Why Me?!

On October 29, I was in a teeny-tiny fender-bender. I was backing out of a parking spot, and there was an enormous SUV parked next to me. So I was backing very slowly, watching my mirrors and trying to see past this behemoth next to me, when I hear a crunch. I look in my rearview mirror, and two shocked faces are staring back at me.

I get out of my car and so does the driver I’ve crunched. My bumper is askew and the lens on one of my taillights is broken. His car (a Mercedes, of all things) has a scuff on the bumper. He’s very nice. We exchange information, and I drive home, file my claim online, and wait to hear from an agent.

Monday, 1 November, I get the call from the agent and tell her which body shop I want to use (Brewer’s, if you’re in Memphis, is the best body shop ever), and she says she will set everything up. She asks if I want a rental car and I tell her I do. I mean, I have a job and scout meetings and karate classes to go to, and since the shop is going to have to do some paint work, I’m going to be without a car for several days. So yeah, I want a rental. She says to let her know when I’m taking the car in and she will set everything up.

So I talk to the body shop, take the car in for an estimate, and we agree that I’ll bring the car in on Monday, 8 November, and leave it for repair. (They have to get the right parts. Quarter-panel, bumper, shocks and struts, and heaven knows what else.)

So I call the adjuster and leave a voice mail telling her that I’m taking the car in on the eighth and will need a rental for a week to ten days. Never hear back from her. Didn’t worry too much about it until I tried again on the eighth and got transferred to some other adjuster. Who also wasn’t in. And who called me back while I was away from my desk for five minutes, left a message that my adjuster was on vacation, but she’d be glad to help me, and could I clarify the claim number for her. And who wasn’t in when I called her back … every thirty minutes for the next three hours. Still, I’d left my adjuster a message a week ago, so it should all be set. Right?

HA!

(quick backtrack) Five years ago, shortly after I bought my car, a guy backed into me and I had to go through this same procedure. It was very smooth. I took the car to the shop, the rental peeps had a car waiting for me, we filled out all the paperwork and I still had time to pick up some lunch and get to the office before my lunch hour ends. So I’m expecting this to go equally smoothly. Stupid of me, really. (end of backtrack)

Monday lunch hour rolls around, and I pick up Mom and the kids so we can still have lunch together. We go down to the body shop and drop off the car. The rental people say they will pick me up in five or ten minutes. Okay. No problem.
Fifteen minutes later, they show up. We cram into the car and they take us to the rental place. Where we find that my adjuster has NOT set up the rental. I don’t have a credit card (well, I do, but not with me because I am trying to pay them off and stop being in debt), I don’t have a debit card (bad experience with that one), and my day-planner with claim numbers, adjusters’ numbers, and everything else is not in my purse.

The car agent can’t get anyone on the phone at my insurance company. I can’t get anyone on the phone at my insurance company. I call my coworker and ask her to look at my desk to see if my planner is there. She finds it in my briefcase … I must have put it there instead of my purse as I was running out the door. She reads me off all the numbers. (Bless her!)

I call the adjuster. She’s still not in. I call my boss, because my lunch hour’s over. She’s not in either, so I leave her a voice-mail explaining what’s going on. I try the adjuster again. Not in. I call the local office. They give me a number to call. I call that number. They can’t help me, but they give me another number where someone can. I call that number. They can’t help me either, but they give me yet ANOTHER number to call. I call that number and demand to speak to an adjuster. Any adjuster. I’m put on hold. For six minutes. Finally, my adjuster comes on the line.

And has the unmitigated effrontery to tell me that I obviously haven’t been calling her number, because she’s been at her desk. Now, the ONLY number I had was this woman’s number, and I’d even called the 800-number and asked for her by name. It was her voice mail that picked up every time I called. But whatever. I had her now.

She sets up the rental. I give the reservation number to the rental car people. All is well. Except that this rental place has nothing on the lot for me. They’ll have something shortly, don’t worry. Probably a Cobalt. (What the dickens is a Cobalt?!)

I go outside to walk in the cool air and calm down, because it’s hot as blue blazes in the rental car office, and me being beside myself with frustration isn’t making me any cooler. And besides, mom and the kids are out there, because the kids were getting restless. While I wait, I try to call my boss again, since I’ve now been “at lunch” for two hours. She’s still not in.

I go back inside for a minute and overhear the manager telling one of the clerks to “take these keys and drive that van to West Memphis and pick up a Cobalt. I’ll tell them to have it running for you, because this lady’s been waiting for it.” Oh, no, you didn’t just say that. Yeah. He did.

Then this couple drives up in a little bitty car. And the manager comes out and says, “I’m just going to clean this up and let you take it.” Holy cow … I’m not sure I will FIT in that thing. It’s minuscule! But as he drives past, I see “Cobalt” on the back of it. Well, I guess that’s my rental. Wow.

So half an hour later, we’re on our way. I try to call my boss again. She’s not in. I leave her a message saying that since I am all the way down on Third Street and it’s 3:45, there’s not much point in my coming back to the office, which is in far East Memphis not far from Germantown, so I will just come in early and work late the next couple days to make up my unexpected three-hour absence. I then call another co-worker to cover the reception desk during my late-afternoon shift. And I go get some lunch. (At 4:30. Yeah. Can we say “what blood sugar?”)

So I filled up the car and I’ve driven the little bitty car a bit. It’s okay, but it’s a tin can on wheels. I bump my head and twist my ankles getting out, because I’m used to a Honda CRV, which has head room and sits pretty high off the ground. But it’s a car. So I grumble at its idiosyncrasies and drive it with a smile. Almost. It’s also got Massachusetts tags, so everyone thinks I’m a Yankee, and therefore, fair game. Sigh. I’m a born and bred Southern belle, and I will never live down the shame of those tags. But anyway.

So this afternoon, I get a call from the rental agency. They need me to bring the car in and swap it out, because it’s actually been sold and wasn’t supposed to leave the lot. Are. You. Kidding. Me?! Fortunately, we’re working it out. I’ll take it to a closer branch tomorrow and swap it. Only I insist on getting a car with a full tank, because it was just under half-full when I got it, and I’m having to turn it in with a nearly full tank. Yeah. I want a full tank of gas in that car.

But good grief, what a complete mess. Why does this crazy stuff always happen to me?

Tags: challenges, True Stories