Coincidence?

The day we left for Canada was funny. Well, not really. But now looking back it was.

The night before we left, Joel was telling the kids about how funny it was that he was supposed to have had an ortho appointment that week to check his expander, but how instead they just scheduled him to come in and have it removed at the end of September. He was very excited to have his expander taken off. About 10 seconds later, the whole expander just snapped in two pieces. I called the orthodontist in the morning, and I had to work a trip to his office into my crazy day of packing and getting the car and kids ready to leave on a trip. They took off his expander and gave him a removeable retainer to get him through until we got back from our trip. Joel kept laughing about what a coincidence it was that as soon as he was talking about getting his expander off it broke and he had to have it removed.

We had another coincidence that day. As I said, I had a crazy, busy day of getting things done and ready to leave at 1:00 for our drive to Canada. I decided that as I had filled up the car with gas the night before, and had driven only about 30 miles that day, I didn't have time to top off the gas tank before we headed out. I knew that we had more than enough gas to make it to at least Spokane.

Well, I guess I didn't take into account a van loaded with 9 people and their luggage might use more gas than a 1/2 full van shuttling kids around. Or that when it is 100 degrees outside perhaps the air conditioner might suck some of the gas mileage away. Whatever. My gas light went on about 30 miles outside of Spokane. I knew that we had plenty of gas to make it, and there was nowhere to fill up anyway. Typically, in the 4 years I have been driving this van, the gas light means I have about 3 gallons left, or at least 75 miles on the freeway. Well, this time it meant I had 20 miles left. The coincidence happened though as Mark said, "How is your the gas gauge looking?" I said, "Well, the gas light went on just a little while ago, but I think we are fine."

We weren't fine. At that exact moment, the engine cut out. We coasted to a stop 10 miles outside of Spokane. What are the odds? So 9 of us sat in a hot car watching a porcupine on the side of the road while we waited for roadside assistance to bring us some gas.

Which is a whole other story. Which leads me to my next topic: The problem with outsourcing.

I have used our roadside assistance several times without a problem. The people are usually friendly, and help arrives in a reasonable amount of time. But this day I got a guy in India. I like India--I want to go there desperately. I love Indian food. I love the people from India. But when I get a customer service person from India, I know I'm in trouble. Hello, Trouble.

This guy kept asking me for my exact position so that he could call someone to help us.

Me: "I'm 10 miles west of Spokane, Washington on eastbound I-90. I can see milepost (whatever # it was) about 30 feet ahead of me."
Guy: "That doesn't help me, ma'am. I need to know your exact address or I cannot help you."
Me: "I'm not at an address. I'm on eastbound I-90 at this exact milepost. There is a freeway entrance 1/4 mile behind me."
Guy: "You must tell me which city you are in or I cannot send anyone to help you."
Me: "I'm not in a city. I'm trying to get to Spokane, but we ran out of gas 10 miles too soon. I'm in the middle of a freeway--I'm not in a city."
Guy: "Well, we cannot send anyone to help you if we do not know exactly where you are."
Me: "I do not have my GPS to give you my exact coordinates. I promise you that if you call any car service near Spokane and tell them I am on I-90 at this particular mile post, they will be able to find me."
Guy: "No. I must have an exact address."
Me: "I know that our policy covers us anywhere--including freeways. How many people run out of gas in their driveway?"
Guy: "I will put you on hold while I find a map."

10 minutes later and Mark on the phone this time. Same story--he cannot help us because we don't have an address. He went to find a map. Clearly, he didn't even know what I-90 meant or what a freeway was, or that Spokane, Washington was a city 10 miles to the east of us.

I decided to hang up and try my luck with someone else answering the phone. This time it was a very nice gal from the south who answered. She took my location--the same eastbound I-90 at milepost whatever location--and told me someone would be there within a half hour. Sure enough, 30 minutes later, the gas guy pulled up behind us. He was laughing, because last week he had brought someone else gas at the very same spot.