What’s even more annoying than arriving to pick up a courtesy car without a driving licence? Finding out that, in fact, you had it all along, nestling in the overnight bag THAT YOU HAD OVER YOUR SHOULDER.
courtesy car - wibbler.com
The service assistant was very helpful as I handed over my car keys.
I’d left work 2 hours early and driven 60 miles back from Head Office to get to the garage before they all went home, and my poor car was tested to the limit as I raced for Stag Hill Motors. I smiled as I got there just in the nick of time.
“I’ve come to collect my courtesy car”, I explained. He duly filled out all the various forms, ticking every conceivable box. Finally, he looked up, and said, “Do you have your driving licence, sir?”
I find that even at the grand old age of 24 I’m still learning about life’s little foibles. It was my first time getting a courtesy car. Of course I didn’t have my driving licence – I never carry it around. If my car was ever broken into, the thief would have access to all sorts of things with the licence. And anyway, the same garage only sold the car to me a mere 5 months ago – isn’t it obvious I have a licence?
As these thoughts turned in my head, the assistant again asked the question. “No, I don’t,” I replied, “shouldn’t you have told me I needed it?” The young bloke behind the counter reeled. “Well, sir…” “I’ve just driven several hundreds of miles to get here,” I exaggerated. The man, obviously tuning into my unpleasant riposte, busily searched through files. “Well, the best I can do is next Thursday.”
I gave in to the inevitably of it all, stomped off and drove home especially fast, just for the hell of it.