“What are you doing?”
I looked up, unsure about what my wife was asking. It was a fair question. I had been doing so much. For the past three days I had dedicated myself to penetrating the Gordian Knot that was Hertz Car Rental’s customer support. As a “Gold Member,” I expected decent service but was not getting it. I did not need roadside assistance, that would have been straightforward. It was a “clerical issue” I was trying to remedy.
I had rented a car three days earlier, but the paperwork did not match the reality. Gold Members get to pick the car they want. At the rental desk, an employee blithely told me to take any of them in the first row. At the check out, the attendant struggled. He kept referring to the car I’d picked as a “licensee vehicle” (a car owned by an independent local operator). His Wi-Fi wasn’t working and we were held up for 15 minutes with a growing line of cars behind us before he finally handed some printouts through the window and lifted the gate.
At my first rest stop, I checked the rental agreement. It stated that I had rented a 2026 Nissan Altima, but I was not driving a 2026 Nissan Altima. I was not in possession of a 2026 Nissan Altima; my horoscope had no mention of a Nissan Altima. I was driving a black Hyundai Sonata. That’s the car I’d driven off the lot.
I wanted to correct this error so that the car I was driving was the car I was legally supposed to drive. This was a desire I was confident that I shared with Hertz Car Rental. I needed customer assistance but unfortunately there was a difference of opinion between me and the company.
What I meant by “customer assistance” was to speak to a human being employed by Hertz.
What Hertz meant by “customer assistance” was for me to never speak to a human being employed by Hertz.
First, I tried online. Chatbots did not help. I was unable to explain the nuance of my situation. I called the general support line and went around in circles. I called the regional branch, whose system led to the promise of transferring to an operator, and then hung up. I tried calling the line for “new rentals,” believing, wrongly, that I had a better chance of getting a real person if they thought they’d get new money from me. Once, after being on hold for 24 minutes, I did reach a person and after describing my clerical issue was told there was nothing they could do and they would not make a record of my call.
“I am putting on my shoes,” I replied.
“Why?” my wife asked.
It was a fair question.
Not to be answered with a snarky “Because I don’t want to wear them on my head.”
I was taking off a pair of form-fitting Sperry Flow Slide Sandals and putting on my Asics tennis shoes.
“I don’t like to drive in bad footwear,” I answered. “I don’t drive in improper footwear. I don’t like it when people drive in flip-flops.”
My wife’s eyes registered a stark alarm; it was the distinct variety of distress spouses experience when they realize a topic has come up that might lead their beloved to engage in one of their “go to” tirades. For instance, flip-flops and driving.
“Oh yes … of course.” There was silence as she prayed the subject would disappear.
“I hate it when people drive wearing flip-flops,” I began. “It’s stupid and dangerous. Flip-flops can slide off and get stuck under the pedals. They can cause unintended acceleration. Flip-flops are wider and they can hit both pedals at the same time. It’s pointless. People wearing flip-flops routinely get in accidents.”
Later, I wanted to prove to myself that I was right and did some research. In Denver last year, a woman wearing flip-flops drove her car into a Popeyes Louisiana Chicken after her foot got stuck on the accelerator. In Missouri, a 71-year-old flip-flip-wearing woman crashed her 2003 Corvette into a building. In Fresno, Calif., a flip-flop got stuck under a pedal and caused a car to crash into a tree.
“It’s a terrible habit. Lazy,” I said to my wife as I began to address an imaginary flip-flop-wearing driver. “No one is impressed. No one is thinking how cool and relaxed you are because you are driving in flip-flops. How hard is it to put on a pair of shoes. It’s pathetic. Put your shoes on.”
“You should do a column on driving in high heels,” my wife offered, knowing that the mere mention of doing research would halt me in my tracks.
“I’m going to try Hertz again.”
I poured a cup of coffee, settled into a chair and summoned as much positivity as I could muster. I would wait, on hold, forever if that’s what it took, with a smile on my face. I would use the power of positive thinking to get a human being.
This time it only took 11 minutes. I reached a human being and explained my issue. The customer service representative made a record and assured me there would be no problem dropping it off. She apologized that I did not get the car I’d reserved. I told her I didn’t have a problem with the car, I just wanted to make sure all the facts were in order.
“That’s all sorted,” I told my wife, after I got off the call. “But I still wonder about showing up with one car and them saying where is the Nissan Altima you rented?”
“Well,” my wife said. “At least we know you won’t be wearing flip-flops.”