(I am the phone operator for the service department of an auto dealership. I receive incoming calls to the service department, and also send out calls for scheduled maintenance reminders, completed service, and recall notifications. I receive a call from a customer.)

Me: “Service Department. This is [My Name]; can I help you?”

Caller: “I received a call about a recall open on my car; I would like to find out what the recall is.”

Me: “I would be happy to find that out. Just a moment while I access your account.” *pulls it up on computer* “Okay, ma’am, I’m showing the open recall is for the evaporative canister, which is part of the emissions system.”

Caller: *screaming* “I swear to God, I hate your dealership! I had this taken care of! You need to take me off the f****** list!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I must ask: did you get this done at a [My Automaker] dealership? Unless it is taken care of at a [My Automaker] dealership, the recall will remain open on your vehicle.”

Caller: *still screaming* “It doesn’t matter where I had the f****** job done; it was done, so take me off the list and stop calling me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, this is a [My Automaker] national list. I do not have the authority to alter that list. If you—“

Caller: *still angry* “I know I’ve dealt with you before! You’re nothing but a rude, stupid, ignorant b****!”

Me: *banging phone until customer hangs up, breaking my keyboard in the process*

Service Advisor: *in the hallway with frightened look* “Are you okay?”

Me: “No.” *explains what happened*

Service Advisor: *puts a note in the system to refuse service to this person in the future*

(If this person got the canister replaced with an original part, that part must still be replaced with the redesigned part to comply with the recall. If she does have the original part replaced with the recall part at another shop, she can get reimbursed, but only by contacting [My Automaker]; otherwise, she’s out her own money. And if this part isn’t replaced with the redesigned part, she will likely fail the Illinois automotive emissions tests, and be forced to get the care repaired anyway. Knowing this makes me feel a bit better.)

(I work in the parts department of a car dealership. As such, we sell our fair share of tires. I know not everyone knows their tire size off the top of their head, but most people know enough about their vehicle for us to be able to easily to figure the size out — things like year, model, and trim level, if need be. Not this caller.)

Me: “[Dealer] parts; how can I help you?”

Caller: “I need to get a quote on a set of winter tires for my [Our Dealer Brand].”

Me: “Okay, do you happen to know your tire size?”

Caller: “Uh… No, I don’t, sorry.”

Me: “Not a problem. What model of [Brand] do you drive?”

Caller: “It’s a 2012. or ’11. I’m not sure.”

(We get this a lot: people answering a different qualifying question than the one we asked. Things are still pretty normal it this point, but then this happens:)

Me: “Okay, but which model is it?” *lists off two or three of our most common models*

Caller: “Oh!” *short silence* “I don’t know.”

(I don’t quite know what to say. I’ve never had a customer that was completely unsure of what they drive. So after a short pause, I ask:)

Me: “Is it a car, truck, or SUV?”

Caller: “I don’t know.”

Me: *head-desking already* “Well, is it a—“ *lists off every model we currently sell, or have sold in the last ten years or so*

Caller: “No, it’s none of those.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it has to be one of those. Are you near the vehicle? Or do you have a copy of your insurance or registration handy?”

Caller: “It’s in the garage. How can I find out what it is by looking at it?”

Me: “There should be a name badge on the trunk or rear hatch.”

Caller: “Okay.” *short pause* “It’s a—“ *garbles the model badly*

(I’m blown away. The name of the model I decipher it to be is six letters long, and pronounced exactly as it is spelled.)

Me: “You mean an [Automobile]?”

Caller: “No, that doesn’t sound right.”

Me: *head on desk* “Okay, hold on a moment.”

(I throw together a quote for some tires that may or may not fit the car, but at this point, in a matter of thirty seconds, the caller has made me lose any motivation to try and sell them some tires. I give the price and tell them that without knowing what kind of car it is, I can’t guarantee the price will be right. The caller agrees, and hangs up.)

Manager: *hearing my side of the conversation* “Fun one?”

(We never heard from them again.)

(Our dealership service department runs a skeleton crew on Saturdays; on the weekdays there are five service advisors working but on Saturdays there’s only one. I’m the newest employee and therefore I’m the “lucky” one to work Saturdays. This means if anyone has a question on Saturday they get me, even if they usually work with someone else. A customer approaches me and tells me she’s glad to see a woman working in my position and that she’s had experiences with men in shops treating her like she doesn’t know anything. She starts to ask questions about a symptom she’s having, then asks if the vehicle might still be under warranty. Different cars carry different warranties, so I ask her for more information.)

Me: “What kind of car do you have?”

Customer: “Um… I’m not sure.”

Me: *wondering how some people have no idea what they drive, though it happens periodically* “Has it been here before? I can try looking it up in our system.”

Customer: “Oh, yes, I’ve brought it here many times!”

Me: “Perfect! Let’s try to find you in the computer. What’s your phone number? That’s the easiest way to look up cars in our database; the last name lookup function can be buggy sometimes.”

Customer: “Um… I’m not sure. Try [number].”

Me: *types it in* “It doesn’t look like it came up under that number. Do you have another?”

Customer: “Try [different number].”

Me: *tries the new number* “Nope, still no luck. Sorry.”

Customer: “I can’t think of any other numbers.”

Me: “Maybe we should try your last name after all; it does work most of the time.”

Customer: “Um… I don’t know what name it’s under… How about a social security number? I bet that would find it!”

Me: “No. We don’t do financing in the service department, so we would never collect information like that about a customer, let alone save it.”

Customer: “Oh. I guess I didn’t buy the car from you guys, anyway, so I never would have filled that out here even for the credit.”

Me: “Yeah, let’s try the name lookup. What’s your last name?”

Customer: “I don’t know; I’m not sure what name it’s under. Try [Name that’s usually a first name].”

Me: *types it in and it doesn’t come up* “It doesn’t seem to be working… Just to be sure, that’s your last name?”

Customer: “No, it’s my first name.”

Me: “Sorry about that! It does file by last names. What’s yours?”

Customer: “[First Name].”

Me: “No, your last name.”

Customer: “[First Name].”

(When she did eventually manage to remember what her last name was, surprise! We found her car in the system. But I still wonder how she doesn’t know what type of car she drives, what her phone number is, or what her name is, but was SURE I could find her car with her specific social security number that she was so ready to give out. I also did not tell her that when people treat her like she doesn’t know anything… it’s probably not because she’s a woman.)

(I work at a dealership. At 3:56 pm, a car pulls up into the service drive. My coworker greets the customer driving the car.)

Customer: “Hi! I’m here for my appointment, but I’m a little late.”

Coworker: “Oh, what time was your appointment?”

Customer: “I forget. 9:15? 9:45?”

(Their appointment was for 8:45 am. “A little late,” indeed. We had them reschedule. We’ll see if they’ll maybe be a little less late next time.)

A few years ago I was working at a dealership for a manufacturer that produces notoriously terrible cars. Our service department was open on Christmas Eve, though with shorter hours than normal. I was hoping to get out a bit extra-early — which I did! — we booked light, but of course, we kept hoping that unexpected cars wouldn’t show up. Around noon, a car without an appointment pulled into the driveway, and when I saw who was getting out I thought, “Crap! Why is she here?”

She was a customer I knew well: an older Russian lady who was perfectly nice, but paranoid and oversensitive about her car. We’d had quite a few occurrences of her coming for “symptoms” that were not, in fact, actual issues but just the normal operation of a crappy sort of car. Helping her also tended to be rather time-consuming as English was not her first language. I was dreading finding out why she had pulled in.

She came to bring me a box of chocolates and thank me for being so helpful to her over the past year, taking the time to explain her car’s idiosyncrasies and make her feel safe driving it. She said she knew she could be difficult, but that she really appreciated knowing that I was there to help her out and keep her mind at ease.

The gesture had a big impact: I’d been getting jaded, but she really helped me remember why I love my job, and how even the frustrating moments can be part of a rosier big picture. I continued to work with her, but dreaded seeing her far less as I was able to remember how our visits could be rewarding for both her and me. A year and a half later, when her lease ended and she turned the car in, she brought me her favorite snack from her home country, gave me a big tearful hug, and told me if the car wasn’t so terrible she would’ve bought out the lease so she could keep coming to see me for service. I don’t know what she’s driving now, but I hope it’s taking good care of her!

Related:
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 14
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 13
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 12