Seriously pissed off cabbit ahead...
Oct. 19th, 2004 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzillaYou've been warned.
Just when I thought it was safe, and things were going according to plan,
I called this afternoon, like the contract thing said, trying to find out where to return the truck. The damned thing has beaten me near to death, up to and including (slight) possiblility of a concussion; I just want rid of the bastard before I dislocate my bad knee again and end up eating pavement again. The lady was polite and (it seemed at the time) helpful, even apologetic when it became obvious I'd missed (by almost three hours) the specified return time. Fine, it meant begging for another day's worth of fees, but it wasn't a contract-times-three penalty. She explained that an 'after hours dropoff' would be fine, and gave me the address of the nearest U-Haul location so that I could get the truck back sometime tonight. Megan finally got home from her class, and we buttoned up the house and headed out for the U-Haul place; an errand that failed dismally when it turned out to not be where I'd expected. After a brief spat with Megan born of mutual frustration, she whips out her cellphone and calls U-Haul.
She got someone completely different. And was told that the 'after hours' policy only affected the 24hour stores. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but if a place is open TWENTY FOUR HOURS A FUCKING DAY, there's no damned 'after hours' at all. It's not mentioned at ALL in either contract or the helpful little pamphlet. Another frustration-prompted fight errupted. She called U-Haul back again, trying to find the closest 24hr depot... WHICH WAS FIFTY MILES AWAY, and in a rough-ish neighborhood.
The truck is parked in front of the Glen Burnie house. We'll pick it up tomorrow and return it then. And I MIGHT manage to hold my temper long enough to get out without strangling someone. Yes, Budget was more expensive... but Budget would'nt have bent me over the back bumper, thrown sand at my ass, and then shoved a handtruck in. Now I'll note, simply for accuracy, that I've had a glass and a half of wine since the U-Haul clusterfuck ripped me a new ass... wine has a mellowing effect on me.
I'm still ranting. That's how damned mad I am right now. I want someone in an orange and white fucking jumpsuit so I can beat them senseless and then strangle them. I'd rather bend over for Billy Gates and his stormtroopers than give F.U-Haul another chance to do this to me.
*stalks off, muttering under her breath about bouncing betty's, shrapnel grenades, and detonator caps*
Just when I thought it was safe, and things were going according to plan,
U-HAUL FUCKING SHANKS ME AGAIN!
I called this afternoon, like the contract thing said, trying to find out where to return the truck. The damned thing has beaten me near to death, up to and including (slight) possiblility of a concussion; I just want rid of the bastard before I dislocate my bad knee again and end up eating pavement again. The lady was polite and (it seemed at the time) helpful, even apologetic when it became obvious I'd missed (by almost three hours) the specified return time. Fine, it meant begging for another day's worth of fees, but it wasn't a contract-times-three penalty. She explained that an 'after hours dropoff' would be fine, and gave me the address of the nearest U-Haul location so that I could get the truck back sometime tonight. Megan finally got home from her class, and we buttoned up the house and headed out for the U-Haul place; an errand that failed dismally when it turned out to not be where I'd expected. After a brief spat with Megan born of mutual frustration, she whips out her cellphone and calls U-Haul.
She got someone completely different. And was told that the 'after hours' policy only affected the 24hour stores. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but if a place is open TWENTY FOUR HOURS A FUCKING DAY, there's no damned 'after hours' at all. It's not mentioned at ALL in either contract or the helpful little pamphlet. Another frustration-prompted fight errupted. She called U-Haul back again, trying to find the closest 24hr depot... WHICH WAS FIFTY MILES AWAY, and in a rough-ish neighborhood.
The truck is parked in front of the Glen Burnie house. We'll pick it up tomorrow and return it then. And I MIGHT manage to hold my temper long enough to get out without strangling someone. Yes, Budget was more expensive... but Budget would'nt have bent me over the back bumper, thrown sand at my ass, and then shoved a handtruck in. Now I'll note, simply for accuracy, that I've had a glass and a half of wine since the U-Haul clusterfuck ripped me a new ass... wine has a mellowing effect on me.
I'm still ranting. That's how damned mad I am right now. I want someone in an orange and white fucking jumpsuit so I can beat them senseless and then strangle them. I'd rather bend over for Billy Gates and his stormtroopers than give F.U-Haul another chance to do this to me.
*stalks off, muttering under her breath about bouncing betty's, shrapnel grenades, and detonator caps*
