All Charged Up

Bluffton Today column
September 22, 2010

Last week my car battery died. So, what’s a single girl to do? Call her mother, of course! Seriously, I’m 37 years old and still called my Mom. I chalk it up to the genre of the problem. I am just not comfortable dealing with car issues. (Or cable TV, landscaping, or exterminating, just in case anyone is taking notes.)

Call number two was to AAA, who assured me that someone would be at my house in 45 minutes to an hour. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and Carolina Towing was ready to get to work. Five minutes! You have to love Bluffton.

Brian from Carolina Towing concurred with my dead battery diagnosis and then he shocked the hell out of me. He installed a new battery, right there, in my driveway. Hello! Now that is service.

Remember the old days, when you used to have to have your car towed to the garage. Drop your keys in the drop box. (Because don’t batteries always die after the end of the business day?) Get a ride to work the next morning. Call the garage when you got to work, explaining that you are the dope who dropped your car off in the middle of the night. Then, listen to them tell you how long it would take for them to “get to it.” You catch my drift.

As Brian toiled under the hood, my Mom swung by just to make sure all was well. (And, that Brian was not an ax-murderer.) To keep him on his toes, she drilled him with car repair questions and complimented him on the nice “wrap” on his truck. Oh yes, even going so far as to ask where he got it done. Um Mom, are you planning to get your 2005 Chevy Malibu wrapped with your personal logo?

Once the work was done, in less than the time AAA thought it would take for them to even arrive, Mom reminded me of another AAA escapade more than a dozen years ago. This would be the episode where I locked my keys in my car, three times in one week.

Back then, I would go out for a morning run, and stick my keys under the car mat, while I was gone. In hindsight, not my wisest move ever. I realize now that not only was I giving a potential unsavory character access to steal the car, but they could also unlock the front door of the house. Anyway, on one particular morning (and two subsequent, but who’s counting?), I somehow managed to lock the keys in the car, so I called AAA.

Now it is important to note that my car at the time was a Kia Sephia. Basically the first Kia model ever introduced to the world. Hey, I was a recent college graduate and making peanuts, give me a break.

So, I called AAA and explained that I locked my keys in the car. The very helpful (insert sarcasm here) customer service representative began her line of questioning. Name? Membership number? Address? Car make and model?

“It’s a Kia.”

“A what?”

“A Kia. A Kia Sephia.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“Kia. K-I-A. Kia.” (Exasperated sigh.)

“That isn’t a car. There is no Kia in my database.”

“Oh, I assure you, it is a car.” (Volume increases and a special accent is placed on the word “car.”)

“Kia?”

“Yes, A KIA!” (Shouting now!)

Mumbling almost inaudibly, “I’ve never heard of a Kia.”

“How about this … it is THE ONLY CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY! Think you’ll be able to find it?”

“Ok, someone will there shortly.”

Miracle of all miracles, the AAA guy did find the only car in the driveway.

Fast forward one third of my life and you can now see why my delight regarding good service – signed, sealed and delivered in under an hour – has me pretty giddy. (Thank goodness I drive a more recognizable vehicle these days.)

Now, if only we could get the DIRECTV customer service reps to employ that same level of service. Mom, will you call DIRECTV for me?