At the Car Wash...

There's something I find extremely relaxing about getting my car washed. I don't know if it's the colored foam soap (the child in me is still very much alive), the solitude of it all, or the fact that something is being cleaned and all I have to do is make sure my car is in neutral. I take my car through the wash every few weeks, especially after bad weather.

Well, Tuesday brought bad weather, so Wednesday found me at the car wash. I made my wash selection and pulled in through the garage door. The door lowered behind me as the machine started soaping up my car. Just as the soap covered each window, the machine came to a grinding halt. I waited for it to power back up, but I got nothing. I flipped on my wipers to see if I could identify a problem. What I saw was the front garage door raising, indicating that my wash was over and it was time for me to exit.

By the time I got my car in gear and my foot off the brake, the door was coming back down. I was stuck in the car wash. Trapped. My car covered in soap. Freezing cold.

My college didn't offer a course in random building escape, but since I'm a pretty sharp gal I tried backing up to get as close as possible to the entry garage door to see if I could trigger a sensor to open it. I tried the same with the front garage door. Then, because I guess I'm not such a smartie after all, I called my husband.

"Hey babe," he said.

"You have to come get me," I said.

"Why? What happened? Where are you? Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm at the car wash. Nay, I'm actually stuck inside the car wash." (Ok, so I didn't say the word "nay" at all in this conversation. But I thought it added to the story so I embellished. I don't even think I used it correctly.)

"What do you mean you're stuck inside the car wash?" he asked.

I became agitated.

"I mean I'm stuck inside the friggin' car wash. Both garage doors are closed and they won't open. There's soap all over my car and I'm trapped and I need you to come up here so you can call the number on the outside of the building!"

Yes, I knew there was a number posted on the outside of the building. I told you, I go to this car wash a lot. And I also told you that I'm a sharp gal. So perhaps I should have already noticed at this point that there was a door--a human door, if you will--in the middle of the building. So I unbuckled my seat belt (safety first, especially at a car wash where the car sits stationary) and stepped out of the car. I tried the door and it opened. I walked around to the front, called the number and explained to the gentleman on the other end that I was stuck inside of his car wash. He said he'd be there in a jiffy.

After sitting with P for a bit inside his warm car, the gentleman arrived, handed me $10 and sprung me from the car wash. Then he paid for me to go through again to get the soap off my car and offered to pay for my next visit. I had already tried to refuse the first $10 several times because I really wasn't mad. The car wash is a machine. Machines break down. People fix them. It wasn't his fault. But it did get me thinking. The more he offered me, the more I refused. He provided me with good customer service and that's all I wanted. Most times, however, the less companies assume responsibility, the angrier I become. Just own up to it--that's all I'm asking.

Now, most people probably would have accepted his offers, but I was just happy he was trying to make it right. Heck, I was just happy the guy who owned the place lived down the street instead of in Florida. I guess all I'm saying is that if he would have shown up with a passive-aggressive attitude and said things like "Are you sure you pushed the right buttons?" or "Did you pull up to the right spot?" I would have been fired up. But he was cool, so I was cool, and we both left happy. P was happy too because the rest of the night he kept randomly cracking up and saying "I can't believe you got stuck in the car wash."