Sometimes The Folks Behind The Counters Actually Do The Right Thing.
By Jeff Smith
WHOEVER FIRST SAID no news is good news, he probably was
some poor schmuck of a newspaper editor who was trying to get
the Legion of Decency off his ass.
By this he meant that Ozzie and Harriet should be glad that their
family isn't showing up in the paper every day, on account of
what tends to show up in the paper everyday is homicide and drunk-driving
and city council and school board meetings and famine and flood
in faraway places with strange-sounding names, like Afghanistan.
In fact the term Afghanistanism is applied to journalism that
concentrates on things happening far away and generally outside
the actual concern of the reader. It's a way in which gutless
newspapers affect to sound serious and concerned and gutsy enough
to take on the tough issues--without risking getting any local
advertisers or big rock-and-rollers pissed-off.
Getting back to the no news/good news thing, what real newsdogs
mean by this is that good news really is no news, or at least
not very interesting news. And you good people out there should
be grateful for this, because it underscores the essential fact
that normal life is relatively benign and that horrible things
are notable and therefore newsworthy because they contrast to
the daily routine.
Ozzie and Harriet are bad examples because they actually were
TV stars and in the news on a daily basis. It is the metaphoric
Ozzie and Harriet who make my point here: a nice, wholesome, unremarkable
and un-newsworthy couple with a couple of nice, wholesome, etc.
sons, who don't hit the front page until Ricky dies in a plane
crash with a load of cocaine in his bloodstream.
Having unburdened myself of all these verities, I would now like
to let you in on a little good news, put a few names in the paper
in a context that might ordinarily chill somebody's shit, so to
speak.
Case One begins with a transmission gone wrong. Happened to me
a year and a half ago. Just as I pulled into a lumber yard to
buy enough stuff to build a flute factory. I headed straight for
Star Automotive on the northwest side, where years earlier I had
taken my old Bronco, and got a rebuilt tranny installed overnight
for $274. Assuming the same sort of quick and cheap service, I
was surprised and chagrined when they got my truck taken apart
and informed me that it would take longer and more money than
I ever dreamed.
A lot more.
It was then that I learned that Star Automotive had changed hands
and that I wasn't dealing with the usual suspects. Make a long
story short, it took close to two weeks and over two grand to
get my truck back.
Transmissions ain't like they used to was, I was told, by lots
of experts. Still, I had this uncomfortable feeling in the seat
of my shorts. Less than a year later, while still under warranty,
the tranny began acting up. I told Star, they checked it out,
said it was fine, then the same happened again, same result. Well,
things sometimes go that way.
Bottom line, the tranny goes beyond warranty and then really
begins to take a dump. I go back to Star and say, hey, this is
what started while it still was under warranty. They fiddle with
it and say it's okay. It's not okay and I take it back. They have
another guy check it out and he says it's bogus. They try to fix
it again and I get it back a week later, supposedly good as new.
It's not.
I am thinking, just now, what most civilians think when dealing
with mechanics, plumbers, lawyers and other practitioners of black
arts: They're trying to screw me.
You know what? They weren't. After all this roundy-round, Star
Automotive put in another transmission, got the outside help they
needed to double-check its proper function, and they didn't charge
me a penny.
God knows they were as sick of hearing my voice on the phone
as I was of having to hitchhike back and forth from Tucson. But
they did the right thing and I am proud of them.
Truth to tell, I was hoping all through this ordeal that they
were readers of The Weekly, and would think I was going
to rip them a new one in print. It's not nice to use one's position
as a journalistic defender of the weak and the helpless to get
people to fix your transmission for free--even if they really
should because you paid a shitload of money and it's not your
fault the new one was a lemon. Hell, if Erasmo had something like
this happen to him, I'd have written about it. But you aren't
supposed to help yourself.
I was tempted, but I remained an oak. I'm glad now that I can
write about this whole ordeal and tie it up with a happy ending.
David and Don at Star Automotive are a couple of stand-up guys.
As are Jimmie and Jason at Circuit City. They replaced my laptop
computer with a new one, even though, technically, they didn't
have to.
They did it because a few months back the keyboard on my old
computer went south, and since I was past the year's warranty
with Circuit City, but had bought the extended warranty, I had
to get with G.E. Service for the repairs. That involved long-distance
calls to one of those sonofabitch automated switchboards that
has you punching buttons on your phone through a half-hour of
menu choices, until you finally get to speak to a human...
...who tells you that he can't help you right now, but will talk
to his supervisor and get back to you within 10 working days.
At 13 working days I called back, waltzed through the telephone
menus again, got more delays and excuses. Finally, after many
repeats of this I got mad and had Circuit City get on G.E.'s ass,
and they told me to take my computer to a shop in town and they'd
authorize the repairs.
This, by the way, was after one of G.E.'s phone techs tried to
get me to fix the thing myself.
Anyway, after being without a computer for a month, and having
to drive 120 miles every time I needed to write something to pay
the rent, Circuit City said they'd replace my unit if nobody else
could fix it. I called to tell the shop the good news, but when
I went to retrieve the computer, they said they finally had it
fixed. I could have had a new one, and maybe not had to wait a
month and drive 2,000 aggregate miles.
Oh well.
Then a couple weeks ago the computer screen began growing this
little cancerous-looking lesion, so I called Jimmie the manager
at Circuit City and told him about it, and he remembered what
a nosebleed I went through the last time, and he said, unsolicited:
"Hey, bring it in tomorrow and I'll take care of it."
Which he and Jason did: with a new computer.
And you know why they did it? Because it makes for good customer
relations. I never hinted that I would hold my breathe and turn
purple if they didn't bail me out of that old lemon, and I never
let on like I was going to give them a big ol' wet kiss in print
if they were extra special nice to me. They just took pity on
a poor, crippled, divorced, orphaned (and sort of homely) newspaper
writer--and put him out of his misery.
Compassion on this order deserves recognition.
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