What The Truck? Part 2

, , , , | Working | March 28, 2018

(The morning my friend and I are set to leave our hotel, the valet informs me that my car won’t start. I call my dad, and we figure it’s the fuel pump. The valet helps me find the only car repair place in town that’s open on Sundays, and I arrange for towing. About an hour later, I get a phone call from someone with a very heavy accent who doesn’t speak English very well. He’s the tow truck driver, and he can’t find the giant theme park resort hotel we’re staying in. We eventually communicate well enough that he figures out what hotel he needs. As I used valet parking, I do not know exactly where my car is. I give him the number for the hotel people so he can get the details from them. Not long after, I get a call from the valet telling me that the tow truck is a giant flatbed that’s too big to fit into the parking garage. I call the 1-800 number and arrange for a smaller truck to retrieve my car. The call center lady gives me the direct phone number to the local towing company they contract with, in case I should need it. Several hours later, I get a call from the valet asking when the second tow truck is going to arrive. I’m shocked my car hasn’t been picked up yet, and I call the local number to find out what’s going on.)

Towing Dispatcher: “Yeah?”

Me: “Yes, my car was supposed to be towed from [Hotel] to [Garage], but the first truck they sent was too big. They said they’d send a smaller truck, but it’s been hours and no one’s showed up.”

Towing Dispatcher: *brings up my info in their system* “[Hotel]? That call was canceled. We couldn’t reach the car.”

Me: “Yeah, but I scheduled a second truck to come get it. My car’s in a parking garage.”

Towing Dispatcher: “Fine. I’ll send someone out.” *hangs up*

(Another hour passed. I got a call from the valet saying the towing company sent ANOTHER giant flatbed to get my car. At this point I broke down; I have Aspergers and anxiety issues, and the tow truck troubles, on top of everything else, were too much. My friend saw the state I was in, put on her manager face, and marched off to handle things herself. She returned and told me they finally got my car loaded, thanks to the valet and the tow truck driver, who pushed my little car out of the parking garage themselves. The tow truck driver was complaining loudly about how his company should have sent a smaller truck.)

What The Truck

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