Firestone makes me feel like a big wallet with crooked tires

Dear Firestone,

I have to admit I feel a little disappointed about my new tires, and I thought you should know. Earlier this week, I got four Firehawk GTs, which your salesperson explained were good all-weather tires that would perform well in the rain. I am petrified of hydroplaning and a pretty risk-adverse person so I asked him if he would put these tires on his mom's car. He replied that he had these very tires on his Crown Victoria. I was sold.

It took about 45 minutes to install, during which time elation was building. I would soon be driving with the confidence that comes with new tires. Instead, I find myself even more concerned than when I was hurtling down the 280 on what can only be described as bald "tires." Now, when I feel my car sway, I wonder if it's the wind or my new tires, which I've imagined to be wildly askew. And every time my car wanders, so does my mind.

Why are my tires crooked? Because when it came time to pay, your salesperson told me that my car needed a great deal of work before the tires could be aligned. You would be happy to do the work, of course, but it would cost $1,114.46 to be exact. Tie rods. Suspension. Something or other. I said I would think about it.

Now I have four new yet unaligned tires and what feels like a big red target on me.

Perhaps I made myself a target by quickly taking your tire recommendation. I was clearly a customer who knew nothing of tires but was quick to fork out $468.33 once you account for the requisite fees, labor, and hazard protection, which I was falsely under the impression was included. Maybe it was the two car seats in the back of a matronly station wagon that made you suspect I would, like the tires, just quickly agree to buy whatever it was you were selling under the specter of safety.

I wouldn't be surprised if I needed the work. My car is a lemon and acts like it's twice its age. But frankly I don't trust you. As far as I know, I'm just one way for this location to reach its year-on-year goals and perform well within the region. My visit is just one transaction in a comparative, competitive framework that assumes--nay, demands--endless "natural growth" and privileges present performance regardless of how it might effect future returns.

I feel this way because everyone is treating my car like a big endcap to sell me more things. Jiffy Lube wants me to change my air filter and windshield wiper blades. Royal Motors always discovers something deep in the bowels.

My goal is not to cave in, although sometimes I do. This makes servicing my car feel like I'm playing a single hand of Texas Hold'em, and the state of my car at that particular moment is the flop.

In the end, I just can't be sure what I really need. Maybe this confusion is just the "faceless" and dehumanizing nature of modern business today, where you "know" me only if I tell you my phone number and a record appears on your screen. The salesperson and I, however, have no relationship. We have nothing on which to base the "truthiness" of our conversation, other than my rather abstract sense of the trustworthiness of your brand, his quick impression of who I am and what I want, and our poker faces, which conceal our real intentions.

We aren't building a relationship, only completing a transaction. I guess that's why I don't take your service recommendation personally. And that, I guess, is my point.

-joanie