Not too long ago, running that lonely stretch of Highway 95 between Quartzsite and Yuma, Arizona, that was my experience. I'd just gotten the rig back from a mechanic who'd worked on the suspension system, and I was running home to Quartzsite, late for supper. The street-side forward tire, not more than two or three years old, decided it was time to head off to the great "tire beyond."
We've had Good Sam service for a number of years. We've had a few adventures that required phoning in and waiting for a service guy. Sometimes we waited in a parking lot; once beside a very scary stretch of Utah's Interstate 15 with traffic blasting past us like astronauts hell-bent for the moon. But this experience left me wondering: Is there something better?
I can understand that the outfit will have a central dispatch center somewhere. Texas isn't as far from Arizona as say, New York City, but as far as "local knowledge," the dispatcher may as well have been on the moon. It took nearly a half-hour of concerted effort to help the dispatcher find where we were. At first she had us spotted somewhere in California, then later, I "was" way north of where I really was. Happily, I had a GPS that would display my geographic coordinates, which I rattled off to her. "Oh, my system has located you now," she told me. Future reference: Know how to get your own GPS to give coordinates; it could save you a lot of frustration.
Now knowing where I and the broke down rig are located is one thing; it's quite another to find the nearest service provider. My dispatcher cheerfully told me she'd get back to me shortly to let me know who was coming, and when to expect them. Nearly an hour later, I called Good Sam back. Point number two: Terminology. When you get the cheerful soul on the phone, after the first call, immediately tell them: "This is a re-call," or you can expect to go through a long ritual of giving all the same information you already gave.
The second fellow on the line seemed a bit put-out that I had yet to hear back. He put me on protracted hold. Now mind you, I hadn't planned on being stranded beside the road – whoever does? So of course, I hadn't brought a charge cable for my cell phone. Worried that I might run out of battery before a rescue arrived, I finally hung up after 10 minutes on hold. Happily, the second dispatcher did eventually call me back. His sad story: My original dispatcher was still working the phones, and she'd asked for "a different database," of providers to call. A supervisor soon got involved.
An hour-and-a-half after my initial phone-in, I got the happy news: They'd called 21 different service providers, and the first 20 turned down the job. Good news: Number 21 would accept the job. Bad news: It could be a three-hour wait before they arrived. Given the name of the provider and their phone number, I settled in to watch the sunset. Worried, however, because it appeared that my trailer tail lights weren't working. I called for reinforcements, and my dearest one arrived with a car to provide lights, and hamburgers and french fries to provide nourishment.
After a long wait I dialed up the service provider. He was happy that I had – because there was some confusion as to exactly where I was. Somehow – despite the dispatcher having our geographic coordinates and the fact that their "system has located you" – the tow guy figured I was somehow way north of reality. And that three-hour estimate? "No, we told them it might be four hours before we can get to you – I'm swamped at the shop and I'm having to call in backup."
After one hamburger, numerous french fries, and several hands of pinochle, the service guy arrived. I won't go into detail about how the spare tire rim froze up on the wheel, so that the poor guy had to remove the tire and remount it on a different rim, but I will tell you that the gentleman could tell me in years, months, and days how long it was until his retirement.
I'm happy we finally got away from that lonesome spot beside the highway. But it left me with a lot of questions. First, it seems there has to be a better way to "find" stranded motorists. This isn't the first time we've had to hand-hold road service dispatchers. Second, why is it that it took 21 phone calls to find a cooperative road service provider?
We decided to question Good Sam about the matter. It took several days to get the answers, but to his credit, Frank Stofa, Good Sam's Senior Program Coordinator for Roadside Assistance and TravelAssist, went the extra mile to dig up the "what happened," with our peculiar case. Since the outfit records all calls to the dispatch center, Stofa took the time to listen to those calls, review the notes from the dispatch center, and finally render a judgment.
Stofa describes the experience as "a first magnitude of service errors," that represent perhaps a quarter of one percent of all the calls that the organization handles. In our case, four dispatchers (instead of the typical one) handled my case. Among them there were poor communications and a failure to observe service rules. Net result: I got the dirty end of the stick. He was quick to point out this is NOT the way Good Sam typically handles service calls, where the goal is to see to it that a stranded member's problem is turned around in 30 to 90 minutes.
How does Good Sam's road assistance dispatch service operate? Your call is always handled domestically – never by an operator in, say, Bangladesh. Once your scene is located (having the precise geographic coordinates from your GPS system really helps), the dispatcher works a map system, laid out in concentric circles. Contracted providers in that first circle are called; if none can help, the next circle of contracted providers is called, and so on, until three concentric circles around your scene are worked. Still no providers? It's at that point that the organization starts calling "non-contracted" providers to bail you out. In our case, none of the contracted providers would come. Stofa was at a loss to explain why none of the first 20 providers would come change a tire. He pointed out that when bad weather or other situations tie up a lot of providers at once, you'll typically wait longer for service.
On behalf of the road service group, Frank Stofa seemed genuinely embarrassed by the poor performance on our call. To smooth the way, he offered to upgrade my basic membership to the "Platinum Plus" grade (instead of taking your rig to the nearest "capable and willing repair facility," you can choose any spot within 100 miles), and tossed in a free membership to the club's medical assistance program.
How about you? Has your road service company lived up to your expectations? Drop us a line, Russ at sign rvtravel.com.