The Collapse of Values and My Local Car Dealership

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My car was recalled. I’m sitting in the local Toyota dealership getting it fixed. No big deal here. I don’t mind bringing my car in. I was feeling fine before I came in. But not now. Here's why:

What Should Have Happened

1. I see you, Sir. I’ll be with you in a moment.
2. Hello, I’m Joe Sales Manager. What can I do for you?
3. Just drive your car to the front and the garage door will open. Then just drive in.
4. So, what can I do for you today?
5. Have a seat over here and I’ll process your papers.

What Actually Happened

1. The garage door had a sign instructing customers to drive in. I didn’t know whether this meant before or after checking in.
2. I entered the garage to see a long line of desks. Four clerks were there. None were servicing people.
3. I waited for five minutes. No one looked at me. They must have seen me, of course, because you have to make an effort to not see someone standing in front of you.
4. I left the garage part of the dealership, thinking that perhaps I was in the wrong place.
5. No, I was in the right place. I returned to the garage and walked up to the Assistant Service Manager. He was engrossed in his work. I waited for him to acknowledge me. He stared into his screen and said, “I’m listening."
6. I told him that I was there for service. He instructed me to pull into the garage.
7. I pulled in, got out of the car, and waited. None of the four professional-looking workers in shirts and ties looked at me.
8. Someone finally acknowledged me. He said, “Sir, would you shut off your car so that the garage does not get filled with exhaust?” I shut the car off.
9. I waited. Then the assistant manager came over and asked, “Are your keys in the car?” I said “yes," and he directed me to Desk # 5.
10. He processed my request. He asked me for my automobile identification number. I gave him an copy of my inspection receipt. He asked me for my phone number. I told him. Without asking to see if it was okay, he wrote the number down on my inspection receipt so that he could remember it as he entered it into the computer.
11. He then called over someone who appeared to be a mechanic. He gave him some quick instructions, and then, directing his attention to the worker and not me, said, “I need you to pick up another car by yesterday," and then proceeded to give the individual further instructions about how to do so.

Any one of these micro-indignities is forgivable. As a whole, they suggest a systemic issue—a problem in the culture of this particular automobile dealership.

It is possible that I was (and am) “out of the loop." I haven’t been to a dealership to have my car fixed in a long time. (I go to Larry at Magic Muffler, who treats me quite well.) But even if I'm out of the loop, it doesn't matter.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out what was going on.

The dealership in question is a well-oiled machine. It had an established series of efficient routines designed to get the job done fast and efficiently. Everyone in the dealership knew what their jobs were, and they each did their individual jobs quite well. What could possibly be wrong with this?

The problem, of course, is that the dealership is a machine and not a community. A machine is merely a combination of parts, each part doing its own thing without reference to the others. Each of the workers in the dealership functioned as but a cog in the machine. Each did his and her own prescribed job without really caring about the mission as a whole—namely, to provide service to their customers.

But in order for workers to be true to their mission, they must know what that mission is, care about it, and be empowered to act on that mission. This would require each worker to go beyond his or her individual mechanized function. It would require that each worker become a person rather than a cog. It would require that the workers treat each other as persons who are each deserving of care and respect. And of course, it would require that each worker treat the customer with care and respect. And let it also be known that it would also require the customer to be a person as well—someone who treats the service provider with care and respect.

These, of course, are issues of human values. Did the people at the dealership have values? Yes, they did. But their values were of the mechanistic variety: They valued getting their specific jobs done, efficiency, doing as they were told, making sure that the routines were followed. They did not operate as persons with the human values of care, respect and service.

To what extent are the values of this dealership the values of our nation? And, if so, just what should we do about it?