I recently locked my keys in my car in the Snowmass Intercept Lot right before heading up to bike up Cozyline. Just like Ira Glass, I’m hopelessly optimistic. Everything was going to work out fine. I came to ride and that was what I was going to do. But even with all the optimism, I sensed that my afternoon may not go so smoothly when I got back down to deal. Nevertheless, I spun up to ride through the luminescent Lupine. The car could wait.
After the ride, I situated myself on a curb in the shade, taking off my biking shoes and shedding as many layers as possible in the hot parking lot. I began my calls. First to the police stations. Apparently, the Aspen Police don’t deem locking yourself out of your car worthy of saving, and therefore do not carry lockout tools. The Snowmass Police said that I was in Pitkin County jurisdiction and they couldn’t help me.
Next, I called Shaun’s Towing and was directed to a call center that said they needed my credit card information before putting in the order. I knew Shaun’s Towing had the monopoly in town but wondered when it got so big that they needed to outsource. I hung up and tried other locksmiths in the valley, landing The Snowmass Village Locksmith. But Locksmith Joe was unavailable and so I called the call center back with a creeping suspicion that I was heading into troubled waters.
The woman on the other end of the line kept apologizing. “Sorry, I have a cold,” she sniffled and giggled. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you right when you said your name,” she said when she sent the payment link for $200 to “Billion Livingston.” “I’m so embarrassed,” she giggled as I did my best to be compassionate by telling her I found it funny.
And then a bit of salt was shaken onto the wound. A man with a thick accent called back demanding a physical address, which I kept giving what I was reading on Google Maps, but he became edgy and impatient stating it wasn’t a real address. Where was the truck coming from any way that they didn’t know the Snowmass Intercept Lot? Then another call 15 minutes later, and what felt like ten degrees hotter. Edgy guy informed me that the driver had gotten into an accident and they were sending another driver that would cost an additional $80, and take two more hours. Dogggg! “Cancel the order,” I demanded. I had an event to get to. I’d deal with my car the next day. “That will cost you another $80,” he said … edgily. The stakes were getting higher, bringing back traumatic memories of breaking down into sobs with Comcast after just having moved out of our beloved home. My frustration was bubbling as was the temperature of the asphalt. I took off in a friend’s car and once again decided to deal with it later.
The next day I called Locksmith Joe and explained my predicament, letting him know that I never got my car unlocked. I shared my disdain for businesses who outsource. Joe came to my rescue, on a Sunday, offering a well received discount for all I had been through. Not only did he save me from my predicament, but he reminded me that humanity does indeed still exist. He advised me to go into the office of Shaun’s Towing on Monday and dispute the charges, which I did, discovering that their 800 number had been hacked on Google. They were NEVER coming to unlock my car, and like a jilted lover I backtracked the conversation wondering why they gave me such a hard time with the address when they were never coming to unlock my car in the first place. I also questioned why Shaun’s Towing has not put out an announcement anywhere about this hack and I wonder how many others have also paid for services they never received.
As for Locksmith Joe? His real name is Joe Hernandez, and he is quite the Renaissance man, with many hilarious stories up his sleeve about saving people in strange places, like the woman who dropped her keys in the port o let at Maroon Bells stating firmly that she intended to never touch those keys again. Joe sent me his poetic musings revolving around his stunning astral photography
Living in this valley certainly has its quirks, but I’ll take it over city living all day, every day. If this happened anywhere else I’d be certainly screwed. And this is why I started writing again, to document the stories from an optimist and to share the quirky and talented people who make my life infinitely more interesting.
Lesson learned? Trust your instincts, don’t lock yourself in your car, and be discerning when speaking with someone from afar who thinks your name is Billion.
