RTFM

I have always seen business trips as golden opportunities. They are a chance to see different parts of the country, or world if you are lucky, and do so for free. They allow for new experiences, from things that others would find commonplace to the extraordinary, and all on the company dime, no less.

Last year, I was flown out to a small town just outside of Texas, and for the first time in my life, had an opportunity to rent a car. Now to others, this might not seem all that impressive, but considering I was not yet 25, and I had not one clue how to get from Dallas-Fort Worth Airport to Waxahachie, TX, this was to be a grand adventure for me.

I knew the company reserved some type of compact car for me at the rental agency, but like anything else, I tried to slither myself into something better.

“Good afternoon sir.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Can I see your ID, sir?”

I handed him my ID and swiveled my head back and forth a few times, just getting a feel for what was going on around me. The agent looked down and started typing away at his computer.

“Well sir, it seems that we have you down for either an Oldsmobile Alero or a Ford Focus.”

“Excuse me?!” I tried like hell to sound surprised; unfortunately, I am nowhere near as good as an actor as I am a cook or a singer.

“Well sir, whoever made your reservations specifically stated that you were to get a compact car.”

“I was specifically told that I was to get a Mustang.”

I can’t help it; I never have been able to. I always like to see how far I can take things before people realize that I am bluffing. It is something that has got me into more trouble than is reasonable to explain in this medium.

“Well sir, it says right here that you are only to get a compact car, and those are the choices that we have.”

“Can I speak to your supervisor?”

“Of course you can, sir.”

I must admit, this was quite the stupid mistake on my part. I have the tendency, along with trying to bullshit my way into a better situation, to assume that if I bitch enough, businesses are just going to give me what I want to get me the hell out of their line. Unbeknownst to me, the rental agency had my travel coordinator’s phone number on file.

The agent went into the back and grabbed his supervisor, who promptly picked up the phone and placed a call to my travel coordinator.

“Sir, my supervisor is calling the person who set up your reservations to clear up this mistake; it should only be a couple of minutes.”

I hate it when people call my bluff.

A few minutes later the supervisor comes out of his office with a grin on his face.

“Sir, your travel coordinator said, and I quote, ‘There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that he is to get anything other than a compact unless all you have left are Mustangs.’”

“Is that all she said?”

“She laughed for a while too, and explained that you like to play pranks on people that you work with.”

It’s a good thing that she has a good sense of humor. The supervisor went back to his office snickering, and the agent behind the desk, now with a vindicated smile on his face turns to me and asks me again:

“So what will it be sir, the Alero or the Focus.”

Now embarrassed and admittedly pouting a little, I made the rest of the answers in our conversation as short as possible.

“Whichever one’s the cheapest.”

“Ok sir… would you like a vehicle with or without the built in navigation system?”

On my way out of work the day before, I hastily printed out directions that I obtained from the Internet from destination to destination. However, I neglected to pick the directions up from the printer on my way out of the door.

“With, please.”

I was handed my receipt, along with two booklets. One detailed the basic features of the Oldsmobile Alero. The other pertained to the on-board navigation system equipped on the vehicle. I loaded the rental car, started it up, and did what every technically minded person does when faced with a new gadget. I immediately flung the instruction booklet onto the floorboard of the backseat without so much as cracking it open, preferring the I’ll-figure-it-out-my-damn-self method of training on new technology. It was a mistake I would have the next two hours to regret.

After only a couple minutes of fiddling around with the device, I learned how it worked well enough that I could program a destination into it. I entered the address of a hotel on a list of hotels that my company normally uses to put people up in, and I took off.

Navigating the surface streets was easy enough using the system. A warm and friendly female voice followed an attention-grabbing chime to guide me to my destination. The goal of the system was obviously to feed me audio clues, rather than visual, so that I would be more inclined to keep my eyes on the road.

“(BING!) Right turn in 100 feet…”

I got onto the freeway and accelerated, I traveled only about three quarters of a mile before I reached my first exit. It was a freeway junction just outside of DFW airport.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

Here is where I had my first trouble. The junction I was about to enter had one exit that branched off into two exits, one northbound, one southbound. I had a feeling I was going the wrong way, but it wasn’t justified until I glanced down and got a look at the GPS system on the dash.

I pulled off of the freeway to turn around when the voice came up again. I stopped in a McDonald’s parking lot to let the system regain its bearings.

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

With the new route in front of me, I resumed my travels. I passed by a junior high school that was just letting out for the day. As I slowed down to let the kids cross the street, I received a handful of odd looks from students, faculty, and parents alike. It took me a second to realize that if I saw a Mexican driving in my neighborhood, yelling obscenities and flipping off his dashboard, I would be a little worried too.

I started heading towards DFW again, without a clue as to my whereabouts, only knowing that I was in Dallas. Following my co-pilot a little less blindly than before, I started to pay more attention to the display than the voice. I glanced up for a couple of seconds to see where I was driving, as not to kill myself, and the voice popped up again:

“(BING!) U-turn in 50 feet…”

At this time I was in the right lane, going 60 miles an hour. I slammed on the brakes, causing the driver behind me to follow suit. I traveled across three lanes of traffic, missed causing an inadvertent PIT maneuver by only mere inches, and barely made the u-turn without getting killed or killing the people around me.

I made it back onto the freeway, southbound, the way I was supposed to be going. I was a little shaken up, and glad that a cop didn’t see the General Lee impersonation my rental car just pulled off. After a couple of minutes I finally settled down, it would be some time before I had another exit to take.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

I saw a billboard for Six Flags over Texas, and I took a moment to think about what I was going to do with all of the free time I was going to have over the next three days. I had never been to Dallas before, and I started thinking about taking a day to see the sights, and at least one day for the amusement park. It had been forever since I had been on a roller coaster and it sounded like a good time-

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

Due to my daydreaming session, I neglected the fact that I was driving and missed the turn. I pulled off again, turned around and started to head in the right direction. Now completely frustrated, I kept my speed down to 45 mph, as not to miss any more exits. When realizing that the posted limit was 55 and the observed limit was somewhere in the 80’s, I lowered my right foot just a little more.

Fifteen miles of driving and I was about to hit another junction. This time I was prepared, I was paying attention, I knew exactly what exit I was supposed to take and how far away it was.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

Another junction, another exit.

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

Another wrong turn. I took exit A instead of exit B, leading me northbound instead of southbound, again. I cocked my arm back to knock the living hell out of the navigation system. I realized that this was a fight that my fist would most definitely lose, and I was sure as hell not going to be able to get around without the stupid thing.

At this point, it was almost as if the system was starting to get frustrated with me. I could sense it in the now not-so-friendly female voice that followed the chime.

“(BING!) Left turn in 100 feet, asshole…”

It was like driving with a nagging girlfriend. Granted, it may have been all in my head, but I did hear it nonetheless.

Now back on course, it was a straight shot of 20 miles or so until I reached my hotel. I spent a good 15 out of those 20 minutes en route trying to find a radio station that played something that wasn’t country or in Spanish, not being a huge fan of the music of my people. Relieved, I finally arrived at my destination.

I eagerly jumped out of the car, wanting to get a small nap before I had to be at a sister site of ours for training. I stretched for a couple of minutes, popped every joint in my body, and walked inside to check in to my temporary home.

“Hi, I have reservations.”

“Can I see your ID sir?”

Again I hand a clerk my ID, but this time I wasn’t expecting the response I received.

“Uh, sir… We don’t have a reservation for you here…”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no record of you having a room with us this week.”

“I’m with-“

“I know who you are with sir, but there’s no reservation for you.”

At a loss for what to do next, I double checked my itinerary and confirmed what I was afraid of. As it turns out, the list of hotels that my company uses for business has more than one hotel on it. The hotel that I programmed into the GPS system wasn’t the one listed on my itinerary. I was at least 5 miles away from my hotel, and only 2 ½ hours away from my training.

After finally getting to the right hotel, getting checked in and in my room, I had a chance to take a look at my watch. I had managed to make a simple drive of just over an hour last just under two. As I laid down on the bed to relax for a few minutes, I thought about something I tell people about their computers often.

“When in doubt, read the fucking manual!”