The Wrath of the Valet

Boy. I had some bad kharma shine down on me with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns this past week. Hate valet parking and the bars on Washington for no valid reason, missy? Oh we’ll give you a reason to complain, don’t you worry your little head.

So last Thursday I went to a work happy hour downtown. The HSH met me there, and then we headed over to Kobain’s to meet other assorted people. I looked in vain for parking on the street, but after calling the HSH (we were in separate cars) and confirming he had valeted, I figured what the hay, I’ll do it too. Bad idea. I was already annoyed when exiting the bar because the valet was taking his sweet time in crossing the parking lot to get my ticket, then his sweet time to get back to the key stand. Then I got super annoyed when he started heading back toward me on foot, as opposed to in my car. “What kind of car was it?” Uhhhhhh, do I get to pick? I mean, if I’m getting a free pass here, I’m sure I can find something in the lot I like. But honest as I am (plus I’m not trying to go to jail for grand theft auto or anything), I told him my car, and off he went again. Still at the pace of a sponge. Good thing this guy is not working for tips. Oh wait.

Anyway, he came back about 5 minutes later, this time with a cohort. Turns out, they had my car, but they didn’t have my keys. Small problem. I described my keys, even went over to look for them myself in the key box, and nothing. No keys. No where. Seriously. I can’t make this stuff up. The absolute worst part about it was that these guys seemed to care less. I mean you’re a VALET! Keys are your bread and butter! HOW DO YOU LOSE KEYS!?! Even worse (it gets worse) I walked over to my car to see if they had locked them inside somehow. Hard to lock keys in an UNLOCKED CAR! I don’t know what pissed me off more: the fact that my car was left unlocked all night, or that my keys weren’t just in there so I could go home and put this all behind me. The valet offered to pay for me to find a cab home. This was their version of making the situation right. Are you kidding me? Thankfully for me, the HSH had gone home before me. Not so thankfully for him, he had to get out of bed to bring me my spare key and a house key. That pissed me off as well. What if I had been a single gal? A cab ride home would have been about as useful as hind legs on a whale since my house key was on my key ring that the valet had just lost. (The first person to lecture me on separating my keys when valeting might lose an eye). Anyway, the owner of the company swore up and down that he would pay to have my car & house re-keyed as I left the premises. Of course he promptly forgot that he promised that, when I contacted him in the morning to tell him how much it was going to cost him. He didn’t see why he should have to have my house rekeyed. Despite me explaining that my car had been unlocked all night long, and anyone with a brain could look inside my glove compartment and get an address off of my insurance cards. He assured me his guys had kept an eye on the car and no one had broken into it. SERIOUSLY? Your guys couldn’t even be trusted to keep an eye on my KEYS and you want me to believe they kept an eye on my car? Please. Sell crazy to someone else because we’re all stocked up here.

After a threatening letter was sent over documenting my expenses to have everything re-keyed, I was pretty sure they were going to pay. And then you know what happened? Those of you in the audience guessing that my keys turned up would win a gold star for the day. Turns out the valet left my keys in another customer’s car and they returned them that night. Or so they say. All I know is that now, more than ever, I hate valets—despite what kharma that brings down on me.

Special shout out to NJ & Bossman who hung with me during the ordeal, and NJ for her letter writing skillz.