Sitting Ducks ... Are Good Targets Only if They Stay in Place and Behave as Expected

“The problem is that I don’t have a larger car on the lot,” he said. (I restrained myself from saying: So that’s what this is all about!). “If you’ll wait half an hour, I’ve got one coming in.” I couldn’t walk off in a huff inasmuch as I’d arrived without a car, so I sat down to wait. Half an hour dragged by. No larger car appeared.

The young man then offered me a sport utility vehicle. We looked at it, but I felt constrained to point out that to get into it, one had to be able to climb, and there was no way that a 4’10”, 93-year-old, wheelchair-bound woman was going to be able to handle it.

For another hour, I sat in the office, waiting for a larger car to be returned. Finally, I made some cranky noises, and was loaned a small car to drive home, with the promise that a larger one would be exchanged for it as soon as possible.

I was home for scarcely half an hour when, true to their word, the driver showed up with a Buick Century. He took the loaner back, and I got into the Buick to move it into the carport. Immediately, the “low tire” light came on. I called the rental agency.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” the clerk said. “We had that tire checked and it’s just fine, but we can’t turn the light off until the next servicing.”

When I actually drove the car the next morning, I discovered that it was not fine at all. There was a distinct “wocka-wocka” noise coming from the right front wheel. I checked the tire pressure at the gas station. The right rear wheel was several pounds low, but the right front wheel was right on the recommended pressure. I called the agency again. A new clerk answered.

“Oh,” he said, “There’s really nothing to worry about. There’s probably just something stuck to the wheel.”

“No,” I said, “there is definitely something wrong. Even my deaf mother can hear it.”

“Look,” he said with exasperation, “the last guy who rented it drove all the way to Florida and back, and HE never complained about it.”

“Are you telling me that this has happened while it sat overnight in my driveway?” I asked him. He quickly backed down, even though he kept insisting that nothing could be wrong with it, and agreed to find me another car. It took three days. When I went to the lot to pick up the new car, the same clerk said, with a dismissive laugh:

“That’s nothing but an old bald spot on the tire. Haven’t you ever driven a car with a bald spot on a tire?” Since he hadn’t so much as looked at the tire or the car, I could only assume that he’d known about the bald spot all along. And no, I told him politely, I certainly had never driven a car with a bald spot on the tire, especially not a front wheel drive vehicle, which would become quite unmanageable should that bald spot give way. And he had no business renting me one.

I don’t think of myself as someone who is quick to take offense, but there I was, feeling like a sitting duck again. These youngsters seemed to feel that an older woman wouldn’t be able to resist their glib salesmanship, and when I stood up for myself, they made it clear that they felt I was being unreasonable and demanding.

I don’t suppose that there is much to learn from this tale of woe, except that sitting ducks are good targets only if they stay in place and behave as expected. I for one intend to keep squawking, flapping my wings, and paddling my little webbed feet like crazy.

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Sitting Ducks ... Are Good Targets Only if They Stay in Place and Behave as Expected

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