By Dorothea Shefer-Vanson
MEVASSERET ZION, Israel — Like so many other ideas, it seemed clever at the time. We were due to be away from Israel for a little more than a month, the car we had driven for the past two years was beginning to show signs of wear and tear, mainly due to my own imperfect skill at parking, and the opportunity arose to acquire a new car from the same company by doing what’s known as a ‘trade-in,’ whereby the price difference between the two vehicles is paid in installments.
The company concerned was only too happy to oblige. We are veteran customers and are generally happy with the vehicles we buy from them. The choices we were offered varied between a sleek, modern version of our previous car and a rather ordinary-looking vehicle with the kinds of bells and whistles that appeal to the gadget-loving male of the species. My other half’s (OH) preference was for the latter, and so that was the one we got.
Before leaving on holiday, we handed in our current car and were told that the ship bringing the fresh batch of vehicles would be reaching Israel in our absence, the procedure for registering the change in ownership would be undertaken by the company, and for that purpose we were told to leave our ID cards there. This we did willingly, glad to be relieved of at least one bureaucratic headache.
While we were away on vacation, we received regular updates as to the location and progress of our new car, and sure enough, later on the same day that our plane landed in Israel at 5 a.m. we were able to take a taxi to the sales office and collect the shining new car. The company representative sat with us for half an hour and ran through all the features and facets of the vehicle, which is as sophisticated and computerized as they come. My OH is far more technically-minded than I am, and so I relied on him to be able to absorb and remember all the new information with which we were bombarded.
After a few minutes of anxiety and confusion, occasioning a repeat of the information by the unfortunate company representative, we managed to maneuver out of the car park and make our way home in our magnificent new vehicle. Minor irritants such as how to get the radio or air-conditioning to work were eventually overcome, and we began to feel comfortable with the new car. Inside it was a card welcoming us and giving us a number to call any time, day or night, should we need help of any kind.
After asking for our ID cards, we were told that they could not be found in the company’s sales office, or in any of the other offices around Israel. We were sent a form acknowledging what had happened, which we were able to show to the Ministry of the Interior when we went there to request new ID cards. We went to the Ministry of the Interior’s office, waited in the queue and were eventually seen by one of the officials, who did not seem at all surprised upon hearing what had happened. Hopefully our new ID cards will arrive by registered post sometime soon.
On the way home from the Ministry we encountered a new problem with the radio, and so we called the number on the card promising to provide help at any time. It took a long time for them to pick up, and when a young lady finally answered she asked us first for our registration number (which we didn’t remember) then for a photo of our dashboard. How is one supposed to take a photo of one’s dashboard while driving? And why didn’t she know what kind of dashboard this particular car had? After all, what was she doing there? We stopped the call as we had managed to reach home, and eventually solved the problem ourselves.
The next day a beautiful orchid was delivered to our house, together with a card from the company, once again promising to provide assistance at anytime, anywhere.
I don’t think I’ll be calling them any time soon.
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Dorothea Shefer-Vanson is an author and freelance writer based in the Jerusalem suburb of Mevasseret Zion.