Rant #2,934: I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down

I had a very weird morning yesterday.
 
As I outlined in Thursday’s Rant, I had to go to the car dealer to get my door jamb fixed.
 
Yes, my door jamb, which is such an innocuous part of any car that I had to look it up to find out what it was called and exactly what its purpose was.
 
It is basically the mechanism that aligns the door so that when you shut the door, the car reads that it is shut, and thus, any mechanism that is related to the car being shut—such as inside lights and the ability to lock the doors from the inside—is enabled.
 
A part of the car that you have seen but never have to worry about … well I had to worry about it, because I was getting a message on my dashboard that the doors were open when they weren’t, and it affected the very mechanisms I just mentioned.
 
So, I brought my car to the local Kia dealer, the same dealer that I bought the car from—actually bought three cars from—and the dealer through which I won that contest a few years ago where my wife and I traveled to South Korea.
 
I had a 7:30 a.m. appointment, was there by 7 a.m., and ate my breakfast as I waited for the dealership to open.

(Just as a side note, another person came to have his car worked on about 20 minutes after I did, and I kid you not, he tried to skirt the line and get ahead of me, happily to no avail.}
 
It did, I explained the problem, and I waited in the waiting room.
 
Two hours later, a little past 9:30 a.m., the guy that checked me in came out to me and told me to go to the front of the establishment, where I assumed I would have my car ready and have to pay $188 for getting this innocuous part fixed.
 
(I knew it was $188 because they had already sent me an itemized bill in my email.)
 
I went to the front of the establishment, where one of the workers drove my car up to the front.
 
They guy helping me told me the following:
 
“Look, you have dents in your inside door caused by the seatbelt getting caught in the door, and it has caused the door to slightly move apart from the door jamb.
 
“We can’t do anything about it. You need to go to an auto repair body shop, where they will take the door off its hinges and repair the dents.”
 
We walked to the car and he showed me the dents, which were so minor that I could have punched my fist into the same area and made even a bigger dent.
 
In fact, they were in between dents and slightly deep scratches,, to be honest with you.
 
“That is what you are going to have to do, or you are going to have to learn to live with it.”
 
I replied, “I understand, but having the door jamb like it is screws up the rest of the car—“
 
“Well, you need to go to a body shop or learn to live with it.”
 
I was not charged for this sage advice, and I got in the car and drove away.
 
The entire time driving home I thought that what he said perhaps wasn’t 100 percent incorrect, but there had to be a better way to do this that would solve the problem.
 
I decided to go to the first auto body place I saw, and ask them about such a problem, and, in fact, if the door had to be taken off to fix, when I could have it done and the approximate cost of the work.
 
I went into the first one I saw, explained the problem to the receptionist, and the manager came out and took a look at the problem.
 
“Yes, it is separated, but not by much,” he told me.
 
He immediately went back into the shop, brought out another worker, and in his hands were some parts.
 
He opened the door, and within about two minutes, the parts were affixed to the car. He tried the door, and it worked!
 
“What did you do to fix it?” I asked with glee that I didn’t have to have the door taken off nor had “to live with it.”
 
I don’t remember all the technical terms he used, but he basically replaced the door jamb mechanism with bigger, maybe fatter parts, and since the new parts were larger than the old parts, it covered up the gap, and worked like a charm.
 
“No charge,” he said. “Have a nice day.”
 
I thanked him profusely, and drove the car away, with no problems, and the fix worked perfectly as I used the car throughout the day.
 
Funny, I remember that when I told the manager what Kia said to me about this problem, I saw him shake his head in dismay.
 
I am still shaking my head in dismay over this incident.
 
I mean, this is a Kia car—it is their car—and they didn’t know this fix?
 
How can that be? How could they tell me what they did—that the door would have to be removed from its hinges and repaired, which would have cost me a pretty penny?
 
And how could this dealer—again, this is where I bought this car, as well as two others—the very dealer that I won the contest from—tell me “you might have to learn to live with it.”
 
This makes no sense at all, I mean, none at all.
 
It has to do with complete and total incompetency, and I will never go to that dealer for anything ever again.
 
They have completely lost me over nonsense, and perhaps their own laziness.
 
So be it.
 
I just wish I could get such an easy fix with my pool.
 
And for my computer, which I discovered yesterday when I forgot to turn off the timed start, needs about a half hour to boot up … it is usable, I am typing on it now, but it remains on life support … but I will milk it for all it is worth until that day comes.
 
What else can go wrong … I am not waiting for the next blip, but I am almost expecting it.
 
Have a nice weekend. I have another early appointment on Monday, so I will speak to you again on Tuesday.
 
No white lies on this one … I have a 7 a.m. appointment—
 
To get my car checked out before we hit the road for our vacation.
 
Not by Kia, by the way.