Idiots and Holidays - a Rant
05-28-2012, 02:54 PM
#1
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Idiots and Holidays - a Rant
So it’s 5:45 PM on Saturday (we were supposed to close at 5:00 PM), it’s been a brutally hot and busy day and all we want to do is close and go home. Then the manager asks me if I want to take a quick service call just ¼ mile down the lake. “They’re just out of gas. Take them 5 gallons, get them running and you’ll be out of there in no time.” I should have known better. So he hands me a slip of paper with the cell phone number on it and another guy and I fill up a gas can and head out in the service boat.
On the way out the channel, I call the number to verify position and description of the boat. A guy answers and says it’s his boat, but he’s not on it. (Second warning sign.) Apparently his daughter, a group of her friends and one of their moms is on it. “Don’t worry; they’re just ¼ mile south of you on the east shore.” “I can see that part of the lake from where I am and nobody’s there” I tell him. “I need a number of somebody actually on the boat.” So then he’s got to hang up so he can look up his daughter’s cell phone number. He finally calls back and gives me a number. I try it twice and nobody answers. (Another warning sign.) Meanwhile I’m cruising around looking for a boat matching his description in distress to no avail.
Finally, my phone rings and it’s the mom. I ask her where she is and she describes my exact location. “Ma’am, I’m at that exact location and there isn’t a red and white boat within a mile of us.” “Can’t you see us waving?” She asks. (Yet another warning sign.) “No ma’am, I can’t see anybody waving at us. By the way, how do you know what I’m driving?” Seconds pass. “Uh, what kind of boat are you driving?” I then give her a description of the 23’ CC we’re in with the marina name plastered all over both sides. “Oh, we thought you were in the sailboat.” (Warning sign number I don’t know.)
After much more conversation between me and the mom and my partner and the boat owner, we try a different tack. “Can you describe any big landmarks on shore near you?” I ask. “Well, there this beautiful white house with a ladder against the porch.” (Sound of bad words I cannot print here.) She then rambles on about some other non-descript structures and I interrupt. “Ma’am, I’m going to give this search about another 5 minutes, then I’m going to have to turn you over to 911. You’re just not where you say you are.”
Then, the breakthrough. “Well, I guess we are sort of close to xxx marina.” She says. “Ma’am, that’s 3 miles south of where you said you were.” “Really? I didn’t think so” she replies.
So we start heading down the lake. I bet the other guy twenty bucks that they’re mostly blonde. When we finally find them – after 45 minutes on the lake – they’re 4 miles from where they said they were. And guess what? Five out of six were blondes! As my partner is pouring 5 gallons into their tank and getting it started, I deliver a verbal lashing for their navigational skills and inform them that service calls like this get billed by the hour. “If this had been a real emergency, what do you think your chances would have been?” I ask. When the mom puts up a bit of a stink, I point to the large restaurant we’re about 150 yards directly off shore from. “Do you know what that place is?” I ask. “Sure, we eat there all the time” she replies. “Do you think mentioning that might have speeded up the response a bit?” Why me? What do you want to bet they don’t pay the bill?
On the way out the channel, I call the number to verify position and description of the boat. A guy answers and says it’s his boat, but he’s not on it. (Second warning sign.) Apparently his daughter, a group of her friends and one of their moms is on it. “Don’t worry; they’re just ¼ mile south of you on the east shore.” “I can see that part of the lake from where I am and nobody’s there” I tell him. “I need a number of somebody actually on the boat.” So then he’s got to hang up so he can look up his daughter’s cell phone number. He finally calls back and gives me a number. I try it twice and nobody answers. (Another warning sign.) Meanwhile I’m cruising around looking for a boat matching his description in distress to no avail.
Finally, my phone rings and it’s the mom. I ask her where she is and she describes my exact location. “Ma’am, I’m at that exact location and there isn’t a red and white boat within a mile of us.” “Can’t you see us waving?” She asks. (Yet another warning sign.) “No ma’am, I can’t see anybody waving at us. By the way, how do you know what I’m driving?” Seconds pass. “Uh, what kind of boat are you driving?” I then give her a description of the 23’ CC we’re in with the marina name plastered all over both sides. “Oh, we thought you were in the sailboat.” (Warning sign number I don’t know.)
After much more conversation between me and the mom and my partner and the boat owner, we try a different tack. “Can you describe any big landmarks on shore near you?” I ask. “Well, there this beautiful white house with a ladder against the porch.” (Sound of bad words I cannot print here.) She then rambles on about some other non-descript structures and I interrupt. “Ma’am, I’m going to give this search about another 5 minutes, then I’m going to have to turn you over to 911. You’re just not where you say you are.”
Then, the breakthrough. “Well, I guess we are sort of close to xxx marina.” She says. “Ma’am, that’s 3 miles south of where you said you were.” “Really? I didn’t think so” she replies.
So we start heading down the lake. I bet the other guy twenty bucks that they’re mostly blonde. When we finally find them – after 45 minutes on the lake – they’re 4 miles from where they said they were. And guess what? Five out of six were blondes! As my partner is pouring 5 gallons into their tank and getting it started, I deliver a verbal lashing for their navigational skills and inform them that service calls like this get billed by the hour. “If this had been a real emergency, what do you think your chances would have been?” I ask. When the mom puts up a bit of a stink, I point to the large restaurant we’re about 150 yards directly off shore from. “Do you know what that place is?” I ask. “Sure, we eat there all the time” she replies. “Do you think mentioning that might have speeded up the response a bit?” Why me? What do you want to bet they don’t pay the bill?
05-28-2012, 04:03 PM
#3
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My wife wont ever touch my boat by herself, friends and daughters included!!! Shed be exactly what you just described, with exception that shed be on the rocks!
What was the guy thinking anyway?
Sorry you had to deal with that kind of crap...
What was the guy thinking anyway?
Sorry you had to deal with that kind of crap...
05-28-2012, 05:58 PM
#4
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As for my compensation, I get paid by the hour. Good thing it's just my "fun" job! I really doubt the owner will pay the bill once he sees it. Maybe a line item for idiocy?
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05-29-2012, 05:48 AM
#10
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Truth be told, they were pretty cute. Dumb, but cute. And no, I didn't get any pictures. Too hot, too tired and too pissed off.
