My insurance company is almost driving me nuts because they’re still being reasonable and nice. Two day extension on the rental (for no apparent reason), help filling out forms for death benefits, a replacement value higher than what we paid for our vehicle in the first place. Cheques arriving to me days before I expected them?!
Today I contacted my insurance broker to get a quote on a vehicle I’m seriously considering buying. I was expecting my insurance would probably go up because of 2 wrecked vehicles in less than 6 months. And I was going to fight it based on the fact that the 2 claims shouldn’t reflect on me since I wasn’t the driver and the driver during both would no longer be driving. So I rolled up my mental tough cookie sleeves and made the call…turns out my insurance costs will drop.
Apparently this is another widow SUPEREPOWER, insurance companies have to be nice, reasonable and kind.
P and I test drove the vehicle yesterday. I like it a lot. But I pretty much loath the salesmen I’ve been dealing with.
They had just gotten the car in, the salesmen, we’ll call him Asshat, said they hadn’t really checked it out yet but he did know the air conditioning wasn’t working right.
So off P and I went. The air wasn’t great, there was a small alignment problem when I accelerated and braked, and there was a lot of road noise. Other than that it was a great ride! I took it to a school parking lot and zipped around doing tight turns, then on the highway to see how it handled braking and highway speeds…or faster.
So we had a fun test drive, I dropped P off at home on my way to returning the car and to talk pricing with Asshat.
Asshat knows it’s a good car, and also was slightly condescending as only used car salesmen can be to women. He didn’t call me “little lady” but you get the picture.
Then he started the pressure sales tactics, when I called him on it he denied it but did mention twice that once they put it out on the lot it would sell very quickly. I was getting upset at this point, I’m under enough stress right now, and I don’t need this. Which I pretty much told him, then he mentioned for a third time that the car would sell quickly….I took a deep breath and told him exactly why I didn’t need the stress. Asshat told me he knew about HIS death and that he knew what I was going through?!?!?
BULLSHIT.
Our meeting ended very shortly after that with him saying he’d call after the mechanics had gone over the car to assess what needed to be done and come up with a firmer price on the car.
I was furious when I drove home; he knew what I was going through?!?!? He hadn’t lost a spouse so how the fuck could he?!?!?
Plus, I was now feeling that a car I really liked was tainted by the Asshat.
P, R and a beer only made me feel slightly better.
So Asshat phoned today to give me the skinny on what work they’d be doing on the car, the first thing on the list, replace the tires which were badly worn and in some places cracking on the sides underneath the car. (At this point P, who reads this blog, is having kittens). Asshat let us take a car out for a test drive that hadn’t even been looked at by a mechanic, never mind safetied?!?!?! Sure, they spent a few hours detailing the hell out of it before I test drove, but a basic safety check, not so much. Un-fucking-believable.
Asshat would usually be a funny story to tell friends but I’ve been feeling very overwhelmed lately, very stressed, at times almost panicked.
P and R visited for 3 days, (we got a lot done about HIS finances, not all good news but its done), starting today I have a very heavy work schedule over the weekend, and then my parents show up.
On one hand there’s just so much to do and I don’t feel like I can stop until it’s all done, on the other I just want to have a few days of downtime to myself.
I think this is my brain waging war with my emotions. My emotions want downtime to grieve (apparently it wants more attention than nights alone in our bed, and random crying jags during the day); my brain wants to keep us busy so we can’t do this.
And I’m stuck in the middle, emotional and frantic.
I think they need to add another “stage” to the official list of grieving, “fucked up mess” would pretty much cover it.
No comments:
Post a Comment