Monday, September 14, 2009

Douchebag Will and The Milf

Oh my god, where do I begin? One of my shop’s best customers also happens to be a stunning Milf. Over the span of a decade or so, she’s purchased no less than 17 bikes from our shop. She’s been there much longer than I. She’s extremely easy on the eyes even though she doesn’t have a hell of a lot going on upstairs, and she shrieks “high maintenance.” Milf can’t go for a ride without coordinating clothing to bike, doing her hair and applying flawless makeup.

Several years ago, Milf met Douchebag Will. There’s a complicated story than involves another couple, a hot tub, the MS 150, a keg of beer and a very intimate evening. I’ve heard the story half a dozen times, and I still can’t keep it straight. I know the evening they met, both were married and legend has it their marriages were but two out of three that were brought to ruin in that beer-hazed hot tub.

Needless to say, Douchebag Will (DW) is also high maintenance. He’s the guy that will be wearing the sleeveless jersey until the highs only make it into the 50s. I noticed with great relish the other day that, without exaggeration, his biceps are twice, twice the size of his calves. This is the guy that goes to the gym 15 hours a week and has no idea how to work his lower body. I’ve only just gotten to know DW, but my hunch is, like his new trophy, he also has little going on upstairs.

There are many truths in the bike industry that are not grasped by the douchebag customer. One of those truths is that the bike industry is technology driven and as such is subject to the same planned obsolescence that guarantees your computer is outdated six months after purchase. The retrogrouches out there can bitch about it until blue in the face, but another truth is that things are much, much better now than they have ever been. Aluminum rims are lighter, stronger, offer better braking and easier truing. Frames are lighter, stiffer, and more comfortable. Integrated shifting systems are easier to use and safer than anything from the past. The automotive analogy here has to do with cars that the shadetree mechanic can no longer work on. True, but I challenge you to get 35 miles per gallon out of your Flathead. Things are better now.

But, I digress. DW is the victim of planned obsolescence, at the hands of the most nefarious villain in that plot, Shimano. He had as original equipment on his bike Deore shifter pods with Tektro brake levers. His right shifter shit the bed (Shimano also being the most nefarious villain in the plot of shifters shitting the bed). I hopped on QBP to find a replacement. Hmmmm. Shimano no longer offers the Deore shifter pod. Well, what shifter pods do they offer? Saint and XTR. I begin compiling a list of options, as none will be perfect and I like to ensure my customers are fully informed before they fuck up a decision.

DW could upgrade to Saint or XTR. He could replace the right shifter and brake lever, ensuring they do not match the left. He could replace both shifters and brake levers, forfeiting years of use from properly functioning components. Or, he could go with a SRAM trigger shifter, the only moderately priced, Shimano compatible trigger shifter.

I offered these options to DW and recommended the latter, stating correctly that it will not be a perfect match, but that the quality of the shifter is comparable and it is the least expensive option. He acquiesced and I got the part on the next order. It was installed quickly and he was given a perfectly functioning bike with apologies for a process seemingly more complicated than expected.

Two weeks later, DW marches into my shop, bronzed biceps rippling in perfect harmony with his salt and pepper locks.

“I’m completely dissatisfied with this shifter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s it doing or not doing?”

“Well, you told me that it would be similar in quality to the old shifter. You didn’t say it would function totally differently.”

This is true to the extent that “totally differently” means you must repurpose your thumb and forefinger and that your right hand will not be acting in perfect parallel with your left. An admitted inconvenience, but I would hardly consider it an insurmountable challenge. People have been running mismatched shifters since there were enough shifters to make an odd couple.

“OK, I hear that and I understand, and I’ll do my best to find an agreeable solution, but this puts us back in the boat where we began. They don’t make that shifter pod anymore.”

We walked into the parts department and I showed him an LX shifter/brake lever combo, from the year when the accent color was navy blue.

“OK, here’s one option. It would require replacing your brake lever as well, and obviously, it wouldn’t match your left shifter and brake lever.”

There was a pause I didn’t quite understand.

“Wait…you mean it would be blue?” This was uttered as if I had suggested he ride naked. Of course, given his vanity, maybe that’s not the best analogy.

“Well, yes, that’s the color of the part.”

“Wait a second. Hon? Hon? You’ve gotta come over here and let me know what you think of this.”

Milf marched her bronzed and Botoxed self into the shop, a decidedly rewarding thing to witness, and bless her vacuous head, rolled her eyes at DW. He decided the mismatched colors were a challenge more insurmountable than the current difference in function.

There ensued a discussion about what was meant by “shifter pod.” We looked in the catalog and I showed him the XTR and Saint shifters, told him they functioned as he wanted a shifter to function and told him the price.

“Wait, they cost how much? I swear I saw this shifter on the Internet for, like, 40 bucks.”

There, he had said the magic word. That glorious network that we can all count on to give douchebags just enough information to be dangerous, time-consuming, and fucking annoying. The Internet.

“Yes, that’s about what I would expect a Deore shifter to cost, but you can see we can no longer order one for you, although it’s probable that a shop out there somewhere has new old stock for sale. If you can find that shifter for sale, of course you’re welcome to purchase it and we’ll take the new shifter back.”

I’m pretty sure the latter sentence caused me physical pain not unlike the gas someone with lactose intolerance might experience after consuming a gallon of milk.

Well, DW was clearly not buying my statement that his exact shifter was unavailable. Maybe I could have done more. I consulted the distributors with whom we do regular orders, but maybe I could have sought out every distributor that might conceivably carry that part. I could have called Shimano to ask if they had any lying around. I could have called a couple shops in the area to see if they had any. And, maybe I would have been motivated to do that had DW conformed to the standards to which I hold reasonable customers. Reasonable customers accept that I am an expert and know what I’m talking about. Reasonable customers are allowed to make decisions based on color only when all other variables are equal. They are allowed to wear sleeveless jerseys only when the temperature tops 85 degrees. The do not do their fucking hair before going on a fucking bike ride. And they sure as SHIT don’t call their trophy wives over to approve component related decisions based on FUCKING COLOR. Since DW is not a reasonable customer, I will not offer him the full extent of my considerable talents. As I said, I have my standards.

No comments:

Post a Comment