Mr. Riddick,
I understood from our phone conversation last Monday morning that Koons would cut a check and return my money last week and I would receive it by the end of the week. That has not occurred. This is quite possibly the worst customer service I have ever received from any company ever, which would have been an easy car sale from the very beginning. I detailed exactly the specs of my new car, we negotiated my trade of my current C70 yet the order was never placed by Koons. When it was finally discovered and decided to place the order I was told 6-8 weeks for delivery. After 6-8 weeks, with no arrival of the car, no one thought to tell me my new car's production would not be until DECEMBER (which makes me question if the order was ever placed the SECOND time). Now, as I request my money back, I haven't received that. In an economy that is lagging, it surprises me this behavior is even occurring. I am very sorry I ever decided to use Koons as my dealer of choice and will assuredly not look to them again for my future purchases. This ordeal has been a ridiculous, unprofessional circus.
Please return my money _immediately_.
Stuart Williams
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
ERROR! ERROR! Does Not Compute!
I often wonder what goes through the short-circuited minds of the folks with whom I interact on a daily basis. Increasingly, I am beginning to be more and more vocal to these folks with respect to my direct feelings - call it old age, or downright brazenness, I am enjoying my foray into geezerdom.
Today, I missed my usual express train and had to take the local on my way home from work. It's surprising the difference in attitudes of the people on these two trains that leave within mere minutes of each other.
The express train is full of regulars who have a very set schedule, who are the types who always park in the same parking spot, who alphabetized their refrigerator contents and color code their underwear drawer. The local, shall we say, isn't.
As the crowd waited for the departure track to be posted, folks began their usual crowding around the gate door. This group, inevitably is the group that races to the front of the train to occupy the "quiet car," -- God's greatest gift to travel-kind.
So, the track gets posted, and everyone starts their mad dash for their coveted spots on the train. I just let my body be moved by the surge toward the general direction of the train. I liken it to a mosh pit at a rock concert, only with poorly-dressed Federal workers in their suits and athletic shoes as the moshers, and the roar of diesel engines as the thrashing music.
In this particular case I was getting moved along when, out of (literally) left field, this woman pushes into me and a few of my fellow moshers, stepping on my foot, jabbing the ribs of the lady ahead of me, pushing forward the guy in front of her all while rolling her luggage-sized briefcase behind her very unnecessary rear-end. The effort to gain those two feet in the crowd just did not compute to me.
As she jabs the woman in front of me, I proclaim loudly to the ribbed Frau ahead of me, "That's ok, let her push through. When she gets to where she's going, and we get to where we are going, at least *we* are not assholes."
The offender immediately knew I was referring to her and whipped her head around to glare her disapproval. So, I quip, "Truth hurts, does it not?"
My goal isn't to hurt someone or mar them with some catty comment. My goal is to give them pause before doing it again. I've come to the realization that most of these folks just aren't aware of their rude behavior, so it is my duty (and privilege) to point it out.
Today, I missed my usual express train and had to take the local on my way home from work. It's surprising the difference in attitudes of the people on these two trains that leave within mere minutes of each other.
The express train is full of regulars who have a very set schedule, who are the types who always park in the same parking spot, who alphabetized their refrigerator contents and color code their underwear drawer. The local, shall we say, isn't.
As the crowd waited for the departure track to be posted, folks began their usual crowding around the gate door. This group, inevitably is the group that races to the front of the train to occupy the "quiet car," -- God's greatest gift to travel-kind.
So, the track gets posted, and everyone starts their mad dash for their coveted spots on the train. I just let my body be moved by the surge toward the general direction of the train. I liken it to a mosh pit at a rock concert, only with poorly-dressed Federal workers in their suits and athletic shoes as the moshers, and the roar of diesel engines as the thrashing music.
In this particular case I was getting moved along when, out of (literally) left field, this woman pushes into me and a few of my fellow moshers, stepping on my foot, jabbing the ribs of the lady ahead of me, pushing forward the guy in front of her all while rolling her luggage-sized briefcase behind her very unnecessary rear-end. The effort to gain those two feet in the crowd just did not compute to me.
As she jabs the woman in front of me, I proclaim loudly to the ribbed Frau ahead of me, "That's ok, let her push through. When she gets to where she's going, and we get to where we are going, at least *we* are not assholes."
The offender immediately knew I was referring to her and whipped her head around to glare her disapproval. So, I quip, "Truth hurts, does it not?"
My goal isn't to hurt someone or mar them with some catty comment. My goal is to give them pause before doing it again. I've come to the realization that most of these folks just aren't aware of their rude behavior, so it is my duty (and privilege) to point it out.
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