November 2, 1999. Melbourne Cup Day.
Dear Diary;
Just dropped into my local VW dealer today for the first time. The radio in my brand new 99 EVC stopped working and the under-dash fuse was OK. I called and the service guy, whose name I did not remember, told me there was a one-week wait for a service stall but that I could bring the EVC in any time that afternoon and they would pull the radio and look at it.
When I got to the dealer I spent a delightful 10 minutes standing expectantly at the head of Service Row. Nobody talked to me, although one person did look inside the van and decided *not* to put down paper floormats. Finally I wandered into an office and Steve (as I later discovered) asked me what he could do. I explained my visit. He said there was nothing he could do for a week. I repeated the phone conversation. He made the point that it was not *he* who had answered the phone (a point he would make at least 5 times more). I could not deny it. Nevertheless, I wondered silently why, if it was critical to whom I had spoken, that he did not try to find out. Looking back, I realize this was probably Step One in the time-honored process of making the customer feel like a putz.
Steve looked at the radio. Aftermarket, he asked? Bad move Steve. No, I said, thats the standard radio for EVCs, it and the van are brand new, and the radio doesnt work.
I made the point that what I did *not* want to do was come down in a week for an appointment only to be told that they would need to order a new radio and I would get to wait another 2-3 weeks. Steve said it would only take 2-3 days. I said, thats OK, if it really is only 2-3 days. Steve waffled. I asked how long it *would* take. Steve asked me why I was being so hard on him? I replied I was not trying to be hard on him, just trying to get the facts straight. I wondered, silently again, at why this was turning into a personal thing. And again, looking back, this appears to have been a little riff preliminary to Step Two in the Customer Putz process.
Steve asked, did I buy the van here? I was dumbstruck by the brilliance of the question. In one short sentence he had laid a guilt trip on me for betraying my local dealer. Never mind that his dealership didnt have any for sale, or that dealers make their money on service, not sales. Yes, this was definitely Step Two, and the fact that the selling dealers cardboard inserts were prominently displayed in the license plate frames takes nothing away from his timing.
No, I said, flushing. Perhaps, Steve murmured, *your* dealer would have a radio in stock? Unlikely, I said, thinking fast. He only gets 3-4 EVCs a year. At any rate, he is 50 miles away so I called you first. Well, said Steve, if it were the president of the company you had called Id clear a stall and get it done right away. Step Three.
Standoff. Steve asked to see the registration and went back to his office. I peeled it off the windshield and followed him. Oh, its new, he said. I began to feel momentum coming back to my side at this restatement of the obvious. Then Steve capitulated. He told me to go get a cup of coffee and someone would take a look. 45 minutes later I walked back to his office (without being called) and it was ready. Diagnosis - you need a new radio. Well call you when it's in. And a final shot - he had to take two people off the line to check this out. Step Four, but the last for today. Ridden with guilt, I trudged back to my van.
When I got home I discovered the left low beams were dead. We had been talking about fuses, and opening the fuse door had caused a 10A fuse to fall to the floor. It was nowhere to be found, and a 10A fuse was missing from the left low beam slot. Should I call and ask for the fuse back? Naah. Ill just visit Radio Shack. I *will* call in 3 days to see if the radio is in. Any predictions?
One thing I guarantee - Ill get the guys name in case theres another pop quiz during my next visit.
-- Chuck
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Chuck Bragg, Santa Monica Bay Audubon
cgbragg@...
fax: 209-671-6396
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