Sunday, March 11, 2007
There's no such thing as an easy repair...
It never fails: as soon as your start thinking that a repair is going to be easy and plan your day accordingly, something goes wrong.
As I mentioned in earlier blog posts, my car was broken into last week, and today was to be the day to replace the broken window.
Michael and I bought the window at the junkyard yesterday. Although I've bought parts from Budget Auto before, and I've always been impressed with their selection of Z cars, their service this time around leaves a lot to be desired.
First, I called on Wednesday to price the window. The guy that helped me said they had the window, but he would have to pull it. I called back on Friday to have him pull it, and I talked to another guy who said they had one that was already pulled. I should have made him check, but I didn't... And when we showed up on Saturday, it turned out they had to pull the window after all.
When we picked the window up, I thought it looked wrong. "Too flat," was my first thought; "Too big," was my second. They assured me that if it was wrong, I could bring it back.
Michael and I held it up to my car when we got home. It still looked wrong, but Michael really didn't want to go back to the junkyard, and I let myself be convinced that the window would work (even though it didn't look right).
Sure enough, though, my instincts were right. Once we got the door dismantled today, it was very obvious that the window was wrong.
It's pretty clear to me that one of these guys ignored something I said. I suspect the window either goes to a 280ZX 2+2 (a four seater) rather than to a coupe (which is what I have), or they got the year and model wrong and gave me a 300ZX window instead.
Either way, they disregarded something I said. I run into this all the time: men usually assume I can't possibly know what I'm talking about, since I'm a woman (and cars are apparently a man's thing). It's infuriating. Tomorrow I plan to march into the office and request to see the car they took the window out of. Once I see which way they erred (i.e. whether they just got the number of seats wrong, or messed up on the entire model), I am going to give them a piece of my mind.
In the meantime I am going to fume about the arrogance of men who think that their having a penis means they know more about my car than I do.
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