I am reflecting on Pi Day. I spent half a day, well, no that is not accurate – 30 minutes commute, 30 minutes discussion and forty-five minutes waiting in the car to get a battery replaced that I knew was defective, but had to prove to the auto store where we just bought the battery not that long ago that our assessment was correct. A fact which I had no time to really register, apparently, since I did not remember this and this particular battery (not a hybrid) is only available at one store in our town. So, while I sat in the car, I wrote this story and tried to see things from their point of view. The first person to help me was anxious to sell me a battery and get me on my way, though there were hardly any customers in the store. I initially thought I would be helped by two of the more ‘competent’ gray shirts as my assigned clerk called them. Gray shirts refers to their higher ranking and decision making powers. Later, I was to learn, only one person, store manager actually makes the decision, in my case. So while I explained at least twice that I needed a dependable battery and this battery would not hold a charge, when they checked and discovered that it was under warranty, they said that they would test the battery. My assigned clerk said that the battery was around 30 percent charged, tested good and the alternator was working. So what does this mean? He said they would have to charge the battery which would take thirty minutes. I told him we had already charged the battery at home for over two hours and what was the point of that? I need a new battery. I was not mad, I was truly confused. My brain works in mysterious ways at my age. I draw conclusions and I stick to them. Other points of view do not seem to register as much as they used to. Yes, I used to be much more willing to please others. Now, I am much happier just counting on my own self. Unfortunately, I have to stop and listen carefully to recognize that getting what I want means going through the procedures necessary for other people. So, he says that I need to talk to the ‘gray shirts’. They make the tough decisions. I talk to the ‘gray shirt’ that they had to get out of the office in the back. Was he hiding? Probably. He was so obviously reluctant, but I ignore and he explains, yes, the battery is under warranty, but the problem could be in wires shorting in the car, and/or any other of a number of problems. So, if that is the case, I prompt. I would have to take it to the shop, he tells me. Ah, and to check the battery, they have to charge it here. I just charged it up at home, I say, for several hours. Ah, but you only have an 8 amp charger at home, ours is about 80 amp so it shouldn’t take long. Okay. Then my original helper, the red shirt guy assigned to help, says he needs to go out and get the battery. I need to pop the hood again. I follow, even though I know the hood is still open and he says, “It’s already opened.” “Do you need me for anything else?” I asked. “No,” he answered. I go inside the store and start wandering around looking at the kinds of things that they have for sale. An alarm goes off as a skinny, young guy, goes through the out door with a wiper he purchased. The biggest guy in the place tells him to come back through. The skinny guy complies with his hands up. A woman standing beside me goes “Uh oh.” Another alarm and the bigger guy asks what he has in his pockets. He starts talking about only a lighter, etc, when the manager tells the guy to empty his pockets on the counter or he will call the police. The skinny guy hangs his head and empties his pockets, including a spark plug, which the big guy picks up and hands the skinny guy back his wiper blade and receipt. The skinny guy leaves the store. I wonder how often this happens, but decide that it must be fairly routine. The woman beside me goes back to her business. She goes straight to the manager and talks to him about her problem. I walk some more around the store, thinking what a waste of space. There is nothing here I would buy for my car. Glittery pink steering wheel cover, really? After a while my clerk comes to show me where they have put the battery and how to check on the status of the charging. “It says right here that it will take 45 minutes,” the red shirt guys says. Wow, it is a good thing that I waited to come until after the doctor’s appointment. I would have been stressed out. So I tell him that I am going to wait in the car, that it is a nice day outside and it is really boring in here. I have the habit of being honest. I go to the car and sit in it and take some notes so I can remember the details. Then I write on another project I am working on. I have no idea how long I was there, but I saw several people go in and out and they were mostly tired, covered in grease, oil and dirt, obviously working on cars and just as tired and frustrated when they come out. Not many happy customer faces here. Mmmh. My red shirt assistant comes bopping out of the store with a big smile on his face. “Your battery is bad,” he says. “We are replacing it with a brand new battery. All you have to do is come and sign for the exchange.” I say okay and go in and the big guy has my account all ready, just waiting for my signature. I sign, while my clerk gets engaged in a conversation with one of the customers. The red shirt clerk carries the new battery up with one hand, while he talks to his friend, who has finished his business and is getting updates on the status of police visit to the red shirt clerk’s apartment visit the other night. I get back in the car, while they continue the conversation as red shirt puts the battery in the vehicle, granted at a much slower pace that he was able to remove it. Just as I start to wonder how much longer this is going to take, the manager comes outside and walks up behind the red shirt clerk and asks him how it is going and gives the visitor a long look. My helper says that it is almost back in and starts wrenching the nuts onto the clamp. His visitor says, “See ya later,” and walks off and back to his car. The manager goes inside and red shirt closes the hood and says to start her up. I do so and mouth the words, “Thank you,” and off I go. I am thinking that 1> I would not want to work at this place, 2>It is not much fun to work there, 3> The people that work there reflect the frustrations of their customers, 4> That most of the people that go in there do not expect to have a good experience and are ready for an argument, 5> None of the people offered a friendly appreciation or good bye or see ya next time or thanks for shopping. Have I been spoiled by my McD, Walmart and health professionals – where all I get all day long is happy, helpful and encouraging smiles? If they changed the merchandise on display, put in some electronic devices, made some interactive play stations for auto enhancement and quit the pink, glitter or camo steering wheel covers, I might actually enjoy looking around. I think about the Walmart experience in the auto shop. Don’t they have the same things? Yes, and if they don’t carry my older car battery, that means I get downgraded to this store. My, my. If I can’t afford to have my car serviced and have to fix it on my own, I guess I would have to put up with people who were less concerned about my repeat business. It is hard to buy a car battery in my town, at least, it takes a lot longer than it used to. I lived in the Big D (Dallas,Tx) one horribly hot summer, where my car battery went out two years early and I drove through outside carport where Sears people took my information on a clip board and changed the battery out and had me sign for it in about ten minutes. I did not like the waves of city traffic, the airport noise and I remember a car that exploded and caught on fire on the side of the highway that same summer. In fact, when I remember my time there, it centers around that miserable summer. Whenever I think about moving back to there, I remember that car especially, but I miss the efficiency, the happy to serve, and the happy to be working attitudes of most of the people there. Am I wrong to wish that I could have that kind of experience in my little town? Nahhh, just old enough to remember when things seemed better. It’s Pi Day, the possibilities are endless but not repeating. Yeah, that’s the idea.
