the desk to inquire about the status of my vehicle….let’s just say that it all went to hell from there. When I say, “it went to hell”, I mean the wheels fell off. It was not a good scene. The communication was not good, all defenses were up, my bunker mentality had surfaced, and their pre-existing frustrations were glaring. I zoned in on the lady’s computer monitor and pondered smashing it, just to prove a point. I looked at the roundness of the man’s head behind the counter, and I thought about squeezing it off, so as to roll it into the sales office. I was at full tilt. Game over. Disqualification. Ejected for targeting. Lifetime ban on good auto-driver-maintenance-customer-person Hall of Fame. I was going full flipping Donkey Kong. Someone was about to die. Enter Flo-Rida….it was goin down, fo real.
I received the keys to the vehicle, only to find that one of the two issues had not even been addressed. I went into the sales office to see if I could find the salesperson, who sold me the vehicle. I felt like maybe he would be receptive to either my frustrations, or a boot in his rear. The salesperson was not there, so I spoke with a sales manager. This went kinda, sorta, maybe, a teeny, tiny, little bit better. But, I was still hot. As I was leaving, I made sure to tell the approaching lot salesman that the entire place, and everything within it, including the people and automobiles, was absolute garbage…
…and then I drove off.
As I left the lot, I still felt unsettled. I needed something else. This was not over, and I had not satisfied whatever it was that was eating at me. So, I took to the interwebs. I crawled on Google and left them a bad review. “I’ll show them, right?” This should fix it. This should fix it in a way that will demonstrate what a mature, responsible, and level-headed adult that I am. I pulled over, I logged into Google, and I pressed the “1 Star” button and wrote my review. This was what I said,
“Service is garbage. Warranty is garbage. Customer service is a disaster. You would be treated better if you had your oil changed at the DMV. They are the Comcast of car servicing.”
That should do it, right? I have sufficiently demonstrated temper and ability to focus on counter-productive behavior, and my unwillingness to let things go. I should feel great….except I don’t. I’m still pissed.
I make another phone back to the dealership to discuss what just happened. We speak in acceptable levels and treat each other with an adequate level of decency. I am starting to calm, but still not feeling satiated. Nothing seems to be working. I cannot move on until I have some closure in this stupid conflict. I have tried everything. Everything except…..
How could I forget?
Pause when agitated.
Some of us are familiar with this term, right?
Pause. When. Agitated.
Well, I completely forgot. While I was raging like some steroid fed bull, I forgot that infusing anger into anger yields more anger. As I sat there on hold with the sales manager, I took a couple of deep breaths. I relaxed my shoulders, and I lowered my tone. I told him that I wanted to back up and punt the football. I expressed my lack of satisfaction with the servicing of my vehicle and the level of customer service. I then apologized for my childish behavior, and expressed remorse if I had been disrespectful to anyone on a personal level. I told him that I could have handled that differently, and I wanted to move past it. We ended the phone call….and it all melted away.
Serenity had returned, while the past episode seemed like something from a bi-polar comedy skit. I laughed to myself while driving down the road, and I gave thanks for all of the tough lessons that I have learned in my life, as well as all of the grace that I had been given. Pause. It can be so hard. Pause. It is not a habit which comes naturally to me. Pause. As someone who teeters on the edge of insanity, on my best of days, and is capapble of jumping the “insane train” at any moment. Pause. It is almost always my best and most necessary option. It helps. It really, really does.
Have a great day. Pause.
Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,
Wilson, I know exactly what you felt like. I myself wanted to punch some people many times. If I were taller I might have tried it. I did what you said stop and breath deep and try to be nice and hope to find a way that is agreeable to both parties. Nine times out of ten I was not happy and never returned to the place again. If any one asked me about a place I would tell them I was not happy with their service, but maybe they would be. I left to who ever to do what they wanted to do.
It’s hard for me sometimes, but I tend to do a better job of remaining calm, at this stage of my life. However, this was not one of those times.
Thanks for reading. I hope you are well.