I recently had what turned out to be the longest automotive service experience of memory, and both showed automotive service business at its best, and, in some very specific ways, at its worst.

So, I ask for your understanding in this personal tale, in the hope that it will resonate. 

It may not have been as long a journey as our stranded Ulysees of recently rekindled fame, but it was far longer than any sane person would have predicted, and, well, let me get into it before I spoil the story.

First some background: My 2017 VW Alltrack as been a pretty solid performer, though not without a couple of repairs. Which is why I have been glad that I purchased the extended warranty (ya, I know, it’s technically a service contract) when I bought it as a two-year-old vehicle from a non-VW dealership in town. 

Which is also why this is a dealer service department story, and not an independent aftermarket service provider story. I’ve not specified the dealers or the warranty company, because I don’t want the broader message to be lost in place of finger pointing.

About two years ago now, the condenser failed. Covered without question under the warranty. A parts delay meant it didn’t get repaired for a few months, in the middle of winter, and then there was that first warm day where it didn’t blow cold. Back to the dealer for service, I’m not 100% what they did but things seemed fine after that.

Then earlier this year, the first warm day (I was actually in Toronto to attend the AIA Canada National Conference in March), the condenser had failed. Again. 

It all seemed so straightforward—it’s a covered part in the extended warranty, but also still covered under a parts warranty—but then VW, the servicing dealer, and the warranty company, started arguing over whose responsibility it was to pick up which part of the parts and labour tab.

I got a note from the servicing dealer than I needed to bring the car to the VW dealer for inspection. Which I did. And which resulted in one of the least respectful customer experiences ever. First, I got that “Why are you here?” reception. There was a lot of back and forth with the servicing dealer, with me feeling very caught in the middle. 

Then there was that kind of little-too-loud conversation between service advisor and who I took to be the service manager on what the parts warranty policy was. This was, for my benefit. It was pretty rude.

Almost as rude as trying to charge me for that inspection. 

This was, after all, a discussion between the servicing dealer, VW (via its dealer), and the warranty provider. I was just along for the very-rough ride. 

By this point, the calendar had now flipped over the May. This “odyssey” started in March. 

I’ll be quick about the next few parts.

More back and forth ensues and in early June my car finally gets scheduled in at the service dealer, though still without a resolution on who is paying for what. 

This would go on for another six weeks, car in their service department, into mid-July.

So, just to recap, for a fairly straightforward service need – not some headscratcher diagnostic nightmare; it’s a condenser replacement–four months in process, six weeks in the service department. That’s outstandingly bad, even if you’re not a fan of the dealership model.

It took so long that my original service adviser had retired and (fun fact) been replaced by the service advisor I dealt with at the VW dealer. You can’t make this stuff up. 

In mid-July “Happy Friday!” texted the service advisor cheerfully.

And of course, when I arrived to pick up my car, it had a completely dead battery. Perfect.

Yes, I was on my way shorty, but I was back to get the toe-in corrected as I’d also had them replace a clunky ball joint in the meantime. I’m pretty sure the tech was sick of seeing my car by then, so I kind of don’t blame them for not finishing the job there. I’m probably being too kind.

Along this epic journey, there were dozens of communications with service advisors and others. Dozens. All very polite. Well, some less so. Most cheerful.  Some less so. In some of theirs you could sense their frustration; in some of mine, I stated my frustration bluntly. 

Mostly the sense I got was passive acceptance to a process that left me completely out in the cold and without the use of my car.

Forgotten.

Wasn’t that Ulysses greatest fear? To be forgotten? In some small way, I know how he felt.

The lesson I think from all of this for a service business is to not let process take control of your customer relationship. 

The thing is, I’m not actually upset with the individuals I dealt with—anymore than Ulysses was angry with the gods–but if someone, at some point, had stepped up and short circuited the process and kept their three-way negotiation internal, it would have resulted in an acceptable customer experience. 

And for those who think that’s the end of the tale, it is not. Since my nearly 10-year-old car spent the better part of this year “in the service department,” I’m now under pressure to replace it since “it’s always in the shop.” 

When you fail the customer, that’s the kind of outcome you can get.

No tidy endings, no cathartic release, just a gnawing dissatisfaction with the whole journey that I’m reminded of every time I get into that car. 

I’m sure you can think many reasons why the situation “had to” unfold as it did–this or that policy, not wanting to set a precedent, being too busy to really focus on it, lack of empowerment to make a decision, personnel changes, even sheer bloody mindedness over a parts bill, and maybe just bad luck — and one reason why it should not have happened this way: the customer. In this case me.

And, in a thematically consistent tone deafness, the final service interaction was the customer survey, reminding me that they need a 10/10 to pass, saying to let them know if there’s anything stopping me from giving them a 10/10. 

It was almost funny. Almost.

 I didn’t really know how to respond. Everyone was so pleasant but failed utterly where it counted.

I guess this is my response.

I’m always happy to hear from aftermarket professionals on matters of the industry, even personal accounts of when things went right, or wrong. Write me at AndrewRoss@JobberNation.ca.