You might be asking yourself why did I think of Dotties last night? That's a fine question. The answer would be that I took the Subaru down to the shop that's supposed to do the work last night. I got there about 3:45 and started gathering my belongings out of it. The place seemed nice. Good looking building. Huge parking lot in the back full of cars. Massive fence topped with razor wire to keep out undesirables. A 4 Runner was parked nearby and a gal came to pick it up while I was putting stuff in Heather's vehicle while she waited. This customer was not happy with the repair that had been done. I couldn't hear the details and I honestly just figured that it was either something small or she was just being unreasonable. I'm sure these people are professionals. (Keep in mind that I do not like relinquishing my vehicle to ANYONE so this is very nerve wracking for me.)
I walked in to sign the necessary paper work. The last paper was a big checklist to go through together with whoever was checking the vehicle in. ABS light on? Horn functional? There was about 40 things. After asking, I'm told that we're not going to check in the vehicle today but they'll do that on Monday. I'm thinking...what happens if I come back after the repair is done and the seat is torn? She tells me I can come down Monday to do the check in process if I'd like. Now...nobody has been waiting more for Friday than this kid right here but it's 4! Why not do it now? Then I think...relax man...maybe I'm being a bit like the 4 Runner gal? So I initial the page. Then I say that most of the damage is pretty visible based upon the description from the insurance company but I'd like to go over it with them so they know that the small dent at the front of the door was also caused by the accident as well as the paint rubbed off the door moulding. She tells me not to worry and that if it's in the general area of the description, she's sure he'll figure it out. I don't even know who the hell HE is so that's not re-assuring.
"Is you're name Dottie?" I ask.
"No." She says. "Why?"
"I just thought I had talked to someone on the phone the other day by that name but I'm sure it was something else like Darbie or Dave."
About halfway up the mountain I tell Heather that I am extremely nervous. I woke up at 3 this morning and was up for 2 hours. Worrying. Some half whit is down there with a pack of Big League Chew and a putty knife to fill in the dents. Then he'll find some nail polish that's a close match and slather that on. I fear this is not going to turn out good for me.