For those just joining us, I am naming the recipients of a special award (created by moi) called The Skunk Award…”For customer service that truly stinks.”  Honorable Mention went to American Airlines, and you can read all about that here.

Moving along.  Our First Runner-Up is (drumroll):  The Chambers Agency of Highlands, NC.  Here’s the story:

During the summer, I began to daydream about cool mountain air and crisp fall foliage as a means of surviving the delirium brought on by the oppressive south Alabama heat.  So I began to plan a fall break adventure to Highlands, NC.  Highlands is an upscale, small resort town in the Blue Ridge Mountains known for its jaw-dropping scenery, great shopping, and cool temperatures.

I spent a considerable amount of time combing the internet for a rental cabin or home that would accomodate our family of four plus my mom and dad, who were joining us.  I finally zeroed in on a small 3 bedroom, two bath home with a beautiful stone fireplace and newly remodeled kitchen.  Highlands is a pricey market, but I felt like a had found a good deal.

My parents arrived at the cabin first, and they chose one of the downstairs bedrooms.  Now let me stop here and say that most of the online photos of the home were of the top floor, and there was a reason for that.  The upper floor was much nicer.  The two downstairs bedrooms and bath had a definite dank, “basementy” feel.  But, you know, nothing we couldn’t live with.

Then my mother went to turn back the bed, and found this:

IMG_0855

Sweet dreams...

Now, when one looked at the stained ceiling tiles just above the bed, it became obvious that the horrific sheets were the result of a prior leak.  Unpleasant.  But, you know, nothing we couldn’t get past…Mom just washed the linens and we went on about our business.

The next day, my parents reported clouds of some type of swarming insect (termites, maybe?) in the downstairs bath.  They dutifully found some Raid and killed the pests, then swept up the carcasses.  Truly unpleasant.  But, you know, nothing we couldn’t…oh give me a break–enough is enough.  This is not what we paid for.  I don’t need luxury, but I do need clean.  And if I need clean, my parents are certifiable germaphobes.  Clean freaks.  They were being troopers, but I knew this place was making them crazy.

So I went by the agency and spoke with a nice younger woman, explained the trouble we’d had, and asked for one of the owners (a husband/wife duo by the name of Tucker and Jeannie Chambers) to call me to discuss it.  We went on with our sight seeing for the day.  No call.

The next morning I called back and spoke with Tucker Chambers.  I politely explained that while I understood that things can’t always be perfect with every home, we’d had quite a few problems with this one, and was there anything he could do about it?

“No,”  he said.  “I won’t be able to do anything.  You got that property at a discount, and you get what you pay for.”

If I’m lying, I’m dying.

“Well,” I said. “The rental rate (which was $1300 for the week) that was listed on the internet didn’t indicate that it was a discounted rate.  And I would think that cleanliness would be the bare minimum you’d want to offer in all of your properties, at every price point.  Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, sure.  But there were other sheets in the house.  I’m not going to be able to do anything for you.”

Amazing.  I mulled it over for 24 hours. 

Luckily, my mother had NOT WASHED the most offensive pillowcase, and I was able to retrieve it from the downstairs closet.  The next day, a Friday, I waited until around 11:00 am when things would have picked up around the office with weekend travelers coming and going.  I put that skanky pillowcase under my arm and told my husband that I was going to see my friend Tucker Chambers.

The office was bustling, and when they saw me walk in, pillow in tow, the blood ran out of their faces.  Jeannie was standing in the front foyer, and I sweetly asked if Tucker was available.  She glanced into his office, just off the foyer, and said that he had someone in with him.

“I’ll wait,” I smiled.  Everyone stared at the pillow and wondered what was about to happen.  Jeannie shot looks into Tucker’s office that silently indicated that he needed to step on it.

Soon Tucker ambled out of his office along with his guest, and I introduced myself.

“Hi Tucker,” I said with a smile. “I’m Dana McCain–we spoke yesterday?  Remember?  Yeah, well, this is the pillow you want my momma to shut up and sleep on.”  I was smiling as if I had just said ‘I was baking and wanted you to have this pound cake.’

His wife shuddered audibly when I stuck the pillow out in her direction.  Tucker stammered.  Everyone stared as if I had a rattlesnake in my extended hands.

Finally Jeannie ushered me and my show-and-tell item into her office, and apologized for the inconvenience.  And what I said to her was this:

“You know Jeannie, I understand that homes have leaks and that sometimes housekeeping misses something.  I understand that sometimes the bugs show up at a very inopportune moment.  And when I first called your husband, he could have offered me nothing more than a sincere apology for our inconvenience and I would have been satisfied.  He could have thrown a gift certificate for a free cup of coffee at me, and I would have said thanks and been on my way.  But with arrogance like I’ve seldom experienced, he instead condescended to suggest to me that because I hadn’t rented one of your more expensive properties, I was not entitled to a clean place to sleep.  That is offensive.”

“He’s entirely too blunt,” she sighed.  “I ought to know, I have to live with him.  He should never have said those things to you.  Let me see what I can do.”

Jeanne refunded a small portion of our rental fee.  But the damage was done.  Tucker Chambers is a jerk, and I wouldn’t rent a bucket of water from him if I was on fire.

(By the way, has anyone else noticed that while I’m married to a trial lawyer, I’m always the bad cop?  What’s up with that?)

Coming next:  Our SKUNK OF THE YEAR FOR 2009.  You don’t want to miss it…