Someone Hit The Lambo Pt. 2

As you already know, someone hit the Lambo.

I was stuck with a... huge-ass bill.
Left with no other choice, I begrudgingly, whipped out my American Express...

Fuck you, just take my money.

And that was it.

I walked away.

My insurance company, who I had partially initiated a claim with, kept calling for days. Just itching, to jack up my rates.

I blocked those assholes.

A few days go by, as I mourn the loss of my $3000... plus tax.

Then it hit me.

Like a fat shit, from those fucking birds. It landed on me, like it does to all my cars. But... Amid the mess of black and white, half eaten worms, and shitty-shit... A light bulb?

American Express, has rental insurance.

It was a dimly lit, shimmer of hope.

...Of escape.

...Of getting my damned money back.

I knew they probably meant rentals, as in, the cheap cars you buy in bulk. Like at Costco.

Cars... Which the rental companies buy, 20 at a time, to rent out to people like you and I.

Not Lamborghini's.

So I go to where I can, conceptualize... A solid answer. The internet!

And it looks like... they had a special type of coverage (which, I did not buy) that covered exotics.

In their list of "exotics", they had: the Corvette, a couple models from Porsche, a few Mercedes and so-on.

Still no super-cars.

Well, guess I can just file a claim. WHY NOT. After all, it's online. If they deny it, oh well.

And I'm not talking to anyone. So I avoid that awkward moment. When someone laughs in your face, so hard: they spit, snort, then start choking.

Especially when these particular words. Float through the air, like a speech bubble. From your well moisturized lips, to the other person's ears.

I.may.have.just.slightly.fucked.up.a.Lambo

Your beautifully crafted sonnet, is funneled into that mushy thing. Until it reaches, the President Of Inter-Body Relations... The Hamster.

...The Hamster, who is driving all those little cogs and gears. Of enlightenment... 

...The one who you ask, should I get fucked up now or later?

Hamster. You decide.

Where was I?

Right... The insurance nonsense.

So I start filling out the form. Put in the company, car, date of accident.

Blah blah blah.

SUBMIT.

As I clicked the blue button, I whispered, "would you please cover it, pretty please? With a (American Express branded) cherry on top?"

Hoping that, some how, in some way... They felt a disturbance in the force, sensing a desperation not seen since...

Well, you get the idea.

...A couple days, go by.

MUST.WAIT.PATIENTLY.

...A few weeks now, since the accident.

I call in to see the status, and if I needed any more paperwork. On the other end of the line, was a lady, who, obviously works at one of those call centers, in India.

The accent was strong.

But things were fine, I just needed to sit and twirl my thumbs, a lot more.
  
...The weeks, slowly grow into months.

I check the online status tracker. Everything is crawling along, nicely.

Maybe they accepted it? Maybe not? By this point, I had the estimated reimbursement, and all those digits on file.

I got a phone call, it was the claims handler.

A shy, timid, sounding fellow. You can tell that this time, we are calling in America.

I must say... The claims department and their customer service, was top notch. At least, for a plebeian like me.

I am so used to having cheese burgers thrown at me, and people giving me the "I hate my life, my job, and especially YOU" attitude, that I was caught a little of guard.

So lonnggg, story short.

American Express reimbursed me, for all of it! They came, and saved the day! And my wallet.

Disclaimer: I do not work, or am I sponsored, by American Express. I did, however; apply for a Platinum card... As a thanks.

A debt of gratitude, is often, dearly paid. - Mortal Kombat

End story.

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