Cell Phoned Fury

Sometimes I hate technology. Today it's cell phone technology that I despise. Usually when I complain about things it's because they're malfunctioning or unreliable (or a triathlete). But what set me off today was a phone call that successfully made its way back to the service department. The call was about the details of our tune-ups, which I gladly answered since such calls are pretty common and are part of the selling process. We talked about prices, the types of adjustments, and our 48-hour turnover on tune ups. Usually these conversations last only a minute or two, five at the max. This conversation probably lasted nearly ten minutes, but it felt like nearly an hour. The caller continued to press on about the details of the tune and supplemented his questioning with detailed descriptions of some squeakiness coming from the back of the bike (it was a dry chain), the squidginess of his brakes (which he hadn't replaced in years), and as the list grew on, I began seriously thinking about hurting myself. After all, you can't field ridiculous, hypothetical questions if you've got a screwdriver through your hand, right? What bothered me most about our conversation wasn't that we would have the same one once he brought in the bike or that he was wasting my time when I had work orders to complete. It was that he prefaced his call with "Hi. I'm right near the Courthouse Metro station."

That meant that he was mere BLOCKS from my shop. Most people call from home, before they even think about taking their bike somewhere. This guy was already going to bring his bike in, but wanted to discuss the particulars of the work order without me looking at the bike. I'm not some fucking psychic mechanic. I can't guess exactly what your bike need. I can't guess any more accurately if you use words like "squidgy" or "squeaky" and I blame cell phone technology. If it weren't for cell phones, this caller simply would have walked the few blocks and had a productive and meaningful conversation about his bike and the repairs necessary to get him back on the road. Cell phones can be a very useful communication tool, especially in situations where you're stuck in traffic or for dialing 911 when being attacked by a surly mechanic. But if you use one just to give me a ten-minute long "heads up" about you and your neglected bike, spare me and my blood pressure and just walk into my shop (especially if you're only five blocks away). But you better be waving a white flag as soon as you step through my doors, otherwise I will end you.


Bonus News Flash:
A suit came in to pick up his bike and proceeded to stand at my front desk for five minutes typing away on his Blackberry. He's actually still standing there. I might have to choke him out with his periwinkle blue tie...