As some of you know, I think insurance companies suck. In fact, if you work for an insurance company you should probably not continue reading, unless your hate your job or like abuse. And, trust me, I don't care if you're the best insurance worker in the work... it's not the workers (well, in this case it kind of is)... it's the industry as a whole.
So, on July 29th, at 8 am in the morning, a Friday, I was woken (awoken... woken up) by the sound of something and the continued beeping of a car horn. The kind of horn that sounds when a car is broken into. My horn, I realized, rolling out of bed.
I park my car on the street. I live in a residential 'hood (only spelled that way so I don't have to look up neighbor to see if it's spelled right) with a main street that has wide sidewalks, nice parking lanes, and drivers that drive too fast (ie 45 to 50 in a 30 mph zone filled with children and my wheelchair using roommate trying to cross to the bus stop.)
Tossing on some shorts and a shirt (that's right ladies, I sleep bare-ass nekkid since I was 9) I stumbled out into the street to see what was going on. After checking things out, I went back in, grabbed my camera, and recorded the following.
The blue car in the middle is my 2001, just paid off, less than 60,000 miles, Saturn SC 2. It has one of those cool 3rd doors that open backwards... a suicide door as they were called in the old days. The car to the right is my neighbor across the way (I park across the street from my house, heading the direction I drive most often.)
The thing on its side is a small delivery truck, driven by an unharmed, dumb-ass delivery driver, with a purse full of pills with caps on them.
Bimbo, while claiming to serve to avoid a squirrel and also claiming she wasn't speeding, somehow ripped her truck along my neighbor's car and into the back-end of mine, then flipped up on her side.
That's right... she somehow ripped along one car thusly:
and without glancing off, hit the back end of my car, shoving it down the sidewalk thusly:
(the red arrow indicates pavement scrapped harder than that guy's teeth Ed Norton kicked in the back of the head in American History X), bashing the fuck out of my car thusly:
(wheels aren't suppose to point inward when a car is parked, just for you non-drivers out there.)
In case you didn't grasp the non-speeding forces involved, her truck normally drives on four wheels and my car was parked in front of my neighbors... thus, her two wheels being in the air and all this white space between our cars:
... that's what happens when you hit something slowly.
All right. So, today is September something or other and to date, Katherine, the woman who works for ACE Insurance, who insured the driver at fault, has called me on her own exactly zero times.
My insurance agency Geico, was very helpful on the phone, then when I hung up figured out they weren't at fault, my insurance wouldn't have covered it anyway, and not only washed their hands of the entire thing, but failed to call me and let me know they weren't going to do anything for me. Because they are an insurance agency , and, thus, are assholes.
So, as I sat around Friday waiting for something to happen, nothing does. By the time my car is hauled off and I figure out Geico has screwed me, I call ACE, on a complete hunch, and discover they close on 5 est on Fridays and are closed on the weekends.
I spent the weekend without a car.
Since then, as mentioned above, Katherine has called me zero times. Now everytime I have called Katherine (after figuring out where to call and who to call), she has called me back. But, I am 100% convinced that Katherine, if left to her own devices, would have called me exactly zero times period in the last month if I had not called her first.
The mechanic has been very nice about letting me know when the various repairs have taken place and, more importantly, when the insurance adjuster has come to look at my car and make reports.
For example, last time he was faxed something (the 16 of September) the repair place tried calling again on the 18th, then again on the 25th, and still no visit.
Katherine, after I called her, called me back, and in her best customer service voice, not only defended her actions for the month I haven't had a car, but defended the adjuster, made excuses for both, and gave a mild backhand to the repair shop ("trying to cover themselves"... yes, Katherine, by doing their fucking job).
Note to any customer service people out there (and I'm not speaking out my ass, I've done a lot of it): a mad customer doesn't give two fucks about the reasons behind the fuck-up or your job performance therein. All they want to know is how is this getting fixed, and when is this getting fixed. Period.
Katherine has done a remarkably shitty job and I can say that without knowing about her job or her work load and not giving a fuck about them.
And I'm not hard to please. Seriously.
All Katherine had to do was call me once in a while (without being called first) and let me know what was going on. All Katherine had to do is get my car repaired as fast as the repair shop is able to or even fairly close to that.
Because, Katherine, I know it doesn't take over 1 month to repair a car. Especially when half that time is waiting for some asshat you hired, to go down and "make the call". It doesn't matter what your caseload is.
I'd even understand more if the "accident" was my fault. But, I was sleeping, for fuck sake. I went to bed with a car and I woke up to a wrecked car that's taking 5 fucking weeks (and counting) to get repaired.
That's not good customer service. That's not good service of any kind.
Katherine's final mistake for those of you taking notes: she tried to make me feel lucky or grateful for getting a rental car. You know what... I don't feel lucky for having a rental car. That's part of your fucking job, to get me a rental car. It's expected, you asshole. I feel lucky when something unexpected and pleasant happens; like blow-jobs, or people that put my coin change in my hand first and lay the bills over on top so I can put my money away without spilling it.
I'm grateful, alright. That you were able to do that one part of your job.
So, on July 29th, at 8 am in the morning, a Friday, I was woken (awoken... woken up) by the sound of something and the continued beeping of a car horn. The kind of horn that sounds when a car is broken into. My horn, I realized, rolling out of bed.
I park my car on the street. I live in a residential 'hood (only spelled that way so I don't have to look up neighbor to see if it's spelled right) with a main street that has wide sidewalks, nice parking lanes, and drivers that drive too fast (ie 45 to 50 in a 30 mph zone filled with children and my wheelchair using roommate trying to cross to the bus stop.)
Tossing on some shorts and a shirt (that's right ladies, I sleep bare-ass nekkid since I was 9) I stumbled out into the street to see what was going on. After checking things out, I went back in, grabbed my camera, and recorded the following.
The blue car in the middle is my 2001, just paid off, less than 60,000 miles, Saturn SC 2. It has one of those cool 3rd doors that open backwards... a suicide door as they were called in the old days. The car to the right is my neighbor across the way (I park across the street from my house, heading the direction I drive most often.)
The thing on its side is a small delivery truck, driven by an unharmed, dumb-ass delivery driver, with a purse full of pills with caps on them.
Bimbo, while claiming to serve to avoid a squirrel and also claiming she wasn't speeding, somehow ripped her truck along my neighbor's car and into the back-end of mine, then flipped up on her side.
That's right... she somehow ripped along one car thusly:
and without glancing off, hit the back end of my car, shoving it down the sidewalk thusly:
(the red arrow indicates pavement scrapped harder than that guy's teeth Ed Norton kicked in the back of the head in American History X), bashing the fuck out of my car thusly:
(wheels aren't suppose to point inward when a car is parked, just for you non-drivers out there.)
In case you didn't grasp the non-speeding forces involved, her truck normally drives on four wheels and my car was parked in front of my neighbors... thus, her two wheels being in the air and all this white space between our cars:
... that's what happens when you hit something slowly.
All right. So, today is September something or other and to date, Katherine, the woman who works for ACE Insurance, who insured the driver at fault, has called me on her own exactly zero times.
My insurance agency Geico, was very helpful on the phone, then when I hung up figured out they weren't at fault, my insurance wouldn't have covered it anyway, and not only washed their hands of the entire thing, but failed to call me and let me know they weren't going to do anything for me. Because they are an insurance agency , and, thus, are assholes.
So, as I sat around Friday waiting for something to happen, nothing does. By the time my car is hauled off and I figure out Geico has screwed me, I call ACE, on a complete hunch, and discover they close on 5 est on Fridays and are closed on the weekends.
I spent the weekend without a car.
Since then, as mentioned above, Katherine has called me zero times. Now everytime I have called Katherine (after figuring out where to call and who to call), she has called me back. But, I am 100% convinced that Katherine, if left to her own devices, would have called me exactly zero times period in the last month if I had not called her first.
The mechanic has been very nice about letting me know when the various repairs have taken place and, more importantly, when the insurance adjuster has come to look at my car and make reports.
For example, last time he was faxed something (the 16 of September) the repair place tried calling again on the 18th, then again on the 25th, and still no visit.
Katherine, after I called her, called me back, and in her best customer service voice, not only defended her actions for the month I haven't had a car, but defended the adjuster, made excuses for both, and gave a mild backhand to the repair shop ("trying to cover themselves"... yes, Katherine, by doing their fucking job).
Note to any customer service people out there (and I'm not speaking out my ass, I've done a lot of it): a mad customer doesn't give two fucks about the reasons behind the fuck-up or your job performance therein. All they want to know is how is this getting fixed, and when is this getting fixed. Period.
Katherine has done a remarkably shitty job and I can say that without knowing about her job or her work load and not giving a fuck about them.
And I'm not hard to please. Seriously.
All Katherine had to do was call me once in a while (without being called first) and let me know what was going on. All Katherine had to do is get my car repaired as fast as the repair shop is able to or even fairly close to that.
Because, Katherine, I know it doesn't take over 1 month to repair a car. Especially when half that time is waiting for some asshat you hired, to go down and "make the call". It doesn't matter what your caseload is.
I'd even understand more if the "accident" was my fault. But, I was sleeping, for fuck sake. I went to bed with a car and I woke up to a wrecked car that's taking 5 fucking weeks (and counting) to get repaired.
That's not good customer service. That's not good service of any kind.
Katherine's final mistake for those of you taking notes: she tried to make me feel lucky or grateful for getting a rental car. You know what... I don't feel lucky for having a rental car. That's part of your fucking job, to get me a rental car. It's expected, you asshole. I feel lucky when something unexpected and pleasant happens; like blow-jobs, or people that put my coin change in my hand first and lay the bills over on top so I can put my money away without spilling it.
I'm grateful, alright. That you were able to do that one part of your job.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
googused:
That coin change thing pisses me off. I always jerk my hand away so they drop the change.
unravled:
But why me exactly? It's so strange.