Wednesday, March 05, 2008
The Marketing People Would Never Go For That
I park in downtown Houston every day for work and, like any major metro area, this costs moola. I found perhaps the most reasonable monthly parking area that's reasonably close to my office. (Hey, what am I going to do? Walk? Get exercise? Get real, people.) It's quite a bit less than the garages, mainly because it's a surface lot. That's fine right now but I imagine when it's 105 degrees in July it might be a problem. It becomes a bigger problem if I forget to crack my windows and the car explodes or my dashboard melts. (Or if, you know, I forget to take Maya to doggie day care and her brain fries like a egg.)
Anyway, they seem to be fairly on-the-ball but they're a little bit of a one-horse operation. There's one guy who patrols the lot, checking out who has a tag and who doesn't and who is paying the daily rate, etc. And there's one woman who works in the office and handles the paperwork, monthly billing, etc. And one might think that if your job consists of something related to parking cars, well, you might know a little something about... cars.
Apparently, I was half-asleep the other morning when I parked. I thought I was in a row that my tag is good for and so I went about my day. But it turns out I actually parked in a "reserved" spot. One that's not reserved for me, that is.
So I get a call from "Hilda" and she says, "Hey, I think you're in a reserved spot." I told her she must be mistaken because I think I know where I parked (I turned out to be wrong but that's not the point -- me being wrong is never the point). She then says, "Whoops! I brought up the wrong account! Sorry!" No problem.
Five minutes later she calls back and says, no, it is my car -- they think. I said, okaaaay. She then attempts to prove it's my car by asking if it's mine.... and she says this:
"Well, do you have a..... Honda Acura?"
I wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious it was my car in question but it would be more fun to be difficult.
"I don't know what that is," I said. "I think those are two different kinds of cars."
"Well, that's just what they told me," she lied. (She had to be lying because Gary, who works the lot in a knit cap when it's 70 degrees out, has to know cars.)
I said, "Well, I have one of those... which is it?"
She then confirmed my plate number and the jig was up. But I think I'm going to start telling people I have a Honda Acura. Let's just cut to the chase, you know?
Anyway, they seem to be fairly on-the-ball but they're a little bit of a one-horse operation. There's one guy who patrols the lot, checking out who has a tag and who doesn't and who is paying the daily rate, etc. And there's one woman who works in the office and handles the paperwork, monthly billing, etc. And one might think that if your job consists of something related to parking cars, well, you might know a little something about... cars.
Apparently, I was half-asleep the other morning when I parked. I thought I was in a row that my tag is good for and so I went about my day. But it turns out I actually parked in a "reserved" spot. One that's not reserved for me, that is.
So I get a call from "Hilda" and she says, "Hey, I think you're in a reserved spot." I told her she must be mistaken because I think I know where I parked (I turned out to be wrong but that's not the point -- me being wrong is never the point). She then says, "Whoops! I brought up the wrong account! Sorry!" No problem.
Five minutes later she calls back and says, no, it is my car -- they think. I said, okaaaay. She then attempts to prove it's my car by asking if it's mine.... and she says this:
"Well, do you have a..... Honda Acura?"
I wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious it was my car in question but it would be more fun to be difficult.
"I don't know what that is," I said. "I think those are two different kinds of cars."
"Well, that's just what they told me," she lied. (She had to be lying because Gary, who works the lot in a knit cap when it's 70 degrees out, has to know cars.)
I said, "Well, I have one of those... which is it?"
She then confirmed my plate number and the jig was up. But I think I'm going to start telling people I have a Honda Acura. Let's just cut to the chase, you know?
Labels: Honda Acura, Houston, parking
