Recently I had my car worked on— a strange and expensive malfunction that was not my fault and (thank God) still covered under my warranty.  On the third week of being at the repair shop (a week longer than they had estimated), I called to find out what was going on and when my car would be ready.  Emphasis on “I called them”—even though they had promised to call me.  The shop manager was very cordial, explained that my warranty would cover the mega expense, that I now had a ‘brand new’ car in an older body and that I could pick it up that afternoon.  Urgh—the fool knew I was anxious to get my car back, especially when a 3-day weekend was coming up in a day. My thoughts of why he didn’t call me sooner, why he underestimated the time it would take to fix,  why he kept me on pins and needles regarding how much my warranty would cover dissipated when I knew I could pick up my car.  Yay!

The shop manager ended our phone conversation (in an overly saccharine tone) with the news that I would be receiving a service survey from his corporate headquarters to complete and asked if I would give him the highest marks of 10 for his great service.  I said “uh, sure”.  When I picked up my car and the manager gave me the skippin’ &  a’hummin’  walk to my car (including opening the driver’s door for me), he again mentioned the survey and that “10s would be the only acceptable marks” I could give.   I said “uh hum”.
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