Bad Business

So, here it is, a new year. Where did the last few weeks go?

Oh yeah, that's right. I've spent the last few weeks dealing with a certain "discount" car insurance company, trying to get them to do something about my car. You know which company I'm talking about - it's the one with the relentless advertising campaign and the most annoying jingle in the world. And yes, the crappiness of their commercials is indicative of their customer service, or at least their service towards people that they owe money to.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, I got sideswiped last month by Caddy-drivin', dead-animal-coat-wearin', society-name-droppin' woman. The police were called, an accident report was taken, I called my insurance agent to file a claim. I was assured that Caddy Lady's insurance company would call me within 48 hours.

Well, 48 hours later fell upon a Saturday, so I really wasn't expecting a call over the weekend. (Even though said insurance company touts its 24-hour service... I suppose that's a feature only available to policyholders.) I was on vacation the following week, so I hoped that I could get most, if not all, of the red tape taken care of while I was puttering around the house.

My phone rang at 8:30 am on Monday morning. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it proper business protocol to wait until at least 9:00 am to call someone at home? I muttered a few curses, rolled over, and went back to sleep. That's what I have an answering machine for, right?

I picked up the message later in the morning, and returned the call around 11:45 am. As expected, I got the voicemail of the claims adjuster, and learned quite a few things about her. First, her office hours are 10:00 - 4:00. (So why did she call me at 8:30 in the morning? Was she calling me from home while she watched Good Morning America and ate her Special K?) Second, she apparently is the only claims adjuster east of the Mississippi River, since she emphasized several times in her voicemail message how incredibly busy she is with the 8 billion claims piling up on her desk. I rolled my eyes until they nearly popped out of my head, and left a message emphasizing the fact that I was currently driving a car that was not street legal through no fault of my own, and I would really appreciate a speedy response on their part.

The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster called back the next afternoon to arrange a time for the appraiser to come out. The appraiser showed up the next morning, inspected the dents and scratches in my car, made a few notes, took a few pictures, and left. I did not receive a copy of anything. I didn't even get a phone number or a last name. It was the automotive equal of a one-night stand.

Since I wasn't sure if this was proper protocol, I went back upstairs and called the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster and got her voicemail again. I explained that I had no idea what my next step in this fiasco was, and I would appreciate a call letting me know if I should be doing something, like arranging to get my car fixed so I wouldn't have to try to talk my way out of a ticket for a broken side mirror.

I waited for her to call me back.

And waited.

And waited.

I waited some more.

After a few days, my father suggested that we take the car out to my mechanic so we could get a ballpark figure of how much repair work would be involved. We were sent to the Ford dealership a few doors down, since there was bodywork that my garage didn't feel comfortable in estimating.

The Ford representative came back in after examining my car for a few minutes. "It's totaled." TOTALLED??? But it's just a dented panel and a broken mirror! The Ford guy proceeded to show figures for parts and labor, reaching $5000 after adding up less than half of the parts involved. (Since my car is 10 years old, it's worth less than $2000.)

This was the point where my head exploded. As I am still paying off my computer and my hospital bills, a payment on a new car was completely out of the question. My father, noticing that I was about to burst into tears (my usual response to any crisis in my life), started saying something about salvage titles. Being a person who can barely remember what year I need to get my E-check, I understood nothing that he said.

Eventually, I did calm down, and started to comprehend at least a little of the whole salvage title thing. Apparently, it's a title that means my car is absolutely worthless, but still drivable. I would still get my settlement money, would get to keep my car, and could use the money to repair only what was necessary to make it street legal again. (The dented panel would remain, but after driving a car that was held together with bungee cords for almost ten years, it didn't seem like that big a deal.) I had been forewarned about the bad news. All I had to do was wait for The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster to call me back and start the ball rolling on the title conversion.

Christmas came and went. No call.

New Year's Eve came and went. I drank too much champagne and sulked because Roger Mexico's visit fell through. No call.

At this point, I was more than a little ticked off. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. I had been hit while sitting still in traffic. I had remained as calm and cordial as possible while the police officer took down my information. I had followed all appropriate measures to file claims and attempt to get restitution on my car. I had been more than patient. Hell, I even knew what the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster was going to say when she called. I'd been patient. I'd followed her instructions on her voicemail not to leave multiple messages. (Multiple messages make the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster angry, and your claim will find itself at the bottom of her To Do stack.)

I called again, giving them the benefit of the doubt that nothing much got done during the holidays. (Although I'm sure that Caddy Lady got her claim processed and car fixed within a few days so she could attend all of her holiday parties with the movers and shakers of Cincinnati society.) The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster finally found a spare moment to return my call on the 9th, and began by telling me that my car was a complete loss. No kidding, I thought to myself. Did it take you three weeks to do the math on that one?

I explained to her that I would like to obtain a salvage license, and asked if this would affect the amount of the settlement that she had quoted to me. She assured me that it would not, and said she would send out the appropriate forms to be filled out and notarized. She then asked me if I was still driving the car. Um, yeah, you bonehead. Seeing as how I don't have the option to call in sick for a month and they've not perfected matter transporters, I'm still driving the car. And if I get a ticket for driving without a mirror or left turn signal, I'm sending it to you.

I got the paperwork the other day. Apparently the salvage title will cost me 10% of the settlement. Guess that part slipped her mind. I also apparently have to get the car inspected and pay even more money to get a "regular" title. Oops.

I also learned another thing about The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster. Despite the fact that one would assume that, in processing 8 billion claims, she would've learned how to spell. I apparently drive an Espire, whatever the hell that means. Was she trying to spell Escort? (Right make, wrong model.) Esprit? (As in bad 80s clothes?) Expire? (As in dead car?) I also found a typo in the power of attorney form - in the section that the notary signs, they've inadvertently replaced the word "such" with "suck," which pretty much sums up what I feel about their service.

I really hate Discount Insurance Company, now even more than I did. I hate their commercials. I hate their stupid jingle.

Insert your own joke about the typo in the power of attorney form and the acronym for Discount Insurance Company here.

(And on a completely unrelated but equally stupid note, I just got a letter from the IRS the other day. Way back when everyone was receiving those tax refunds, mine got lost in the shuffle. They finally caught up with me last year, and sent me the money they owed me plus interest. They're now taxing me on the interest that accrued because of their mistake. I guess that extra tax dollar is going to save the economy, right?)