"Go Further." That's the new Ford Motor Car slogan. They should specify. Further than what? An inch?
Don't buy a Ford Fiesta. Ever.
Not that you planned to. It is kind of a kiddie-car. Something parents might buy their 16 year old daughter, but only if they didn't like her very much and had lost their life savings.
Still, I bought one, new. It seemed so uncomplicated, just one step above a Schwinn with training wheels. Because all I ask, all I've ever asked of a car is that it, you know, start, and the FM radio works. I'd even opt for roll-down windows over electric, as it's one less thing to go wrong.
But this car, this 2011 Ford Fiesta, couldn't even make it to 12,000 fucking miles without a total meltdown. I was taking it in for a service appointment -- where I bought the car, mind you -- (a 9:45 a.m. appointment; surely they must be efficient if booking on the quarter hour), and it died completely, at an intersection, one block from the destination, Star Ford. I coasted down a side street and it came to a complete stop in the middle of the driveway of another dealership.
I hoofed it over to Star Ford and said, "I've got a 9:45 appointment and my car just died one block away. Can you get me a tow?"
Well, no. "We're really busy," said my -- what's the title? -- oh yes, Service Adviser. "As you can see, I've got people waiting."
"But I'm blocking a driveway. You have my info, can't you call so I can get back to the car and make sure the city doesn't tow it away?"
Well, no. "I've got people waiting." And he pointed me to a phone so I could make my own arrangements.
Which I did. And ran back to the car. An hour later, me and my pumpkin arrived.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you," said my Service Adviser. "But you understand..."
"I know, you had people waiting."
So he processed the paperwork and told me to wait with the other lost souls, under the red tarmac. I lasted about ten minutes and called for a ride.
It's six hours later and I haven't heard anything. I phoned. "We haven't gotten to your car yet. There were three that arrived before yours."
I pointed out that I had been on time, it was my car that died, one block away, and had to be towed, with no help from him. So technically, these three cars were not ahead of me.
"But now they are," my Service Adviser advised. "I can tell you, we won't get to it today."
Which I found interesting. Would he have left me waiting under the red tarmac all morning and afternoon, and then sent me home, car-less? Was that his plan of action? Is that what generally worked for him, under similar situations?
"Can you guarantee I'll have my car tomorrow?"
My Service Adviser scoffed. "I don't know if we even have the parts."
I'm no good at customer service arguments; some people manage to come out on the winning side, I never do.
I brought up the Ford Corporate Facebook page and posted a tantrum, next to the "Ford Does it Again!" and "Quality is Our Job" entries. I haven't heard back so they probably zapped it.
Yeah, I just checked, they zapped it. Replaced by: So You Think You Can Dance auditions head to Detroit tonight and we were fortunate to have host Cat Deeley film some scenes from the line of our very own Dearborn Truck Plant!
Take my advice, and don't buy a Ford. Or don't take my advice and buy a Ford -- then you can Go Further, but only if you're walking.
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
Why I hate Ford
Posted on 17:50 by john mickal
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