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Strike Two

I get tired of people dicking around with me.

Case in point?  I picked my new car up from the dealership yesterday afternoon.  This time the check engine light came on before I got halfway home.

The gloves were off and I started making phone calls and I was not in the mood to be polite.

Short of it is that I’m in a loaner car again, fed up, and laughing at the temerity of the dealership’s emails about “hoping to hear about my stellar experience” with their business.  They heard about it all right, but I made it very clear I wasn’t going to tolerate another fuck up.  Hell, under Arizona’s Lemon Law a third repair for the same issue inside of a year is an automatic classification as a lemon.  I can just imagine the heyday a lawyer would have with the fact that half a week later I’ve only had the car in my possession for about two hours total – and only that long because I unleashed a shitstorm on the phone before driving it back to the lot the second time.

Saddest part is that I genuinely like the car.  I do.  I would love to keep and drive it.  I just have this crazy idea that driving entails – oh yeah – it should RUN.  It should be running right when I pull it out of their driveway, particularly since their website brags about a bumper-to-bumper warranty on all their pre-owned vehicles.  (Which is not true since you’re required to sign an as-is waiver.)

I’m still remaining Zen about it in general.  Everything happens for a reason.  As I was discussing with G, I’d rather this be resolved up front than several months from now when the dealership’s personnel would just thumb their noses at me.  If what I suspect was true about the necessary repair, it wouldn’t keep the car from running but would cost me several hundred bucks worth of fixing the dealer should be eating now, to get it through emissions next year.  Would absolutely prefer to get the problem resolved and out of the way now, even if it tweaks my last nerve.

That’s not to say I apologize for becoming combative about it.  Being patronized because the idiots at this lot figured I as a woman wouldn’t know any better?  Bad move on their part.  Really bad move.  As much as I prefer to avoid conflict at almost any cost, there are times when anger is the only correct response.  This was one of those times. My remaining night’s project is to defer my anger for the times when it is appropriate and necessary, instead of bringing even a sliver of it home with me.

The car dealership deserves my ire.  My family doesn’t, and I’ve got much better things to do than beat myself up because I was essentially fed disinformation about the whole deal.

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