or at the very least doesn’t consider the non-earning half worthy of attention or respect.
Top of my morning work list was to call Volkswagen to arrange the seven day cover included with the trade in of the old Passat/purchase of the new, which we are rather hoping will take place before the end of the week. All I had to do was provide some simple details, such as the retailer number, the make/model specs and the registration (license plate) number. As required, I’ll be dropping off a copy of the ‘proper’ insurance Wednesday, which we’ve arranged to begin as soon as the seven day cover ends. Here in the UK, as I understand it from the salesman, who – despite being corrected a number of times both in person and over the phone – keeps calling me ‘Dorothy’, you provide proof of insurance then you get the tax disc for your window. Hand over a check for the balance and off the lot you drive. A-B-C-D.
The info Volkswagen needs for the seven day cover is information that the local dealership already has, so it was rather annoying that I could not simply give them the date for which the insurance should start and they could take care of it. Frankly, they’ll be getting a LOT more for our in pretty damn good shape/low mileage trade-in than we are getting from them, plus the ‘special offers’ of several weekends ago weren’t all THAT great. They could do a little more work for this sale or at least put in a word at another division of their company to make this happen. Himself, being busier than a one-armed paper hanger since the start of 2010, devoted exactly one and a half hours to shopping for then buying a new car several Sundays ago and the rest was left to me.
It’s what I do.
Volkswagen insurance wouldn’t let me give to them the info required for us to get the ball rolling to allow us to purchase this car. I needed nothing from them. NOTHING, except to give over this information, which the salesman told me I would need to do on that Sunday we bought the car just as soon as he got us the registration number. I’m not the main policy holder, see. Just the wife and other driver. Can’t talk to ME. Usually when I get this treatment, I demand to speak to a supervisor to get things get sorted out but I have had quite enough of this anti-marriage sentiment that permeates all aspects of society. (Last week’s call to Lombard to try to track down some paperwork on the long paid-for old car, which they should have sent ages ago but didn’t, was a combo of p****d-off American/wife of a senior manager that works at the bank which owns this insurance company, with a shrivelling follow up call from my BH).
Once again, no sensitive material is being transferred – just some simple info which he could have confirmed with the dealership had that unhelpful boy felt the need to cover his backside. With the salesman who can’t seem to get my name right. Who also suggested that I call back and say I was the policy holder with the reasoning ‘you probably won’t get the same person’. ‘So I should lie?’ I asked. ‘You aren’t taping this, are you?’ he replied (I think in jest). Insurance fraud. Nice.
Maybe there are some wives out there that try sneaky, unethical or downright illegal shenanigans using their husband’s name. I am not one of them. Tarring us with the same brush as these women is a stupid move on the part of companies nowadays. Men may still be making more of the money, but WOMEN decide how a lot of it is spent. Do you think I am likely to support the purchase of another Volkswagen (never mind at the local dealership) after these incidents of repeated name-getting-wrong and refusing to accept some simple information that would enable Volkswagen to wrap up a sale sooner? Do you need a hint?
I’ll need to do something extra special for Himself tonight since he will have to call these chuckleheads or switch the dates of the permanent insurance at work today. He shouldn’t have to do this.
Now I’m in the mood for some complaint letters, but I am going to iron instead, then get in some more bulbs.
It’s what I do.