Dear Madam or Sir Tire King

August 9, 2007

Tire King
PO Box 1928
Durham, NC 27702


Dear Madam or Sir Tire King,

After spending a couple of hours in your Durham location on South Miami Blvd I thought I would write you a letter and let you know a little about your customers. The first thing you must know is that your customer is not generally going to be happy to begin with. Let’s face it, you're not running an amusement park. Nothing good can come from a visit to your shop. The very fact that I am in your shop means that my life has already been inconvenienced. No one wants to pay $400 for a part they can’t see and have no idea what it does. In my case, the state of North Carolina decided that I need to pay you $30 to tell me that my windshield wipers and turn signals work. Now, I’m sure there is more to it than that, but as a customer I skim the list of requirements and because I think the whole thing is stupid to begin with, I focus on the most ridiculous thing and that’s what I cling to. So in my mind I am paying you $30 to flip the turn signals on, which is dumb, because I rarely use them anyway.

The next thing you should know is that if I am waiting for my car, I don’t want to see your employees standing or, in my case, sitting around. You know that huge picture window you provided in the customer waiting room that overlooks the work area? It works. You can see through it. Think of it like being at the zoo and your employees are the animals. Instead of hearing, “Mommy, Mommy, the monkey is eating its poop!” you hear, “Mommy, Mommy, that mechanic hasn’t moved in half an hour, I think he’s dead.” At my trip to the Mechanic Zoo I got to see lots of action. I wasn’t really paying attention until I realized that there were two mechanics (in the customer’s eyes anyone in that area with a little grease on them or the mandatory two-toned button-down shirt is a mechanic) that hadn’t moved from their little rolling chairs in over half an hour. From that point on, mechanic watching became a spectator sport. In the next hour and a half I witnessed three trips to the vending machine, four cigarettes, one forward kick and two roundhouse kicks to the car lift, an impressive show of text-messaging while rolling around the room, what appeared to be reading of the side of several aerosol cans, mock swinging from the air hoses suspended from the ceiling, and a world-record-pace sprint across the entire floor to answer a cell phone. What I didn’t witness was any mechanic-ing. No tire pressure checked, no fan belts changed, not even the floor swept, and what I am really concerned with, no turn signal inspecting. All of this brings me to my last glimpse into the black hole that is the customer’s psyche.

When you are in the wrong (perhaps when a customer points out that two of your employees have been sitting around for two hours) and it is obvious by the look on your face that you know you are in the wrong, just admit it. The customer isn’t interested in your excuses because, unlike your employees, I am not getting paid for sitting around. I don’t care if you are “short-handed.” Of course you’re “short-handed,” because two of your employees aren’t doing anything. I also don’t care that neither of those guys could have done my inspection because they aren’t licensed by the state. In my mind, there are lots of things they could have been doing. Perhaps they could help the one guy that is licensed to do inspections finish whatever he is doing so he could do my inspection. Or even studying for the state inspection exam might be a good use of their time. That way maybe next time you won’t be “short-handed.”

As a customer, I am sophisticated. I know that it is six to ten times more expensive to get a new customer than it is to retain an existing one. I also know that a satisfied customer usually tells three people about their experience, whereas an unsatisfied customer will tell nine people about their experience. In this case, I hope both of these are true. I hope you have to work hard and pay a lot to replace me. As for that second fact, I know it will be true, as I posted this on the internet prior to sending it to you.

This letter was just meant to give you a peek of what I experienced in my one (and only) visit to your facility. Take it for what its worth. Hang it up, throw it away, or laugh at it- I don’t care. My work here is done.