You’d think when investing (and I use the term loosely) in an Audi of some description, that the aftersales would be just short of sending teenage hookers to your home to service you whilst your car is getting, well, serviced.

Obviously this is not the case.  Having left a number of messages and waiting about 3 hours of my precious life waiting for these people to stop mashing down the doughnuts and start mashing the telephone numbers to connect to my telephone unit at work, I started to lose the will to live.

It’s like, seriously, you burn stupid amounts of money on a ford focus in disguise (while it shouts VER BOTEN DAS TEKNIK [or whatever]) and they can’t really be too bothered with those pesky customer types.  It turns out my work was in vain and I’ve had to start making further arrangements with an alternate Audi dealer, which of course started off in the same manner as the previous one.  It’s also worth mentioning it’s a bit time sensative, so no doubt this might turn in to a “and hilarity ensued” entry by tomorrow afternoon.

Originally posted on monkeybox.vox.com

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