Chevy Love

I love Chevrolet because Chevrolet loves me.

It’s true. I get handwritten cards, postcards, and notes from them every once in a while. They’ve even emailed me, asking about their customer service and what they can do to better it. I answered that everything was fabulous with the exception of the “stark” waiting room I had to sit in while my car was being lubed up – for free.

When I first purchased my then-shining, new black car –it’s now a light shade of dusty gray- they called me after two weeks, asking me about my experience in that specific dealership.

Customer Service: “And the agent you were dealing with was Matt Vincent, correct?”
Me: “Yeah, it was.”
Customer Service: “Do you have any comments, both good and bad, about your experience with this agent?”
Me: “Oh no he was great. But there’s only one thing…it’s kinda small but…”
Customer Service: “Yes. Please go on.”
Me: “Well my mom always told me spit my gum out and not chew while I talk…”
Customer Service: “Was Matt Vincent chewing gum when he was dealing with you?”
Me: (Hesitating) “Yes. But it’s just a little courtesy thing I guess…”
Customer Service: “Yes, I understand. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Me: “Okay.”
Customer Service: “Thank you so much for your time.”
Me: “Sure.”

I felt a little bit bad after that phone call. I thought to myself, “What if he gets fired because of the piece of gum I reported against him?” Okay, the guy was grinding the hell out of it when he was talking to me, mouth wide open, saliva bunched up near the corners of his mouth. Yet I couldn’t help but think of his bright face as he eagerly filled me in on his upcoming honeymoon in Hawaii. I felt like a monster in the making.
After a month, I received a lovely card from the dealership. On the bottom of the paper, I noticed a little squiggle that read:

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at 10:35 PM