During the summer, a recall notice arrived in the mail from the manufacturer of my car. Apparently the piston oil rings may not have been properly heat-treated, which could result in engine damage.
"A damaged engine may stall, increasing the risk of a crash," the notification solemnly announced. "In addition, oil may leak onto hot exhaust components, increasing the risk of a fire. Dealers will inspect and, if necessary, replace the engine, free of charge."
A new engine would be nice, even though the car is barely two years old, has less than 8,000 miles on the odometer (we have the shutdown in 2020 of nearly everything due to covid-19 to thank for that), and has never shown any interest in being a temperamental drama queen.
That new engine was unlikely, though, as the car is pretty much perfect; outside of an oil change, it's never needed service. But recalls are best attended to, because when it comes time to sell or trade in this car, its VIN number will reveal the existence of a recall, which could distress possible buyers if not rectified. It's wise to take care of it now rather than later. Procrastination doesn't pay.
The process started out so seamlessly. I made an appointment online, snagging the first timeframe available. Taking care to show up early, I was greeted by a weary service representative who asked if we could reschedule, as he was mightily understaffed that day. Not seeing any other option, I said sure, arranged to return a week later, and drove away, muttering about wasting the morning.
The next week's visit started out OK until the dealership's promise of a ride home would involve a 45-minute wait for the porter to return from fetching a car in west Little Rock. So a call to an already busy member of my household to arrange a pickup was necessary. The alternative was to hang around in the dealership's so-called lounge, a dreary, chilly space with people talking loudly on their phones for all to hear and grim vending machines lining the walls.
While waiting for my husband to collect me, I wandered around the lot to get a look at the few new models there. Within 10 minutes I was approached by two sales associates, who weren't all that easy to dismiss.
I had been spoiled by the dealership of my previous ride, a Mini Cooper, which was as clean as a hospital, plus provided (at no cost) excellent coffee, chocolate chip cookies, a courtesy vehicle (even if my car was going to be there for only a couple of hours), and the timely return of a washed and vacuumed car. It's a tragedy that the Little Rock Mini-Cooper dealership closed.
At least my current car's recall service was finished within a few hours (the work would take about an hour, the service rep told me, but that meant an hour from when the mechanic got to it, not necessarily an hour after the appointment time).
The website of the dealership claimed the ability to come fetch me, but I knew better than to believe that, so the still-busy household member was again pressed into service.
As I suspected, my car wasn't about to receive a new engine. And, to be fair, everyone connected with the service department was courteous and good-natured.
A couple of days later a survey showed up in my email, one of those "How did we do?" inquiries. Having caught me at a bad time, I told them about my displeasure with having my first appointment canceled (why couldn't I have been notified, and saved myself the trip there and back?), the annoyance of not being provided a ride home in a timely manner, and the despair of considering what it would be like to stay in that gloomy waiting room.
Since it was a recall--not an owner-provoked repair--I told the survey I should have been given a courtesy car and treated like the princess that I am.
A few more days went by. An email appeared from the dealership's customer relations manager. Note the many exclamation marks:
"Regarding your recent feedback, I tried reaching out to you! I would love to speak with you and further apologize on behalf of all of us here. I look forward to speaking with you. Thank you for being a loyal customer! Have a great day!"
For the record, I am not a loyal customer. I indicated in the survey that I am "highly unlikely" to utilize the dealership's services in the future. But I do like the car.
The email was followed by a voicemail in which she said she'd received my survey and was sorry I was dissatisfied. She'd like to discuss how to win back my business, and in the process maybe I would be willing to re-score the answers I'd provided on the survey.
Not a chance. Not unless I get coffee, chocolate chip cookies, a carwash, and a gleaming new engine.
Karen Martin is senior editor of Perspective.
kmartin@arkansasonline.com