I suppose you are expecting a rant about poor service or high costs. I'll save you some time. This isn't about that. I will say though, that wher I peeked through the window between the reception area and the shop, I spied a tech sitting on a red something.. All I could see was the nose and the tech. I'm not aware of a red anything lately, so it looked like they were prepping a new red something.
Anyway, that's not what this is about.
i really do like to read the comments on this site about the helpful service from dealers around the country. This isn't quite that, either. I think this is a realization of what life in the big city is really like. My dealer is one of those "one stop for everything" kind of shop. They sell Ibdians, Harley's, Hondas, Yamahas, Suzukis, etc., etc. . . They have a huge building with what I perceive is several million dollars worth of inventory, with everything short of a car or boat for power sports. As big as that place is, and the number of folks they have working there, the overhead must be horrendous.
it was no surprise, then, when I dropped my Spyder off on Friday, that the young service advisor did't know much, if anything, about my spyder. He found me in the computer, and did everything he was supposed to (and did it well), and got me on my way with excellent efficiency. That sort of left me feeling just a little flat, though. Since I have a '013 ST-L I do get an occasional taste of the heat issues. Mine, though occur when the temp is at or above 100 and I get off the freeway and into stop and go traffic. But I digress. I really was hoping to talk to the "service guy" about that ang get the company line on the cat bypass and JT's air filter. But this young fellow just wasn't the one to indulge me. I got the impression he didn't know what I was talking about.
No, I'm not angry.
So, they call around 5:00 PM to tell me the Spyder is ready to be picked up. I told them I'd be over to get it on Saturday. You see, I live in the far southern suburbs of Phoenix and the dealer is in the northwestern suburbs. I it's 77 miles between my garage door and the dealer by inter city freeways. A little further using the back roads that I use. My point is, that I have empathy with those folks in the smaller townships out there. Although the dealer is "in town" it's still a significant drive. Yes, there are closer dealers, but my dealer, had THE spyder, and the deal.
So, on Saturday, I go and pick up my gleaming white toy. They even gave it a bath. Something I promised to do when I got it back from the shop. I'm there, but the service advisor who checked me in, isn't. But there is another very friendly fresh face standing there ready to help me. I give him my name and he looks me up in the computer, grabs his half helmet and tells me he'll be right back. Sure enough, 2 minutes later, he pulls my spyder out of the shop door and parks it in the reception area. "No charge" he says, "you have the maintenance agreement" (I know, I paid a lot for it " I didn't say.). I ask him if they printed the BUDS report. "What's that?" Was the reply. I just said "never mind, it's not important."
I asked him to sell me a quart of whatever oil they filled it with because it's going to be 4000 miles before I come back. "I can't sell it to you. You'll have to go over to the parts department to get that" he tells me apologetically. I wander over to the parts department and explain to another eager young man who tries his best to make feel that I am his only concern at the moment. "I know exactly what you need" he says as he walks away. "I'll be right back" he says over his shoulder. A couple minutes later he comes back empty handed with a disappointed look on his face. "All we have right now is the bulk stuff in drums. I could sell you a gallon from the oil change kit, though." He tells me. I thank him but declined. He told me to check back in a few days, they might have quarts in, by then. I thank him and go back to my spyder. I thanked the service advisor again and left. I then raced a nasty thunder storm home. (I won the race, barely)
So, as I was laying in my bed waking up this morning I spent some time dwelling on that experience. I admit that I'm old. I was around when they did the test marketing on dirt. I think my high school geometry teacher was some old Greek named Pathygoras, or something like that. Anyway, I grew up in a pair of small towns in Kansas. Neither town had more than 20,000 people. I grew used to knowing the name of my mechanic. I was used to talking with him about the car, bike, or whatever. After college and the service, my wife and I have been city dwellers and have, over time, grown used to the sterile, efficient kind of service that our society has morphed into. On one hand, I want to be angry and disappointed with the loss of that personalized service from those supposedly good old days. But then, the $80.00 an hour the dealer charges, pays for a lot of overhead. And that mechanic/technician that I don't see in the shop is probably certified by MMI or some other school. He/she probably makes a good, livable wage back there. Those very friendly, helpful folks who tried to check me in, out, and help me probably make decent money as well. I can't begrudge the dealer for charging what he does. He is, in fact, providing jobs. I do lament the this age of specialization and the space that the liability laws have put between the technician and the customer.
But, the spyder runs great! I'm going to gas her up and run a few errands.
For or those of you out there who still have that personal interaction with your dealer and service people, you have my envy. There is certainly nothing wrong with my experience yesterday. It just isn't as good as what you have.
Anyway, that's not what this is about.
i really do like to read the comments on this site about the helpful service from dealers around the country. This isn't quite that, either. I think this is a realization of what life in the big city is really like. My dealer is one of those "one stop for everything" kind of shop. They sell Ibdians, Harley's, Hondas, Yamahas, Suzukis, etc., etc. . . They have a huge building with what I perceive is several million dollars worth of inventory, with everything short of a car or boat for power sports. As big as that place is, and the number of folks they have working there, the overhead must be horrendous.
it was no surprise, then, when I dropped my Spyder off on Friday, that the young service advisor did't know much, if anything, about my spyder. He found me in the computer, and did everything he was supposed to (and did it well), and got me on my way with excellent efficiency. That sort of left me feeling just a little flat, though. Since I have a '013 ST-L I do get an occasional taste of the heat issues. Mine, though occur when the temp is at or above 100 and I get off the freeway and into stop and go traffic. But I digress. I really was hoping to talk to the "service guy" about that ang get the company line on the cat bypass and JT's air filter. But this young fellow just wasn't the one to indulge me. I got the impression he didn't know what I was talking about.
No, I'm not angry.
So, they call around 5:00 PM to tell me the Spyder is ready to be picked up. I told them I'd be over to get it on Saturday. You see, I live in the far southern suburbs of Phoenix and the dealer is in the northwestern suburbs. I it's 77 miles between my garage door and the dealer by inter city freeways. A little further using the back roads that I use. My point is, that I have empathy with those folks in the smaller townships out there. Although the dealer is "in town" it's still a significant drive. Yes, there are closer dealers, but my dealer, had THE spyder, and the deal.
So, on Saturday, I go and pick up my gleaming white toy. They even gave it a bath. Something I promised to do when I got it back from the shop. I'm there, but the service advisor who checked me in, isn't. But there is another very friendly fresh face standing there ready to help me. I give him my name and he looks me up in the computer, grabs his half helmet and tells me he'll be right back. Sure enough, 2 minutes later, he pulls my spyder out of the shop door and parks it in the reception area. "No charge" he says, "you have the maintenance agreement" (I know, I paid a lot for it " I didn't say.). I ask him if they printed the BUDS report. "What's that?" Was the reply. I just said "never mind, it's not important."
I asked him to sell me a quart of whatever oil they filled it with because it's going to be 4000 miles before I come back. "I can't sell it to you. You'll have to go over to the parts department to get that" he tells me apologetically. I wander over to the parts department and explain to another eager young man who tries his best to make feel that I am his only concern at the moment. "I know exactly what you need" he says as he walks away. "I'll be right back" he says over his shoulder. A couple minutes later he comes back empty handed with a disappointed look on his face. "All we have right now is the bulk stuff in drums. I could sell you a gallon from the oil change kit, though." He tells me. I thank him but declined. He told me to check back in a few days, they might have quarts in, by then. I thank him and go back to my spyder. I thanked the service advisor again and left. I then raced a nasty thunder storm home. (I won the race, barely)
So, as I was laying in my bed waking up this morning I spent some time dwelling on that experience. I admit that I'm old. I was around when they did the test marketing on dirt. I think my high school geometry teacher was some old Greek named Pathygoras, or something like that. Anyway, I grew up in a pair of small towns in Kansas. Neither town had more than 20,000 people. I grew used to knowing the name of my mechanic. I was used to talking with him about the car, bike, or whatever. After college and the service, my wife and I have been city dwellers and have, over time, grown used to the sterile, efficient kind of service that our society has morphed into. On one hand, I want to be angry and disappointed with the loss of that personalized service from those supposedly good old days. But then, the $80.00 an hour the dealer charges, pays for a lot of overhead. And that mechanic/technician that I don't see in the shop is probably certified by MMI or some other school. He/she probably makes a good, livable wage back there. Those very friendly, helpful folks who tried to check me in, out, and help me probably make decent money as well. I can't begrudge the dealer for charging what he does. He is, in fact, providing jobs. I do lament the this age of specialization and the space that the liability laws have put between the technician and the customer.
But, the spyder runs great! I'm going to gas her up and run a few errands.
For or those of you out there who still have that personal interaction with your dealer and service people, you have my envy. There is certainly nothing wrong with my experience yesterday. It just isn't as good as what you have.
