I hadn’t seen my nemesis, Ms.
Every Detail (name changed of course, but not to protect the innocent), in a
couple years. I’ve blogged about her a couple of times. She’s the older lady,
who comes in with a complaint, receives an absolute bible on what’s wrong and
how much it will cost. She okay’s the job, and when it’s finished, she comes
right in the office, looks at the invoice she’s already signed an estimate on,
and then asks, ‘so, what did we do to my car today?’. I’m then forced into an
interrogation I have already explained in excruciating.
Ms. Detail comes in this
morning with a 2006 Dodge Stratus, she’s replaced her prior vehicle with. She
has a folder in her hand as she exits her Dodge which gives me a distinct
feeling of uneasiness. I greet her politely, and she hands me the folder.
“I want you to do something
about this.”
I look in the folder as if I’m
opening up a contract with the devil. It contains numerous invoices, stemming
from a complaint on the oldest one of a PO720 speed sensor code, and the
speedometer jumping at idle as if the car is moving. Three different
organizations had been into it, including a Dodge dealer in Sacramento. They
had replaced all the speed sensors, the transmission harness, and finally, the computer.
I looked up at that point to see Every watching me with a frown and her arms
folded over her chest as if I had done all this.
“Well?”
I shrugged, and handed back the
folder. Frankly, I didn’t want anything to do with it. She interrogates me for
a half hour when I’ve fixed her cars and done exactly what I explained I would
do. The Lord only knows what hell I’d have to go through with this. The problem
was, I thought I knew what might be wrong, because of my obsession with
haunting the Internet and various professional organizations’ archives.
“I see you’ve had a variety of
things done associated with the speed sensor code you had. Did they get rid of
the check engine light?”
“No! I’m still getting it, and
the damn speedometer still jumps!”
“You do understand that I can’t
intercede with them for you, right?”
“Why not?”
I opted for the truth. “Because
I won’t. What you’ve had done has nothing to do with me. I will, as in past
repairs, give you a guarantee that what I do will fix your vehicle though.”
Ms. Detail looked as if her
head would explode. In a way, I understood her frustration. I also knew these
shops would rather have opened a vein than ever talk to Ms. Every Detail again
after not fixing her vehicle with the money they’d charged. She’s annoying
enough when you do everything right. I could only imagine what kind of nightmare
she was when things didn’t go right. Even if she agreed to my diagnostic check and
repair, I was going to make sure the usual interrogation did not happen.
“That’s what those other crooks
told me! Now you-”
“Hold on!” I cut her off before
she said something that would guarantee she never got her car fixed in my shop.
“What goes on between you and me has nothing to do with your prior work. If you
continue talking to me as if I was to blame for your vehicle’s ongoing problem,
I’m going to ask you to leave.”
I quoted her the price for a
basic diagnostic check which would pay for my time in confirming what was wrong.
“Another item we’ll discuss right now is that I have no intention of proceeding
with you as in the past, where you ignore everything I’ve explained, and the detailed
estimate you agree to, and then put me through a separate half hour grilling.
Once I find out what’s wrong, I’ll explain it to you on the phone once. If you
agree to the repairs, I’ll fix the vehicle, call you, collect my fee, and you
take the car and confirm that it’s fixed.”
It’s a lucky thing Ms. Detail
didn’t have death rays for eyes, because I would have been nothing but a small
pile of carbon on the shop floor. She then agreed to the terms through clenched
teeth. I took her in the office, wrote up the invoice for the estimate, and a
brief detailing of our terms, including the fact my repairs would not correct
anything other than the jumping speedo and PO720 code. She signed and left.
I admit I was a little excited
to see if the Dodge had a problem with what I suspected. The research I’d seen
listed a code and speedo jump being caused by the alternator, which
unfortunately the other shops didn’t suspect. It might seem crazy, but I have
had alternators with leaking diodes cause a myriad of problems, because the
excess AC signal caused by them disrupts all kinds of things on the newer
vehicles. I first confirmed all the evidence and repairs, and then I scoped the
alternator pattern. Sure enough, it had a shorted diode. It put out enough to
keep the battery charged, but I suspect if Every Detail had driven the vehicle
at night with the air conditioner on, she would have had a few more symptoms. I
disconnected the alternator carefully and took it for a spin. Sure enough, no
speedometer jump. I called Ms. Detail up, explained the problem, gave her the
estimate, and then waited for blast off.
“What!!? The alternator!? What
the hell-”
“That’s what’s wrong. I told
you I confirmed it,” I interrupted the countdown. “Would you like the Dodge
fixed or not?”
“I want you to call those
people and tell them-”
“No!” I interrupted again. “I’m
not telling them anything. If you’d like, I’ll write up what’s wrong on your
invoice. Then you pay my diagnostic fee, and take the car to whoever you want.
I will not intercede, nor will I guarantee someone else’s work.”
Surprisingly enough, she had me
replace the alternator, probably because she didn’t believe for a moment it
would fix anything. I replaced the alternator, confirmed everything was reading
right again, and then took it on a twenty mile test drive with air conditioner,
lights, and radio – no codes, no speedometer jump. She came in about an hour
ago, sat down, took the invoice from me, and you guessed it:
“What did you do to the car?”
I was ready. “Exactly what’s on
the invoice.”
“Explain to me-”
“Nope.” I cut her off. “You
already signed the terms of this repair, and I did explain it to you on the
phone. I’m not going to do it again. Pay for the repair, and test it out for
yourself.”
“I want the old alternator.”
“Sure. There’s an $80 core
charge.”
“What!? I want my old part!”
“You can have it for the same
$80 fee they’ll make me pay if I don’t give them the core. Once you confirm
whatever it is you wish to confirm, you can bring the core back and I’ll give
you the $80 back.”
After a fist clenching stare
down, she paid the bill, and left… without the alternator core.
Wow, that was fun. I may get to
do another blog when she rushes back in claiming ever since I replaced the
alternator, her brakes are making noise (I actually checked everything possible
on that test drive to avoid just that)… but you never know. In any case, I’ll
report if there is a return of Ms. Every Detail. :)
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