Part one of what a joke

To Whom It Clearly Does *Not* Concern,

Let me begin by congratulating you — because *wow*, you’ve outdone yourselves in redefining what pathetic, disrespectful, and utterly useless customer service looks like. I am writing this, to not only just express my fury but deep disgust, by the absolute joke that is your service department at Lindsay Saker Alberton.

To set the scene (since it’s clear you don’t keep track of anything yourselves), I booked my car in for a **general service** on Monday, 26 May 2025. Simple enough, right? But of course, in true VW dealership fashion, what should be a basic routine turned into a showcase of incompetence and blatant disregard.

Upon arrival, the usual scripted smiles and robotic clipboard tapping — because God forbid anyone actually gives a damn. I’ve been a **loyal VW customer**, by the way (not that loyalty means anything to your operation). You’re welcome to go dig through my service history if that concept even still exists in your world. The vehicle was inspected for every possible scratch and smudge — like clockwork — and I signed off because, unlike your team, *I actually know the condition of my car*.

Fast forward to the barrage of calls — standard procedure when your car isn’t on a service plan, because that’s the only time you people care to be thorough: when there’s money to be made. I approved what was necessary — a rear tail light (which I *already* knew about) a few other areas and a fender indicator bulb I wasn’t aware of.

Now let me repeat myself, since repetition seems to be the only language you understand: **THIS WAS A GENERAL SERVICE**. I DIDN’T DROP THE CAR OFF WITH ISSUES. I DIDN’T REPORT PROBLEMS. I DIDN’T ASK FOR A SURPRISE LIGHT TO SHOW ON MY DASH.

Upon collection — after paying your laughably overpriced invoice and throwing away your half-assed packaging you couldn’t be bothered to remove from the inside of my vehicle — I drove off. By **the very same evening**, the **EPC warning light** appeared. A warning light. On a car that had just left your service bay.

Let’s take a breath here. Because this is where I reached *livid*. Never in all my years of owning this vehicle — serviced exclusively at VW dealerships, mind you — have I seen a warning light. Suddenly, post-service, one magically appears? Shocking. Or not, considering the work ethic (or lack thereof) on display.

Tuesday, 27 May: I *inconvenience myself*, to bring the car back. Because clearly the job wasn't done right the first time. I’m greeted with the same hollow smiles and empty promises. After a wait, I’m told the fault is “cleared” and “nothing to worry about.” Right. Because clearing a warning light magically fixes the underlying issue — this is the level of genius I’m dealing with.

Driving off again, running late for work thanks to your *completely unnecessary* circus act, I hear a vibration on the left side of the vehicle. Great. A new bonus feature. Upon arrival at work, I inspect the area. And there it is — the **left fender indicator light**, the same one YOU worked on to replace the bulb on, now sticking out like a child’s art project. Oh, and the panel? DAMAGED. Like a toddler with a *****driver had a go at it. Absolutely enraging.

I proceeded to call the dealership. I *calm myself down* because unlike your staff, I know how to treat people with basic human decency. I speak to the service manager and express my **absolute fury** at the negligence and sheer **disrespect** shown to my vehicle.

Wednesday, 28 May: I’m back. Again. Because apparently *it’s my job* to QA your mechanics' work. The new damage is acknowledged — because the original form I signed had no such marks. No surprise. I’m told they’ll “sort it out” — probably a slap on the wrist and a “please try not to ***** it up next time” kind of talk to the team. Let me be clear: I’m not asking for heads to roll. But this is **about RESPECT**, something your entire department seems incapable of grasping.

So now the car is to be booked in — again — and for the vehicle to be dropped off the following monday to have the now child art work to be fixed for *your* mistake. I get on with my day, thinking this ordeal is nearing its end. **Wrong. Again.**

Wednesday evening, **EPC light is back**. You seriously can’t make this up.

I try calling. Of course, no one answers. Because why be available when your customer is once again dealing with the *consequences of your incompetence*?

Thursday morning: I arrive, AGAIN, at your dealership. The service agent already has the “oh no, not this again” look on his face — maybe because he knows deep down this is an embarrassment. I’m given a courtesy car. Let’s talk about that.

First of all, the tank is **bone dry**, and you generously give me R200 to drive a vehicle with *9km on the clock*. Fresh off the truck, and absolutely useless. So not only do I have to repeatedly inconvenience myself to fix your *****-ups, but now I’m paying for the privilege. WOW.

Let’s skip to today: **Thursday, 5 June**. I’ve had **one missed call** (that I returned, only to be told the service agent is “busy”) and **zero updates** since then. But guess what you *do* manage to send? A service review SMS asking me to rate the *wonderful experience* of driving a car I DON’T EVEN HAVE.

The lack of care is staggering. I don’t care what kind of internal escalation this needs, but I expect compensation — for my time, fuel, lack of my personal vehicle, and the fact that your courtesy car is a running-in test unit that you’ll soon be selling for full price.

Here’s a thought — either **sort this out with actual urgency and compensate me with a complete reimbur*****t for STARTERS!!! **, or here is a sweeter deal for me. Keep my car and send me the **ownership documents for the courtesy vehicle**. At this point, it's probably the only thing you're capable of delivering without *****ing up.

Enough of the sugar-coating. I’ve had it. Either act like professionals or don’t expect customers like me to come back — not now, not ever.

**Disgusted doesn't even begin to cover it,**