From Deutsche Marks to Donuts
Jun. 3rd, 2014 08:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogIggy was due today for his annual service appointment- for his battery, and before the end of the month for his state safety inspection. (His emissions inspection is waived because, duh, HE DOESN'T PRODUCE ANY.) We knew of this because his computer console started reminding Eleanor several weeks ago CARE SERVICE DUE IN 29 DAYS 28 DAYS etc. etc., so she made an appointment for a late-day work arrival this morning, and coordinated with me to get him there and me to my office, about a mile away. She then headed off in my car for more flowery things for her store.
When I got in to my office, my physical inbox had two things in it: one expected and one decidedly un. The former was a disclosure form connected to a real estate contract, one which a client worked out over two weeks ago, and which had been sitting at the reception desk for her to sign for almost as long. Late last week, she signed the contract itself, but she missed filling out the final four pages that constitute the state (and buyer mortgage company) mandated disclosure statement of property condition. We misconnected many times in the past week over getting this latter part done, but before Iggy was delivered, she'd finally been to my office and completed and signed it....
along with dropping off a majorly yummy box of donuts, muffins and scones from Panera. Most of them got placed in the lunchroom, as well they ought, but our receptionist wrapped three of them in foil and left them in my mailbox. Two of them promptly rejoined their littermates once I saw there was an even bigger stash, and I thanked the client profusely for the effort by text:
Thank you:) That was incredibly sweet. Everybody says thank you (except the ones running away in terror from the calories;)
She just texted back her you're welcome (with an LOL). They'd all been well and truly pillaged by the time I got the call that Iggy was ready.
----
That mile or so between my office and the dealership went quickly, if humidly, but at least it wasn't pouring as it had been for the previous several hours. When I arrived, I got the true sense of what it means to be a guest of the Daimler Benz Gesellschaft. I entered through the Smart dealership, which for sales purposes is a cute little sidecar to the way-beyond-our-budget Mercedeses to the right, but our salesperson walked me back to the service area that is clearly the product of complete Unification between the two Germanys.
It is clean. It is bright. And it is efficient- to a fault. I wasn't back there more than 20 seconds before blueshirted counselors started approaching me to be sure I was being taken care of. Alas, I'd been called slightly too soon: they'd found a warranty-covered repair that had needed fixing, and Iggy wasn't charged and ready for me. Well, he was, but he hadn't been washed or vacuumed. That is the Mercedes way. And so I was directed to the lounge to await his perfect cleansing. That gave me just enough time to post this status update:
When I got in to my office, my physical inbox had two things in it: one expected and one decidedly un. The former was a disclosure form connected to a real estate contract, one which a client worked out over two weeks ago, and which had been sitting at the reception desk for her to sign for almost as long. Late last week, she signed the contract itself, but she missed filling out the final four pages that constitute the state (and buyer mortgage company) mandated disclosure statement of property condition. We misconnected many times in the past week over getting this latter part done, but before Iggy was delivered, she'd finally been to my office and completed and signed it....
along with dropping off a majorly yummy box of donuts, muffins and scones from Panera. Most of them got placed in the lunchroom, as well they ought, but our receptionist wrapped three of them in foil and left them in my mailbox. Two of them promptly rejoined their littermates once I saw there was an even bigger stash, and I thanked the client profusely for the effort by text:
Thank you:) That was incredibly sweet. Everybody says thank you (except the ones running away in terror from the calories;)
She just texted back her you're welcome (with an LOL). They'd all been well and truly pillaged by the time I got the call that Iggy was ready.
----
That mile or so between my office and the dealership went quickly, if humidly, but at least it wasn't pouring as it had been for the previous several hours. When I arrived, I got the true sense of what it means to be a guest of the Daimler Benz Gesellschaft. I entered through the Smart dealership, which for sales purposes is a cute little sidecar to the way-beyond-our-budget Mercedeses to the right, but our salesperson walked me back to the service area that is clearly the product of complete Unification between the two Germanys.
It is clean. It is bright. And it is efficient- to a fault. I wasn't back there more than 20 seconds before blueshirted counselors started approaching me to be sure I was being taken care of. Alas, I'd been called slightly too soon: they'd found a warranty-covered repair that had needed fixing, and Iggy wasn't charged and ready for me. Well, he was, but he hadn't been washed or vacuumed. That is the Mercedes way. And so I was directed to the lounge to await his perfect cleansing. That gave me just enough time to post this status update:
Iggy's getting his annual service. The dealerships are combined on the service end, so our dorky little Smart car is in with Das Benzenheimers. I feel like I've discovered the opposite of slumming. — at Mercedes-Benz of Buffalo.
The post was barely dry before I was told to find him outside, up against the wall. Which I did; apparently, like salmon, Smart Cars are destined to return once a year to be among their people:
But when I turned him on, there was a problem. His monitor continued to display the CARE SERVICE IN TWO DAYS nag. I went back in, to ask if this would clear itself after a certain amount of driving, but no. The technician had forgotten to clear the code. I could hear the anger in the service counselor's voice as he summoned the tech to fix the problem:
KLAUS! YOU HAFF FORGOTTEN TO RETURN ZE SMART CAR TO ZE PRISTINE CONDITION! UND YOU VILL PAY!
All afternoon, I've had nightmares about him trapped behind one of the so-clean-you-could-eat-off-them white doors with red electrical warning symbols on them, being tortured for his unforgivable indiscretion. Tomorrow, most likely, he'll be sent to the Russian front.
But Iggy, bless him, has returned safely home, his battery all better, and a fresh inspection sticker on his windscreen. Maybe tomorrow I'll let him have one of the leftover scones.
The post was barely dry before I was told to find him outside, up against the wall. Which I did; apparently, like salmon, Smart Cars are destined to return once a year to be among their people:
But when I turned him on, there was a problem. His monitor continued to display the CARE SERVICE IN TWO DAYS nag. I went back in, to ask if this would clear itself after a certain amount of driving, but no. The technician had forgotten to clear the code. I could hear the anger in the service counselor's voice as he summoned the tech to fix the problem:
KLAUS! YOU HAFF FORGOTTEN TO RETURN ZE SMART CAR TO ZE PRISTINE CONDITION! UND YOU VILL PAY!
All afternoon, I've had nightmares about him trapped behind one of the so-clean-you-could-eat-off-them white doors with red electrical warning symbols on them, being tortured for his unforgivable indiscretion. Tomorrow, most likely, he'll be sent to the Russian front.
But Iggy, bless him, has returned safely home, his battery all better, and a fresh inspection sticker on his windscreen. Maybe tomorrow I'll let him have one of the leftover scones.
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no subject
Date: 2014-06-04 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-04 09:44 am (UTC)